GOING HOME.
It is more than hour since we left Morley Scott hailing the _Refuge_.
How is it that the ship has not been moved yet? And here is the little
boat turned homeward, and strangers have the charge of it.
Is Charlie asleep, that he lies there so pale and still? he has not
moved once since we looked. And that something lying in the boat,
covered by a ship's colour, what can it be? The night air is damp and
chill, and the sea looks grey and deadly in the twilight.
One of the sailors leans forward to look at Charlie. "Poor little one,"
he murmurs, in a kind but sad tone.
"I wish we were yonder," said the other sailor, moving his head in the
direction of the town. "I don't like the look of that boy at all; it may
only be fainting, but it looks to me more like death than anything
else."
It was almost dark when they reached the harbour.
"You stay with the boat," said the sailor who spoke just before, "and
I'll go up into the town and see about help."
A man who had noticed their arrival sauntered up, curious to know if
anything was the matter.
"Morley Scott and his brother are drowned."
In answer to the man's anxious questions, the sailor told him that when
Scott's boat came along-side the ship a rope was thrown to them as usual
to be made fast, and, unfortunately, both Scott and his brother sprang
forward to catch it; the boat gave a violent lurch, and in a moment they
were plunged into the sea, Morley Scott's head striking the ship's side
as he fell. His brother was never seen again; they supposed he must have
come up underneath the ship, and so met certain death.
Morley Scott's body they recovered, and had brought with them in the
boat.
The sad news that two men had been drowned soon spread, and before long
many anxious, awe-stricken faces were gazing down into the boat at the
object which lay terribly still, covered by the ship's colour.
When poor little Charlie was lifted up, many a mother, with tears in her
eyes, love in her heart, and thoughts of the little ones at home,
pressed forward with offers to take the boy. One woman was even more
eager than the rest: "Let me have him," she said; "he is like my own
child that I lost last year come back again," and trembling with,
emotion, she took poor Charlie, who was still unconscious, in her arms.
"I'll carry him home for you, Mrs. Heedman," said one of the men,
kindly; "it's a good way to your house, and you'd find him heavy before
you got there."
When Charlie awoke, as he thought, from sleep, he found himself, to his
great astonishment, in a neat little bed with white curtains and
counterpane. A small table stood near, with a glass, and bottles of
medicine, such as he remembered to have seen when his mother was ill;
and opposite his bed hung a picture of the finding of Moses.
It was very strange: Charlie rubbed his eyes, thinking he could not be
quite awake, surely, and looked again; but the things were still there.
Then he tried to remember what happened before he went to sleep, but his
head felt so weak and light that he could not think. He put his hand out
and felt the curtains; they were real enough. Just as he was making up
his mind that he would try to sit up and look about the room, the door
was gently opened, and a pleasant face peeped in. Charlie remembered at
once that it was good, kind Mrs. Heedman, who used to come and see his
mother when she was ill.
She seemed surprised and glad to see that he knew her, and coming
quickly up to him, gave him a kiss, put his pillow to rights, and told
him he must not get up yet.
"I feel very tired, Mrs. Heedman," said Charlie languidly; "have I been
asleep long?"
"You have been very ill, dear," she answered, gently, "so ill that you
did not know any one for a few days. Are you glad I brought you here to
this nice little bed, to take care of you?"
"Oh yes, thank you," said Charlie, earnestly. Mrs. Heedman saw that he
was thinking and trying to remember something, so to change the current
of his thoughts she poured out his medicine, and handed it to him. "Now
drink this up, like a good boy," she said, "then I will bring you some
beef tea soon."
Charlie rather unwillingly, and with a wry face, drank the mixture. As
he gave her back the glass, his eye rested on a picture that had been
hidden before by the curtain; it was a ship and some small boats at sea.
In a moment the something that he had been trying to remember flashed
upon him, and burying his face in the pillow to shut out the picture, he
sobbed out, "Oh, father, father!"
Mrs. Heedman stood quietly by, waiting until the first burst of grief
was over, and asking in her heart for the help of God's Holy Spirit to
teach her what she had best say to comfort him. Presently the heavy sobs
almost ceased; but Charlie did not move or speak. She took his hand in
hers smoothing and caressing it, as if to assure him of her sympathy.
"Charlie dear," she said gently, "it is very sad, and very hard to bear,
is it not?" Charlie did not speak. She sat down beside him, still
keeping his hand in hers, and went on speaking.
"Last year, when my own dear little boy died--you remember Tom, don't
you, Charlie? Well, when he was taken from me, I thought my heart would
have broken; it seemed as if I should never be happy again. I felt sad
and ill, and weary of everything, just as you feel now." Charlie turned
towards her, and looked interested. "For some weeks I was very unhappy,
and thought no one had such a trouble as mine; but afterwards I learned
how wrong it was of me to find fault with God's will; and when I began
to count up all the blessings I had received, and remembered all that my
dear Lord Jesus Christ had done and suffered for me, I felt sure that He
who loved me so much would not let me suffer any pain or sorrow that was
not necessary for my good."
Charlie was listening attentively; he quite understood all Mrs. Heedman
said. His mother had often read to him out of the Bible, and spoken to
him of the Saviour.
Mrs. Heedman went on: "You must remember, Charlie, that you are now one
of God's very dear children. We are all His children, but He has
especial love and care for those whom He has been obliged to leave
without any earthly parents. God promises in His own holy book, the
Bible, that He will be 'a Father to the fatherless;' that He will
relieve the fatherless; that He will help the fatherless; and that if
the fatherless cry unto Him, He will surely hear their cry. When you are
stronger, I will find the passages and read them to you, and many others
that are very comforting. Now it is quite time that you had your beef
tea; I will get it for you, and then we can talk again."
Charlie thought the beef tea was delicious; he was already beginning to
feel that relish for savoury food that most fever patients experience
when they are recovering.
"It's very nice," he kept repeating; and every now and then Mrs. Heedman
met his blue eyes gazing into hers with a thoughtful, inquiring sort of
look. At last he said, "Mrs. Heedman, do you think it was God who put it
into your heart to bring me here and be so kind to me?"
"Yes, Charlie, I am sure of it."
"Then I'm quite sure that God loves me," said Charlie, energetically. "I
can't help crying when I think about father," as he burst into another
flood of tears; "but," he added, "I will try not to think any more that
it was not kind of God to let him be drowned and leave me by myself. I
was thinking so a little while since;" and dropping his voice, he went
on, "I want you, please, to tell me all about it--where father is, and
uncle John. I saw them lift some one out of the water, dead, but I
forget what happened after."
Mrs. Heedman told him as gently and as kindly as she could about his
father's funeral; who arranged it, and where he was buried, and that his
uncle's body had not been found. "When you are better, Charlie, we will
go and see the grave, and you shall set some flowers on it."
"When I am a man," burst in Charlie, "I shall buy a beautiful tombstone
for it."
"Very well," said Mrs. Heedman, getting up. "Now you must try to sleep a
little. How very good and merciful God has been to you, Charlie, to
spare your life in this illness! If it is His will, I trust I shall be
able day by day to teach you how to devote the life He has given you to
His service."
"Am I going to be with you always, Mrs. Heedman?" cried Charlie, opening
his eyes very wide.
"Yes, I hope so," she answered. After a little more talking, principally
on Charlie's side, who confided to her his private opinion of the cross
Mrs. Wood, and his pleasure to think he was not going back to her any
more, Mrs. Heedman left the room, and Charlie went to sleep.