"The Emperor assumed the title of _Divus_ or Divine, not of his own
desire, but because it was forced upon him by a credulous
people."--SUETONIUS, _Lives of the Cæsars_.
This story, which you may believe or not as you like, was told me by my
friend Mr Peter Thomson of "Jessieville," Maxwell Avenue, Strathbungo,
whom I believe to be a man incapable of mendacity, or, indeed, of
imagination. He is a prosperous and retired ship's captain, dwelling in
the suburbs of Glasgow, who plays two rounds of golf every day of the
week, and goes twice every Sunday to a pink, new U. F. Church. You may
often see his ample figure, splendidly habited in broadcloth and
finished off with one of those square felt hats which are the Scottish
emblem of respectability, moving sedately by Mrs Thomson's side down the
avenue of "Balmorals" and "Bellevues" where dwell the aristocracy of
Strathbungo. It was not there that I met him, however, but in a Clyde
steamboat going round the Mull, where I spent a comfortless night on my
way to a Highland fishing. It was blowing what he called "a wee bit o'
wind," and I could not face the odorous bunks which opened on the
dining-room. Seated abaft the funnel, in an atmosphere of ham-and-eggs,
bilge, and fresh western breezes, he revealed his heart to me, and this
I found in it.
"About the age of forty"--said Mr Thomson--"I was captain of the steamer
_Archibald McKelvie_, 1,700 tons burthen, belonging to Brock, Rattray,
and Linklater, of Greenock. We were principally engaged in the China
trade, but made odd trips into the Malay Archipelago and once or twice
to Australia. She was a handy bit boat, and I'll not deny that I had
many mercies vouchsafed to me when I was her skipper. I raked in a bit
of salvage now and then, and my trading commission, paid regularly into
the British Linen Bank at Maryhill, was mounting up to a fairish sum. I
had no objection to Eastern parts, for I had a good constitution and had
outgrown the daftnesses of youth. The berth suited me well, I had a
decent lot for ship's company, and I would gladly have looked forward
to spending the rest of my days by the _Archibald McKelvie_.
"Providence, however, thought otherwise, for He was preparing a judgment
against that ship like the kind you read about in books. We were five
days out from Singapore shaping our course for the Philippines, where
the Americans were then fighting, when we ran into a queer lown sea. Not
a breath of air came out of the sky; if you kindled a match the flame
wouldna leap, but smouldered like touchwood; and every man's body ran
with sweat like a mill-lade. I kenned fine we were in for the terrors of
hell, but I hadna any kind of notion how terrible hell could be. First
came a wind that whipped away my funnel, like a potato peeling. We ran
before it, and it was like the sweegee we used to play at when we were
laddies. One moment the muckle sea would get up on its hinder end and
look at you, and the next you were looking at it as if you were on the
top of Ben Lomond looking down on Luss. Presently I saw land in a gap of
the water, a land with great blood-red mountains, and, thinks I to
myself, if we keep up the pace this boat of mine will not be hindered
from ending two or three miles inland in somebody's kail-yard. I was
just wondering how we would get the _Archibald McKelvie_ back to her
native element when she saved me the trouble; for she ran dunt on some
kind of a rock, and went straight to the bottom.
"I was the only man saved alive, and if you ask me how it happened I
don't know. I felt myself choking in a whirlpool; then I was flung
through the air and brought down with a smack into deep waters; then I
was in the air again, and this time I landed amongst sand and
tree-trunks and got a bash on the head which dozened my senses.
"When I came to it was morning, and the storm had abated. I was lying
about half-way up a beach of fine white sand, for the wave that had
carried me landwards in its flow had brought me some of the road back in
its ebb. All round me was a sort of free-coup--trees knocked to
matchwood, dead fish, and birds and beasts, and some boards which I
jaloused came from the _Archibald McKelvie_. I had a big bump on my
head, but otherwise I was well and clear in my wits, though empty in the
stomach and very dowie in the heart. For I knew something about the
islands, of which I supposed this to be one. They were either barren
wastes, with neither food nor water, or else they were inhabited by the
bloodiest cannibals of the archipelago. It looked as if my choice lay
between having nothing to eat and being eaten myself.
"I got up, and, after returning thanks to my Maker, went for a walk in
the woods. They were full of queer painted birds, and it was an awful
job climbing in and out of the fallen trees. By and by I came into an
open bit with a burn where I slockened my thirst. It cheered me up, and
I was just beginning to think that this was not such a bad island, and
looking to see if I could find anything in the nature of cocoanuts, when
I heard a whistle like a steam-syren. It was some sort of signal, for
the next I knew I was in the grip of a dozen savages, my arms and feet
were lashed together, and I was being carried swiftly through the
forest.
"It was a rough journey, and the discomfort of that heathen handling
kept me from reflecting upon my desperate position. After nearly three
hours we stopped, and I saw that we had come to a city. The streets were
not much to look at, and the houses were mud and thatch, but on a
hillock in the middle stood a muckle temple not unlike a Chinese pagoda.
There was a man blowing a horn, and a lot of folk shouting, but I paid
no attention, for I was sore troubled with the cramp in my left leg.
They took me into one of the huts and made signs that I was to have it
for my habitation. They brought me water to wash, and a very respectable
dinner, which included a hen and a vegetable not unlike greens. Then
they left me to myself, and I lay down and slept for a round of the
clock.
"I was three days in that hut. I had plenty to eat and the folk were
very civil, but they wouldna let me outbye and there was no window to
look out of. I couldna make up my mind what they wanted with me. I was a
prisoner, but they did not behave as if they bore any malice, and I
might have thought I was an honoured guest, but for the guards at the
door. Time hung heavy on my hands, for I had nothing to read and no
light to read by. I said over all the chapters of the Bible and all the
Scots songs I could remember, and I tried to make a poem about my
adventures, but I stuck at the fifth line, for I couldna find a rhyme to
_McKelvie_.
"On the fourth morning I was awakened by the most deafening din. I saw
through the door that the streets were full of folk in holiday clothes,
most of them with flowers in their hair and carrying palm branches in
their hands. It was like something out of a Bible picture book. After I
had my breakfast four lads in long white gowns arrived, and in spite of
all my protests they made a bonny spectacle of me. They took off my
clothes, me blushing with shame, and rubbed me with a kind of oil that
smelt of cinnamon. Then they shaved my chin, and painted on my forehead
a mark like a freemason's. Then they put on me a kind of white nightgown
with a red sash round the middle, and they wouldna be hindered from
clapping on my head a great wreath of hot-house flowers, as if I was a
funeral.
"And then like a thunder-clap I realised my horrible position. _I was_ a
funeral. I was to be offered up as a sacrifice to some heathen god--an
awful fate for a Free-kirk elder in the prime of life.
"I was so paralytic with terror that I never tried to resist. Indeed, it
would have done me little good, for outside there were, maybe, two
hundred savages, armed and drilled like soldiers. I was put into a sort
of palanquin, and my bearers started on a trot with me up the hill to
the temple, the whole population of the city running alongside, and
singing songs about their god. I was sick with fear, and I durstna look
up, for I did not know what awesome sight awaited me.
"At last I got my courage back. 'Peter,' I says to myself, 'be a man.
Remember your sainted covenanting forefathers. You have been chosen to
testify for your religion, though it's no likely that yon savages will
understand what you say.' So I shut my jaw and resolved before I died to
make a declaration of my religious principles, and to loosen some of the
heathen's teeth with my fists.
"We stopped at the temple door and I was led through a court and into a
muckle great place like a barn, with bats flying about the ceiling. Here
there were nearly three thousand heathens sitting on their hunkers. They
sang a hymn when they saw me, and I was just getting ready for action
when my bearers carried me into another place, which I took to be the
Holy of Holies. It was about half the size of the first, and at the end
of it was a great curtain of leopards' skins hanging from roof to floor.
My bearers set me in the middle of the room, and then rolled about on
their stomachs in adoration before the curtain. After a bit they
finished their prayers and crawled out backwards, and I was left alone
in that fearsome place.
"It was the worst experience of my life. I believed that behind the
skins there was a horrible idol, and that at any moment a priest with a
knife would slip in to cut my throat. You may crack about courage, but I
tell you that a man who can wait without a quiver on his murderers in
the middle of a gloomy kirk is more than human. I am not ashamed to
confess that the sweat ran over my brow, and my teeth were knocking in
my head.
"But nothing happened. Nothing, except that as I sat there I began to
feel a most remarkable smell. At first I thought the place was on fire.
Then I thought it was the kind of stink called incense that they make in
Popish kirks, for I once wandered into a cathedral in Santiago. But
neither guess was right, and then I put my thumb on the proper
description. It was nothing but the smell of the third-class carriages
on the Coatbridge train on a Saturday night after a football match--the
smell of plug tobacco smoked in clay pipes that were no just very clean.
My eyes were getting accustomed to the light, and I found the place no
that dark; and as I looked round to see what caused the smell, I spied
something like smoke coming from beyond the top of the curtain.
"I noticed another thing. There was a hole in the curtain, about six
feet from the floor, and at that hole as I watched I saw an eye. My
heart stood still, for, thinks I, that'll be the priest of Baal who
presently will stick a knife into me. It was long ere I could screw up
courage to look again, but I did it. And then I saw that the eye was not
that of a savage, which would be black and blood-shot. It was a blue
eye, and, as I looked, it winked at me.
"And then a voice spoke out from behind the curtain, and this was what
it said. It said, 'God sake, Peter, is it you? And how did ye leave them
a' at Maryhill?'
"And from behind the curtain walked a muckle man, dressed in a pink
blanket, a great red-headed man, with a clay pipe in his mouth. It was
the god of the savages, and who do ye think it was? A man Johnston, who
used to bide in the same close as me in Glasgow...."
Mr Thomson's emotion overcame him, and he accepted a stiff drink from my
flask. Wiping away a tear, which may have been of sentiment or of mirth,
he continued,--
"You may imagine that I was joyful and surprised to see him, and he, so
to speak, fell on my neck like the father of the Prodigal Son. He hadna
seen a Scotch face for four years. He raked up one or two high priests
and gave instructions, and soon I was comfortably lodged in a part of
the temple close to his own rooms. Eh, man, it was a noble sight to see
Johnston and the priests. He was a big, red-haired fellow, six feet
four, and as strong as a stot, with a voice like a north-easter, and yon
natives fair crawled like caterpillars in his presence. I never saw a
man with such a natural talent for being a god. You would have thought
he had been bred to the job all his days, and yet I minded him keeping a
grocer's shop in the Dalmarnock Road.
"That night he told me his story. It seemed that he had got a post at
Shanghai in a trading house, and was coming out to it in one of those
God-forgotten German tramps that defile the China seas. Like me, he fell
in with a hurricane, and, like me, his ship was doomed. He was a
powerful swimmer, and managed to keep afloat until he found some
drifting wreckage, and after the wind had gone down he paddled ashore.
There he was captured by the savages, and taken, like me, to their city.
They were going to sacrifice him, but one chief, wiser than the rest,
called attention to his size and strength, and pointed out that they
were at war with their neighbours, and that a big man would be of more
use in the fighting line than on an altar in the temple.
"So off went Johnston to the wars. He was a bonny fighter, and very soon
they made him captain of the royal bodyguard, and a fortnight later the
general commanding-in-chief over the whole army. He said he had never
enjoyed himself so much in his life, and when he got back from his
battles the whole population of the city used to meet him with songs and
flowers. Then an old priest found an ancient prophecy about a Red God
who would come out of the sea and lead the people to victory. Very soon
there was a strong party for making Johnston a god; and when, with the
help of a few sticks of trade dynamite, he had blown up the capital of
the other side and brought back his army in triumph with a prisoner
apiece, popular feeling could not be restrained. Johnston was hailed as
divine. He hadna much grip of the language, and couldna explain the
situation, so he thought it best to submit.
"'Mind you,' he said to me, 'I've been a good god to these poor blind
ignorant folk.' He had stopped the worst of their habits and put down
human sacrifices, and got a sort of town council appointed to keep the
city clean, and he had made the army the most efficient thing ever heard
of in the islands. And now he was preparing to leave. This was what they
expected, for the prophecy had said that the Red God, after being the
saviour of his people, would depart as he had come across the sea. So,
under his directions, they had built him a kind of boat with which he
hoped to reach Singapore. He had got together a considerable fortune,
too, chiefly in rubies, for as a god he had plenty of opportunities of
acquiring wealth honestly. He said there was a sort of greengrocer's and
butcher's shop before his altar every morning, and he got one of the
priests, who had some business notions, to sell off the goods for him.
"There was just one thing that bothered Mr Johnston. He was a good
Christian man and had been an elder in a kirk in the Cowcaddens, and he
was much in doubt whether he had not committed a mortal sin in accepting
the worship of these heathen islanders. Often I argued it out with him,
but I did not seem able to comfort him rightly. 'Ye see,' he used to say
to me, 'if I have broken anything, it's the spirit and no the letter of
the Commandment. I havena set up a graven image, for ye canna call me a
graven image.'
"I mind that I quoted to him the conduct of Naaman, who was allowed to
bow in the house of Rimmon, but he would not have it. 'No, no,' he
cried, 'that has nothing to do with the point. It's no a question of my
bowing in the house of Rimmon. I'm auld Rimmon himself.'"
"That's a strange story, Mr Thomson," I said. "Is it true?"
"True as death. But you havena heard the end of it. We got away, and
by-and-by we reached Singapore, and in course of time our native land.
Johnston, he was a very rich man now, and I didna go without my portion;
so the loss of the _Archibald McKelvie_ turned out the best piece of
luck in my life. I bought a share in Brock's Line, but nothing would
content Johnston but that he must be a gentleman. He got a big estate in
Annandale, where all the Johnstons came from long ago, and one way and
another he has spent an awful siller on it. Land will swallow up money
quicker than the sea."
"And what about his conscience?" I asked.
"It's keeping quieter," said Mr Thomson. "He takes a great interest in
Foreign Missions, to which he subscribes largely, and they tell me that
he has given the funds to build several new kirks. Oh yes, and he's just
been adopted as a prospective Liberal candidate. I had a letter from him
no further back than yesterday. It's about his political career, as he
calls it. He told me, what didna need telling, that I must never mention
a word about his past. 'If discretion was necessary before,' he says,
'it's far more necessary now, for how could the Party of Progress have
any confidence in a man if they heard he had once been a god?'"