GETHIN'S STORY
True to his promise, Gethin was early at the docks, and as he sat
dangling his legs over a coil of rope, he laughed and slapped his knee,
when amongst the crowd of loiterers on the wharf-side he saw Sara's red
mantle appear.
"Didn't I say so?" he exclaimed, crossing to meet her, "didn't I say
you'd be here an hour and a half too soon? Just like a country woman!
why, the ship must wait for the tide, Sara fâch. But I'm glad you're
come, we shall have time for a chat; there's some things I want you to
know before I see you again."
"Afraid I was, 'machgen i," said Sara, "that the steamer would start
without me, and I will be quite happy to sit here and wait. Dear,
dear! how full the world is of wonders that we never know of down there
in the gorse and heather! all these strange people, different faces,
different languages. Gethin bâch, those who roam away from home see
much to open their minds."
"Yes," said Gethin, "and much to make them sick of it all; 'tis glad
I'll be to say good-bye to it, and to settle down in the old home
again. But the time is passing, Sara fâch, and I wanted to tell thee
what I have never told any one else, why I left Garthowen so suddenly.
I can tell you now, since my father has let every one know of it; but I
couldn't talk about it before Kitty Jones last night, for 'tis a bitter
thing to know your father has been dishonourable, and has lost the
respect of his neighbours. Well--'twas a night I never will
forget--that night when Gwilym Morris lost his bag of gold; 'twas a
night, Sara, that made a deep mark on me, a blow it was that nearly
drove me to destruction and ruin. I may as well tell thee everything,
Sara, and make a clean breast of it all. I had grown so fond of Morva,
Diwss anwl! she was in my thoughts morning, noon, and night, and I
thought she cared for me a little; but there I was mistaken, I suppose,
for when I asked her, she told me she was promised to Will. 'Here
behind this very bush,' she said, 'only two nights ago, I met him, and
I promised him again that I would be true to him.' I have been in
foreign lands when an earthquake shook the world under my feet, and at
those words of Morva's I felt the same, as if the world was going to
pieces; but I had to bear it; 'tis wonderful how much a man can bear!"
"And a woman too, 'machgen i," said Sara, laying her soft hand upon
his, "'twas a bitter time for Morva too."
"I didn't know that," said Gethin, "or 'twould have been worse to bear.
Well, when I went to bed that night, there was no sleep for me, no more
sleep than if I was steering a ship through a stormy sea. Well, that
dreadful night, the old house was very quiet, no sound but the clock
ticking very loud, and the owls crying to the moon; there was something
wrong with Tudor too, he was howling shocking all night, and 'twas a
thing I never heard him do before, perhaps because I slept too sound.
I tossed and turned till the clock struck twelve, and then I began to
feel drowsy; but all of a sudden I was as wide awake as I am now. I
thought I could hear a soft footstep in the passage, as if someone was
walking without shoes; I listened so hard I could hear my heart
beating. I thought 'twas a thief, or perhaps a murderer, and I
determined to rush upon him, but somehow I could not move, for I heard
a hand rubbing over the wall; 'tis whitewashed and rough you know,
Sara, and the hand was a rough hand--I could hear that; then somebody
passed my door, and in to Gwilym Morris's room. I was out of bed in a
minute, and across the passage in the dark, for there were black clouds
that night, and the moon was hidden sometimes. Just as I reached the
door of Gwilym's room, whatever, she came out and lighted up the whole
place, and there, Sara, I saw a sight that made my heart leap up in my
throat. Indeed, indeed, 'twas a sight that I would give my life never
to have seen, but I did see it, Sara, plain enough, and now you know
what it was, and I can't bring my lips to put it into words. I turned
back to my bed with my hands over my eyes, as if I could tear away the
horrid sight. And if 'twas like an earthquake when Morva refused me,
'twas worse--oh, much worse--when I saw what I did. My old father had
always been so dear to me--so much I loved him, so highly I thought of
him, although, I knew he was over fond of a drop sometimes; but caton
pawb! I would have staked my life on his honour, and more upon his
honesty. I lay awake of course that night--yes, and many a night
after, going over my troubles--worse than that, my shame; and through
all my tossing and turning, one thought was clear before me, 'twould be
better for me to bear the blame than for old Ebben Owens Garthowen to
be known as a thief. I thought I would be far away in foreign lands or
on distant seas, and so I would not hear the whispering, nor see the
pointing of the fingers. What did it matter what people said about me?
Morva would not have me, so what was the use of a good name to me?"
"I got up before the sun rose, and I pushed a few things into my canvas
bag, and went quiet down the stairs. I stopped a minute outside Ann
and Morva's room. I could hear them breathing soft and regular, and so
I hoped they had slept all night. Then I went into the dairy and cut
enough bread and cheese to last for the day, and before anyone was up
at Garthowen, I was far on my way towards Caer-Madoc.
"I sailed from there to Cardiff, and there on the docks I saw many of
my old friends--Tom Powell and Jim Bowen, and many others; but diwss
anwl! I was ashamed to look them in the face, so I avoided them all,
and went amongst the English and the foreign sailors; and in every port
I was avoiding the Welsh sailors, and when I came to Cardiff I never
went to Kitty Jones's any more.
"Well, then, I took ship for South America, and I didn't come home for
two years. All that time I led a wild and reckless life, Sara fâch.
Wasn't a fight but I was in it--wasn't a row but Gethin Owens was
there, drinking and swearing and rioting. I didn't care a cockle-shell
what became of me; and if ever a man was on the brink of destruction,
it was Gethin Owens of Garthowen during those two years. I tried
everything to drown my sorrows.
"'Twas just then in Monte Video I caught a fever--the yellow fever they
call it--and I was in the hospital there for many weeks. They told me
afterwards that I had a very bad turn of it. The doctors said they'd
never seen a man so ill and yet recover. I took their word for it.
But I knew nothing about it myself, for I was as happy as a king those
weeks, roaming about Garthowen slopes, dancing in the mill, and
whistling at the plough, and Morva at my side always. Dei anwl! When
I came to myself, and saw the bare, whitewashed walls of the hospital,
the foreign nurses moving about--very kind and tender they were, too,
but 'twasn't Morva--Garthowen slopes, Morva, the mill and the moor had
all gone, and when I saw where I was, what will you think of me, Sara,
when I tell you I cried like a little child, like I did the day when I
tore myself away from little Morva long ago, when I ran away from home,
and heard her calling after me, 'Gethin! Gethin!'
"The nurse was very kind to me. She saw my tears were falling like the
rain. ''Tis weak you are, poor fellow,' says she, for she could speak
English. God bless her! I will never forget her. And she did her
best to strengthen me with good food and cheering words; and in time I
got well, but 'twas many months before I felt like myself again.
"Well, in the next bed to mine was a man, brought in when I was at my
worst, or my best, having that jolly time on Garthowen slopes with
Morva. When I came to myself, he was there, poor fellow, as yellow as
a guinea, with black shadows under his eyes, and the parched lips that
showed he was having a hard fight for his life. But singing he was all
through the long nights in that strange place, though his voice was so
weak and husky you could scarcely hear him; but the words, Sara fâch!
I almost rose up in my bed when I heard them. What d'ye think they
were but, 'Yn y dyfroedd mawr a'r tònau'?[1] My heart leapt out to him
at once, and I tried hard to speak to him, but he couldn't hear me; and
when I was getting better he was getting worse, till one day the black
vomit came on, and then I thought 'twas all over with him. But instead
of that, it seemed to do him good, for he got better after that, and
very soon I was able to sit a bit by his bedside, and to talk to him
about the old country. His name was Jacob Ellis, and he had been
captain of the _Albatross_ trading between Swansea and Cardiff and
Monte Video. He hadn't a relation in the world that he knew of. He
had got on well, and had saved five hundred pounds. They were safe in
the bank at Cardiff, and when he found he was not going to get better
after all--for he hadn't the same healthy constitution that I
had--well, nothing would do for him but he must make his will and leave
all he had to me. 'Twas all right and proper, Sara, and the nurse and
the doctor witnessed it.
"Caton pawb! he thought I had done a lot for him, poor fellow; when, if
he only knew, the Welsh hymns and the talks about Wales had helped me
to get well. I had my hand on his, just like you have yours on mine
now, when he died. He said a few serious words to me before he went,
Sara. I will keep them to myself, but I can tell you they often come
back to my memory. Well, he died and I got well, and as soon as I was
strong enough I hired on board a ship bound for Cardiff. I went at
once to a lawyer to see about my 500 pounds, and I felt a rich man, I
can tell you, but there was no pleasure in it, Sara.
"I would willingly have thrown it over the docks, if that would blot
out one evening behind the broom bushes at Garthowen, and one night
when I saw a sight which spoilt my life. It's twenty minutes to the
starting time yet, Sara. Art tired, or will I tell the rest of my
story?"
"Go on, 'machgen i," said Sara, "tell it me all today, and there will
be no need for us ever to have any more talk about it."
"No; that is what I wish," said Gethin. "Well, with my pay in my
pocket, and 500 pounds at my back, I thought I would enjoy myself as
much as I could, and smother the hiraeth[2] that was so strong upon me,
the longing to go home to see Morva, and you, and the moor, Sara; my
father, Ann, and Will, and all of them were dragging sore at my heart,
so I threw myself in with a lot of roystering fellows, who were bent
upon having as many sprees as they could while their money lasted. I
was keeping away from the Welsh sailors entirely, and my friend, Ben
Barlow, and I were having what they call in English a jolly time. We
went together to a low place near the docks, where there was singing
and dancing every night for sailors. I saw many of my old companions
there and amongst them was a girl called Bella Lewis, who used to come
often to see Kitty Jones in Bryn Street. She wasn't a bad sort
altogether, very kind-hearted and merry. She was altered a good deal
since I saw her last, she looked older and thinner, but she was
laughing and dancing as lively as ever. As soon as she caught sight of
me, she came to me, and I think she was real glad to see me, because
she thought I had been kind to her once when she was ill and very poor.
"'Gethin Owens, I do believe,' she says, 'where have you been all this
long time? Kitty Jones will be glad to see you, whatever.'
"I saw the foreign sailor she had been dancing with looking very black
at me, and I began to laugh, and talk, and joke with Bella, just to
plague him, and we danced and drank together, and I soon saw that the
two years I had been away had not improved her. She was more noisy,
and her talk was more coarse, and many an oath was on her lips. I saw
it, but I didn't care, because I had become quite reckless, and my
laugh and my jokes were louder than anyone's in the room.
"'Well, wherever you have been,' says Bella, 'you're very much
improved, Gethin.'
"'Am I that?' says I. 'And how, then?'
"'Oh, well, you are not afraid of a joke, and you've not got that hard
look on your mouth when you hear a light word. Oh, anwl! I was afraid
of you those days; but I will say you had a kind heart, Gethin Owens.'
"'Well,' I says, 'that's alright still, whatever.'"
"'Well then,' she says, 'if it is, you'll take me to the Vampire
Theatre to-night. Come on, Gethin Owens, for the sake of old times,'
she says; and I was glad to see her, certainly, 'twas so long since I
had met an old friend, and the brandy had got in my head a little,
though I hadn't had so much as Bella.
"'Come on, then,' sez I, for I couldn't refuse her when she said 'for
the sake of old times'; and I looked round for Ben Barlow to tell him I
was going, but I couldn't see him anywhere. Well, off we went
together, and when we got out in the street, in spite of the flaring
gas-lamps, you could see 'twas a beautiful night. The moon was shining
round and clear above us, and I never could see the full moon, Sara,
even far away in foreign countries, without thinking of Garthowen
slopes and the moor. Well, this night they came before me very plain,
but I shut them out from my thoughts, with the music from The Vampire
sounding loud in nay ears, and Bella Lewis hanging on my arm.
"All of a sudden, when we reached the door of the theatre, Bella turned
round, and something glittered on her neck in the moonlight.
"'What is that?' I said, pointing to it.
"''Tis my necklace that you gave me,' she said; 'twas in my pocket at
the dancing. I was so afraid it would drop off.'
"And there it was hanging row under row, and the shells showing all
their colours in the bright moonlight. I don't know how can such
things be, Sara, but as sure as I'm here I saw Morva standing there,
just as I saw her that night when I gave her her necklace, standing
under the elder-tree, with the round moon shining full on her face.
Sara, woman, I nearly lost my breath, and had to lay my hand on the
doorpost to steady myself. Bella had hold of my arm, and I felt as if
a snake was hanging there that I wanted to throw off. The music came
full and loud into the street, and I hated it all. I cannot tell what
came over me, but my knees trembled and my hands--mine, remember,
Gethin Owens, the big, strong sailor!--my hands were shaking like a
leaf when I took the tickets. I tried to throw it off, and to laugh
and talk again with Bella.
"'What's the matter?' she said; but I couldn't answer, for whenever I
looked at her that glittering necklace brought Morva's face before me
so plain as if she had been there herself; and when we sat down in the
theatre I couldn't hear the music and I couldn't see the stage, because
soft in my ears was Morva's voice calling me, like she called me that
day on the slopes when I tore myself from her little clinging arms:
'Gethin! Gethin! come back!' was plain in my ears.
"I looked round me quite moidered. Lots of Bella's friends were there,
and lots of mine; but I could not stop. I stood up, determined to go
out, whatever the others might think of me, for all the time Morva's
voice was in my ears calling 'Gethin! Gethin!'
"'I am going,' said I to Bella; 'somebody is calling me.' And there,
close to me, who should I see but Ben Barlow sitting alone. I pushed
the play bill in his hand. 'Look after Bella,' I said; 'I am going,'
and I went towards the door. I could hear Bella's friends laughing and
shouting, and the last thing I heard as I went out was a shower of bad
names and foul words that Bella was flinging after me.
"The tide is nearly full, I see; she'll be starting directly, but I
have almost told you everything now.
"I shipped for another long voyage after that, and only now I have come
back; but indeed, Sara fâch, whether 'twas a dream or vision, or what,
I don't know, but never, in storms or wrecks or fine weather, on land
or sea, will I forget the strong hand that laid hold of me that night,
and turned my face away from the music, the lights, the sin and the
folly of the town. I have told thee all, Sarah fâch. Wilt still be my
friend?"
"For ever, 'machgen i!"
"Then it is to the old country I'm going, Sara, back to the sea wind,
the song of the lark, and the call of the seagulls on the bay. I'll be
home one of these days; as soon as I can get things settled here.
Diwss anwl! I must make haste or the steamer will start with me
aboard. All right, captain, take care of her. She's a good friend to
me."
"Don't I know it?" said the old captain, shaking hands warmly with
both. "Didn't she come up with me about a month ago, and didn't I
direct her to safe lodgings? 'Fraid I was, man, that with her innocent
face and her wide tick pocket, she would be robbed or murdered or
something. But here you are safe again, little woman. Going home to
the old countryside?"
"Yes," said Sara, laughing. "I am quite safe, and I have spent a
pleasant time with Kitty Jones, but I am not sorry to leave your big
smoky town. Ach y fi! 'tis pity to think so many people live and die
there without sight of the sea and the cliffs and the moor. Poor
things! poor things!"
"Well! 'tis well to be contented with one's lot," said the old man,
"but I don't know how I would be now without a sight of the docks and
the shipping, and a yarn with my old comrades on the waterside
sometimes, but I am going to try it, whatever. Marged is grumbling
shockin' because I don't stop at home in our little cottage. It's a
purty place, too, just a mile outside Carmarthen, but quiet it is,
shockin' quiet! And you, Gethin Owens, little did I think these two
years I bin meeting you about the docks and the shipping, that you wass
the son of my old friend, Ebben Owens of Garthowen! Why din you tell
me, man?"
Gethin coloured with embarrassment, while he pretended to arrange a
sheltered seat for Sara, who came bravely to his assistance.
"And how could he know, captain, that you were the friend of his
father?" she said in Welsh, for she had gathered the sense of the
English talk between the two sailors.
"Well! that's true indeed," said the captain, scratching his head; "we
were both in the dark. But there's the bell! You must go, my lad, if
you won't come with us."
"Not to-day," replied Gethin, "but one of these next days I'll be
following that good little woman."
And when, from the edge of the wharf, he watched the little steamer
making her way between the river craft, Sara's red mantle making a
bright spot in the grey of the fog and smoke, his heart went with her
to the old homestead, his old haunts, and his old friends.
[1] "In the deep waters and the waves," a well-known and favourite hymn.
[2] Home sickness.