About midway between the two horns
of the bay, the Isles of Sunset pierced the sea.
There was deep blue water all around them, and the
sharp and fretted pinnacles of rock rose steeply up
to heaven. The top of the largest was blunt,
and covered with a little carpet of grass and sea-herbs.
The rest were nought but cruel spires, on which no
foot but that of sea-birds could go. At one place
there was a small creek, into which a boat might be
thrust, but only when the sea was calm; and near the
top of the rock, just over this, was the dark mouth
of a little cave.
The bay in which the Isles lay was
quite deserted; the moorland came to the edge of the
cliffs, and through a steep and rocky ravine, the
sides of which were overgrown with ferns and low trees,
all brushed landward by the fierce winds, a stream
fell hoarsely to the sea, through deep rock-pools.
The only living things there were the wild birds,
the moorfowl in the heather, hawks that built in the
rock face, and pigeons that made their nest in hollow
places. Sometimes a stag pacing slowly on the
cliff-top would look over, but that was seldom.
Yet on these desolate and fearful
rocks there dwelt a man, a hermit named David.
He had grown up as a fisher-boy in the neighbouring
village an awkward silent boy with large
eyes which looked as though they were full of inward
dreams. The people of the place were Christians
after a sort, though it was but seldom that a priest
came near them; and then only by sea, for there was
no road to the place. But David as a boy had
heard a little of the Lord Christ, and of the bitter
sacrifice He made for men; and there grew up in his
heart a great desire to serve Him, and he prayed much
in his heart to the Lord, that He would show him what
he might do. He had no parents living. His
mother was long dead, and his father had been drowned
at sea. He lived in the house of his uncle, a
poor fisherman with an angry temper, where he fared
very hardly; for there were many mouths to feed, and
the worst fell to the least akin. But he grew
up handy and active, with strong limbs and a sure
head; and he was well worth his victual, for he was
a good fisherman, patient of wind and rain; and he
could scale the cliff in places where none other dared
go, and bring down the eggs and feathers of the sea-birds.
So they had much use of him, and gave him but little
love in return. When he was free of work, the
boy loved to wander alone, and he would lie on the
heather in the warm sun, with his face to the ground,
drinking in the fragrant breath of the earth, and
praying earnestly in his heart to the Lord, who had
made the earth so fair and the sea so terrible.
When he came to man’s estate, he had thoughts
of making a home of his own, but his uncle seemed
to need him so he lingered on, doing as
he was bid, very silent, but full of his own thoughts,
and sure that the Lord would call him when He had
need of him; one by one the children of the family
grew up and went their ways; then his uncle’s
wife died, and then at last one day, when he was out
fishing with his uncle, there came a squall and they
beat for home. But the boat was overset and his
uncle was drowned; and David himself was cast ashore
in a wonderful manner, and found himself all alone.
Now while he doubted what he should
do, he dreamed a dream that wrought powerfully in
his mind. He thought that he was walking in the
dusk beside the sea, which was running very high, when
he saw a light drawing near to him over the waves.
It was not like the light of a lantern, but a diffused
and pale light, like the moon labouring in a cloud.
The sea began to abate its violence, and then David
saw a figure coming to him, walking, it seemed, upon
the water as upon dry land, sometimes lower, sometimes
higher, as the waves ran high or low. He stopped
in a great wonder to watch the approach of the figure,
and he saw that it was that of a young man, going
very slowly and tranquilly, and looking about him
with a gentle and smiling air of command. All
about him was a light, the source of which David could
not see, but he seemed like a man walking in the light
of an open window, when all around is dark. As
he came near, David saw that he was clad in a rough
tunic of some dark stuff, which was girt up with a
girdle at the waist. His head and his feet were
bare. Yet though he seemed but poorly clad, he
had the carriage of a great prince, whose power none
would willingly question. But the strangest thing
was that the sea grew calm before his feet, and though
the wind was blowing fiercely, yet it did not stir
the hair, which fell somewhat long on his shoulders,
or so much as ruffle his robe. And then there
came into David’s head a verse of Scripture
where it says, “What manner of man is this,
that even the winds and the sea obey him?”
And then the answer came suddenly into David’s
mind, and he knelt down where he was upon the beach,
and waited in a great and silent awe; and presently
that One drew near, and in some way that David did
not understand, for he used no form of speech, his
eyes made question of David’s soul, and seemed
to read its depths. And then at last He spoke
in words that He had before used to a fisherman beside
another sea, and said very softly, “Follow Me.”
But He said not how He should be followed; and presently
He seemed to depart in a shining track across the sea,
till the light that went with Him sank like a star
upon the verge. Then in his dream David was troubled,
and knew not how to follow; till he thought that it
might be given him, as it was given once to Peter,
to walk dry-shod over the depth; but when he set foot
upon the water there broke so furious a wave at him,
that he knew not how to follow. So he went back
and kneeled upon the sand, and said aloud in his doubt,
“What shall I do, Lord?” and as the words
sounded on his tongue he awoke.
Then all that day he pondered how
he should find the Lord; for he knew that though he
had a hope in his heart, and though he leaned much
upon God, yet he had not wholly found Him yet.
God was sometimes with him and near to him, but sometimes
far withdrawn; and then, for he was a very simple
man, he said to himself, “I will give myself
wholly to the search for my Lord. I will live
solitary, and I will fix my mind upon Him”;
for he thought within himself that his hard life, and
the cares of the household in which he had dwelt,
had been what had perhaps kept him outside; and therefore
he thought that God had taken these cares away from
him. And so he made up his mind.
Then he cast about where he had best
dwell; and he thought of the Isles of Sunset as a
lonely place, where he might live and not be disturbed.
There was the little cave high up in the rock-face,
looking towards the land, to which he had once scrambled
up. This would give him shelter; and there were
moreover some small patches of earth, near the base
of the rock, where he could grow a few herbs and a
little corn. He had some money of his own, which
would keep him until his garden was grown up; and
he could fish, he thought, from the rocks, and find
shell-fish and other creatures of the sea, which would
give him meat.
So the next day he bought a few tools
that he thought he would need, and rowed all over
when it was dusk. He put his small stores in a
cave by the water’s edge. The day after,
he went and made a few farewells; he told no one where
he was going; but it pleased him to find a little
love for him in the hearts of some. One parting
was a strangely sore one: there was an old and
poor woman that lived very meanly in the place, who
had an only granddaughter, a little maid. These
two he loved very much, and had often done them small
kindnesses. He kept this good-bye to the last,
and went to the house after sundown. The old
woman bade him sit down, and asked him what he meant
to do, now that he was alone. “I am going
away, mother,” he said gently. The child,
hearing this, came over the room from where she sate,
and said to him, “No, David, do not go away.”
“Yes, dear child,” he said, “I must
even go.” Then she said, “But where
will you go? May I not come to see you sometimes?”
and she put her small arms round his neck, and laid
her cheek to his. Then David’s heart was
very full of love, and he said, smiling, and with
his arm round the child, “Dear one, I must not
say where I am going and it is a rough place,
too, not fit for such tender little folk as you; but,
if I can, I will come again and see you.”
Then the old grandmother, looking upon him very gravely,
said, “Tell me what is in your mind.”
But he said, “Nay, mother, do not ask me; I
am going to a place that is near and yet far; and I
am going to seek for one whom I know not and yet know;
and the way is long and dark.” Then she
forbore to ask him more, and fell to pondering sadly;
so after they had sate awhile, he rose up and loosed
the child’s arms from him, kissing her; and the
tears stood in his eyes; and he thought in himself
that God was very wise; for if he had had a home of
his own, and children whom he loved, he could never
have found it in his heart to leave them. So
he went out.
Then he climbed up the steep path
that led to the downs, and so to the bay where the
Isles lay. And just as he reached the top, the
moon ran out from a long bank of cloud; and he saw
the village lie beneath him, very peaceful in the
moonlight; there were lights in some of the windows;
the roofs were silvered in the clear radiance of the
moon, and the shadows lay dark between. He could
see the little streets, every inch of which he knew,
and the port below. He could see the coast stretch
away to the east, headland after headland, growing
fainter; and the great spaces of the sea, with the
moon glittering on the waves. There was a holy
and solemn peace about it all; and though his life
had not been a happy one there, he knew in a flash
that the place was very dear to his heart, and he
said a prayer to God, that He would guard and cherish
the village and those that dwelt there. Then
he turned, and went on to the downs; and presently
descended by a steep path to the sea, through the
thickets. He took off his clothes, and tied them
in a pack on his back; and then he stepped quietly
into the bright water, which lapped very softly against
the shore, a little wave every now and then falling
gently, followed by a long rustling of the water on
the sand, and a silence till the next wave fell.
He waded on till he could swim, and then struck out
to where the Isles stood, all sharp and bright in
the moon. He swam with long quiet strokes, hearing
the water ripple past; and soon the great crags loomed
out above him, and he heard the waves fall among their
rocky coves. At last he felt the ground beneath
his feet; and coming out of the water he dressed himself,
and then for he would not venture on the
cliffs in the uncertain light gathering
up some dried weeds of the sea, he made a pillow for
his head and slept, in a wonderful peace of mind,
until the moon set; and not long after there came a
pale light over the sea in the east, brightening slowly,
until at last the sun, like a fiery ball, broke upwards
from the sea; and it was day.
Now when David awoke in the broad
daylight, he found himself full of a great joy and
peace. He seemed, as it were, to have leaped over
a wide ditch, and to see the world across it.
Now he was alone with God, and he had put all the
old, mean, hateful life away from him. It did
not even so much as peep into his mind that he would
have to endure many hardships of body, rain, and chilly
winds, a bed of rock, and fare both hard and scanty.
This was not what had troubled him in the old days.
What had vexed his heart had been unclean words and
deeds, greediness, hardness, cruel taunts, the lack
of love, and the meanness and baseness of the petty
life. All that was behind him now; he felt free
and strong, and while he moved about to spy out his
new kingdom, he sang loudly to himself a song of praise.
The place pleased him mightily; over his head ran
up the cliff with its stony precipices and dizzy ledges.
The lower rocks all fringed with weeds, like sea-beasts
with rough hair, stood out black from the deep blue
water that lay round the rocks. He loved to hear
the heavy plunge of the great waves around his bastions,
the thin cries of the sea-birds that sailed about
the precipice, or that lit on their airy perches.
Everywhere was a brisk sharp scent of the sea, and
the fresh breeze, most unlike the close sour smell
of the little houses. He felt himself free and
strong and clean, and he thought of all the things
he would say to God in the pleasant solitude, and
how he would hear the low and far-off voice of the
Father speaking gently with his soul.
His first care was to find the cave
that was to shelter him. He spent the day in
climbing very carefully and lightly all over the face
of the rock. Never had he known his hand so strong,
or his head so sure. He sate for a time on a
little ledge, to which he had climbed on the crag
face, and he feasted his eyes upon the sight of the
great cliffs of the mainland that ran opposite him,
to left and right, in a wide half-circle. His
eyes dwelt with pleasure upon the high sloping shoulders
of rock, on which the sun now shone very peacefully,
the strip of moorland at the top, the brushwood growing
in the sloping coves, the clean shingle at the base
of the rocks, and the blue sky over all. That
was the world as God had made it, and as He intended
it to be; it was only men who made it evil, huddling
together in their small and filthy dens, so intent
on their little ugly lives, their food and drink and
wicked ways.
Presently he found the cave-mouth,
and noted in his mind the best way thither. The
cave seemed to him a very sweet place; the mouth was
all fringed with little ferns; inside it was dry and
clean; and in a few hours he had disposed all his
small goods within it. There was a low slope,
on one side of the rocks, where the fern grew plentifully.
He gathered great armfuls of the dry red stalks, and
made himself a rustling bed. So the day wore
pleasantly away. One of his cares was to find
water; but here it seemed that God blessed him very
instantly, for he found a place near the sea, where
a little spring soaked cool out of the rock, with
a pleasant carpet of moss and yellow flowers.
He found, too, some beds of shell-fish, which he saw
would give him food and bait for his fishing.
So about sundown he cast a line from the end of the
rocks and presently caught a fish, a ling, which lives
round rocky shores. This he broiled at a small
fire of driftwood, for he had brought tinder with
him; and it pleased him to think of the meal that
the Apostles took with the risen Christ, a meal which
He had made for them, and to which He Himself called
them; for that, too, was a broiled fish, and eaten
by the edge of the sea. Also he ate a little
of the bread he had brought with him; and with it some
of a brisk juicy herb, called samphire, that sprouted
richly in the cliff, which gave his meat an aromatic
savour; and with a drink of fresh spring water he
dined well, and was content; then he climbed within
the cave, and fell asleep to the sound of the wind
buffeting in the cliff, and the fall of great waves
on the sea beaches.
Now I might make a book of all the
things that David saw and did on the islands, but
they were mostly simple and humble things. He
fared very hard, but though he often wondered how
he would find food for the next day, it always came
to him; and he kept his health in a way which seemed
to him to be marvellous; indeed he seemed to himself
to be both stronger in body and lighter in spirit
than he had ever been before. He both saw and
heard things that he could not explain. There
were sounds the nature of which he could not divine;
on certain days there was a far-off booming, even
when the waves seemed still; at times, too, there
was a low musical note in the air, like the throbbing
of a tense string of metal; once or twice he heard
a sound like soft singing, and wondered in his heart
what creature of the sea it might be that uttered
it. On stormy nights there were sad moans and
cries, and he often thought that there were strange
and unseen creatures about him, who hid themselves
from sight, but whose voices he certainly heard; but
he was never afraid. One night he saw a very
beautiful thing; it had been a still day, but there
was an anxious sound in the wind which he knew portended
a storm; he was strangely restless on such days, and
woke many times in the night: at last he could
bear the silence of the cave no more, and went out,
descending swiftly by the rocks, the path over which
he could have now followed blindfold, down to the
edge of the sea. Then he saw that the waves that
beat against the rock were all luminous, as though
lit with an inner light; suddenly, far below, how
deep he knew not, he saw a great shoal of fish, some
of them very large, coming softly round the rocks;
the water, as it touched their blunt snouts, burst
as it were into soft flame, and showed every twinkle
of their fins and every beat of their tails.
The shoal came swiftly round the rocks, swimming intently,
and it seemed as though there was no end of them.
But at last the crowd grew thinner and then ceased;
but he could still see the water rippling all radiant
in the great sea-pools, showing the motion of broad
ribbons of seaweed that swayed to and fro, and lighting
up odd horned beasts that stirred upon the ledges.
From that day forth he was often filled with a silent
wonder at all the sleepless life that moved beneath
the vast waters, and that knew nothing of the little
human lives that fretted themselves out in the thin
air above. That day was to him like the opening
of a door into the vast heart of God.
But for all his happiness, the thought
weighed upon him, day after day, of all the grief
and unhappiness that there was about him. A dying
bird that he found in a pool, and that rolled its filmy
eye upon him in fear, as if to ask why he must disturb
it in its last sad languid hour, the terror in which
so many of the small fish abode he saw
once, when the sea was clear, a big fish dart like
a dark shadow, with open mouth and gleaming eye, on
a little shoal of fishes that sported joyfully in
the sun; they scattered in haste, but they had lost
their fellows all this made him ponder;
but most of all there weighed on his heart the thought
of the world he had left, of how men spoke evil of
each other, and did each other hurt; of children whose
lot was to be beaten and cursed for no fault, but to
please the cruel temper of a master; of patient women,
who had so much to bear so that sometimes
he had dark thoughts of why God made the world so fair,
and then left so much that was amiss, like a foul
stream that makes a clear pool turbid. And there
came into his head a horror of taking the lives of
creatures for his own use the shell-worm
that writhed as he pulled it from the shell; the bright
fish that came up struggling and gasping from the
water, and that fought under his hand and
at last he made up his mind that he would take no
more life, though how he would live he knew not; and
as for the world of men, he became very desirous to
help a little as best he could; and there being at
this time a wreck in the bay, when a boat and all
on board were lost, he thought that he would wish,
if he could, to keep a fire lit on dark nights, so
that ships that passed should see that there was a
dwelling there, and so keep farther away from the
dangerous rocks.
By this time it had become known in
the country where he was his figure had
been seen several times from the cliffs; and one day
there had come a boat, with some of those that knew
him, to the island. He had no wish to mix again
with men; but neither did he desire to avoid them,
if it was God’s will that they should come.
So he came down courteously, and spoke with the master
of the boat, who asked him very curiously of his life
and all that he did. David told him all; and
when the master asked him why he had thus fled away
from the world, David said simply that he had done
so that he might pray to God in peace. Then the
master said that there were many waking hours in the
day, and he knew not what there might be to say prayers
about, “for,” he said, “you have
no book to make prayers out of, like the priests,
and you have no store of good-sounding words with which
to catch the ear of God.” Then David said
that he prayed to God to guard all things great and
small, and to help himself along the steep road to
heaven. Then the master wondered very much, and
said that a man must please himself, and no doubt
it was a holy work. Then he asked a little shamefacedly
for David to pray for him, that he might be kept safe
from shipwreck, and have good fortune for fishing,
to which David replied, “Oh, I do that already.”
Before the master went away, and he
stayed not long, he asked David how he lived, and
offered him food. And David being then in a strait for
he had lately vowed to take no life, said gladly that
he would have anything they could give him. So
the master gave him some victual. And it happened,
just at this time, that some of the boats from the
village had a wonderful escape from a storm, and through
that season they caught fish in abundance; so it was
soon noised abroad that this was all because of David’s
prayers; and after that he never had need of food,
for they brought him many little presents, such as
eggs, fruit, and bread for he would take
no meat giving them into his hands when
he was on the lower rocks, or leaving them on a ledge
in the cove when he was aloft. And as, when the
fish were plenteous, they gave him food in gratitude,
and when fish were scarce, they gave it him even more
abundantly that they might have his prayers, David
was never in lack; in all of which he saw the wonderful
hand of God working for him.
Now David pondered very much how he
might keep a light aloft on dangerous nights.
His first thought was to find a sheltered
place among the rocks to seaward, where his fire could
burn and not be extinguished by the wind; but, though
he climbed all about the rocks, he could find no place
to his mind. One day, however, he was in the furthest
recess of his cave, when he felt that among the rocks
a little thin wind blew constantly from one corner;
and feeling about with his hands, he found that it
came out of a small crack in the rocks. The stone
above it seemed to be loose; and he perceived after
a while that the end of the cave must be very near
to the seaward face of the crag, and that the cave
ran right through the rock, and was only kept from
opening on the outer side by a thin barrier of stone;
so after several attempts, using all his strength,
he worked the stone loose; and then with a great effort,
he thrust the stone out; it fell with a great noise,
leaping among the crags, and at last plunging into
the sea. The wind rushed in through the gap;
then he saw that he had, as it were, a small window
looking out to sea, so small that he could not pass
through it, but large enough to let a light shine forth,
if there were a light set there; but though it seemed
again to him like the guiding hand of God, he could
not devise how he should shelter the light within
from the wind. Indeed the hole made the cave a
far less habitable place for himself, for the wind
whistled very shrewdly through; he found it easy enough
to stop the gap with an old fisherman’s coat but
then the light was hidden from view. So he tried
a further plan; he dug a hole in the earth at the top
of the cliff, and then made a bed of dry sand at the
bottom of it; and he piled up dry seaweed and wood
within, thinking that if he lit his beacon there,
it might be sheltered from the wind, and would burn
fiercely enough to throw up the flame above the top
of the pit. He saw that heavy rain would extinguish
his fire; but the nights were most dangerous when it
blew too strongly for rain to fall. So one night,
when the wind blew strongly from the sea, he laid
wood in order, which he had gathered on the land,
and conveyed with many toilsome journeys over to the
island. Then he lighted the pile, but it was
as he feared; the wind blew fiercely over the top,
and drove the flames downward, so that the pit glowed
with a fierce heat; and sometimes a lighted brand was
caught up and whirled over the cliffs; but he saw
plainly enough that the light would not show out at
sea. He was very sad at this, and at last went
heavily down to his cave, not knowing what he should
do; and pondering long before he slept, he could see
no way out.
In the morning he went up to the cliff-top
again, and turned his steps to the pit. The fire
had burned itself out, but the sides were still warm
to the touch; all the ashes had been blown by the force
of the wind out of the hole; but he saw some bright
things lie in the sand, which he could not wholly
understand, till he pulled them out and examined them
carefully. They were like smooth tubes and lumps
of a clear stuff, like molten crystal or frozen honey,
full of bubbles and stains, but still strangely transparent;
and then, though he saw that these must in some way
have proceeded from the burning of the fire, he felt
as though they must have been sent to him for some
wise reason. He turned them over and over, and
held them up to the light. It came suddenly into
his mind how he would use these heavenly crystals;
he would make, he thought, a frame of wood, and set
these jewels in the frame. Then he would set
this in the hole of his cave, and burn a light behind;
and the light would thus show over the sea, and not
be extinguished.
So this after much labour he did;
he fitted all the clear pieces into the frame, and
he fixed the frame very firm in the hole with wooden
wedges. Then he pushed clay into the cracks between
the edges of the frame and the stone. Then he
told some of those who came to him that he had need
of oil for a purpose, and they brought it him in abundance,
and wicks for a lamp; and these he set in an earthen
bowl filled with oil, and on a dark night, when all
was finished, he lit his lamp; and then clambered
out on the furthest rocks of the island, and saw his
light burn in the rocks, not clearly, indeed, but like
an eye of glimmering fire. Then he was very glad
at heart, and he told the fishermen how he had found
means to set a light among the cliffs, and that he
would burn it on dark and stormy nights, so that they
might see the light and avoid the danger. The
tidings soon spread, and they thought it a very magical
and holy device; but did not doubt that the knowledge
of it was given to David by God.
So David was in great happiness.
For he knew that the Father had answered his prayer,
and allowed him, however little, to help the seafaring
folk.
He made other things after that; he
put up a doorway with a door of wood in the entering
of the cave; he made, too, a little boat that he might
go to and fro to the land without swimming. And
now, having no care to provide food, for they brought
it him in abundance, he turned his mind to many small
things. He made a holy carving in the cave, of
Christ upon the Cross and he carved around
it a number of creatures, not men only, but birds
and beasts, looking to the Cross, for he thought that
the beasts also should have their joy in the great
offering. His fame spread abroad; and there came
a priest to see him, who abode with him for some days,
prayed with him, and taught him much of the faith.
The priest gave him a book, and showed him the letters;
but David, though he longed to read what was within,
could not hold the letters in his head.
He tamed, too, the wild birds of the
rock, so that they came to his call; one was a gull,
which became so fearless that it would come to his
cave, and sit silent on a rock, watching him while
he worked. He kept a fish, too, in a pool of
the rocks, that would rise to the edge when he approached.
But all this time he went not near
to the village; for his solitude had become very dear
to him, and he prayed continually; and at evening
and morning and midday he would sing praises to God,
simple words that he had made.
One morning he awoke in the cave,
and as he bestirred himself he thought in his heart
of all his happiness. It was a still morning,
but the sky was overcast. Suddenly he heard voices
below him; and thinking that he was needed, he descended
the rocks quickly, and came down a little way from
a group of sailors who were standing on the shore;
there was a boat drawn up on the sand, and near at
hand there lay at anchor a small ship, that seemed
to be of a foreign gear, and larger than he was wont
to see. He came somewhat suddenly upon the group,
and they seemed, as it were, to be amazed to see a
man there. He went smilingly towards them, but
as he did so there came into his heart a feeling of
danger, he knew not what; and he thought that it would
be better to retire up the rocks to his cave, and
wait till the men had withdrawn for it
was not likely that they would visit him there, or
that even if they saw the way thither, they would adventure
it, as it was steep and dangerous. But he put
the thought away and came up to them. They seemed
to be conferring together in low voices, and the nearer
that he drew, the less he liked their look. He
spoke to them, but they seemed not to understand,
and answered him back very roughly in a tongue he
did not understand. But presently they put one
forward, an old man, who had some words of English,
who asked him what he did there. He tried to
explain that he lived on the island, but the old man
shook his head, evidently not believing that there
could be one living in so bare a place. Then
the men conferred again together, and presently the
old man asked him, in his broken speech, whether he
would take service on the ship with them. David
said, smiling, that he would not, for he had other
work to do; and the old man seemed to try and persuade
him, saying that it was a good service; that they lived
a free life, wandering where they would; but that
they had lost men lately, and were hardly enough to
sail the ship.
Then it came into David’s mind
that he had fallen in with pirates. They were
not often seen in these parts, for there was little
enough that they could get, the folk being all poor,
and small traffic passing that way. And then,
for he saw the group beginning to gather round him,
he made a prayer in his heart that he should be delivered
from the evil, and made proffer to the men of the little
stores that he had. The old man shook his head,
and spoke with the others, who now seemed to be growing
angry and impatient; and then he said to David that
they had need of him to help to sail the ship, and
that he must come whether he would or no. David
cast a glance round to see if he could escape up the
rocks; but the men were all about him, and seeing
in his eye that he thought of flight, they laid hands
upon him. David resisted with all his might,
but they overpowered him in a moment, bound his hands
and feet, and cast him with much force into their
boat. Then David was sorely disheartened; but
he waited, committing his soul to God. While
he waited, he saw a strange thing; on the beach there
lay a box, tightly corded; the men raised this up very
gently, and with difficulty, as it seemed to be heavy.
Then they carried it up above the tide-mark; and,
making a hole among the loose stones, they buried
it very carefully, casting stones over it. Then
one of them with a chisel made a mark on the cliff
behind, to show where the box lay and then,
first looking carefully out to sea, they came into
the boat, and rowed off to the ship, which seemed
almost deserted; paying no more heed to David than
if he had been a log of wood.
The old man who understood English
steered the boat; and David tried to say some words
to him, to ask that he should be released; but the
old man only shook his head; and at last bade David
be silent with great anger. They rowed slowly
out, and David could see the great rocks, that had
now been his home so long, rising, still and peaceful,
in the morning light. Every rock and cranny was
known to him. There was the place where, when
he first came, he was used to fish. There was
the cliff-top where he had made his fire; he could
even see his little window in the front of the rocks,
and he thought with grief that it would be dark and
silent henceforth. But he thought that he was
somehow in the hand of God; and that though to be dragged
away from his home seemed grievous, there must be
some task to which the Father would presently set
him, even if it were to go down to death; and though
the cords that bound him were now very painful, and
his heart was full of sorrow, yet David felt a kind
of peace in his spirit which showed him that God was
still with him.
When they got to the ship, there arose
a dispute among the men as to whether they should
run out to sea before it was dark, or whether they
should lie where they were; there was but little wind,
so they made up their minds to stay. David himself
thought from the look of the sky that there was strong
weather brewing. The old man who spoke English
asked him what he thought, and he told him that there
would be wind. He seemed to be disposed to believe
David; but the men were tired, and it was decided
to stay.
They had unbound David that he might
go on board; and the pain in his hands and feet was
very great when the bonds were unloosed; and when
he was on board they bound him again, but not so tightly,
and led him down into a cabin, close and dirty, where
a foul and smoky lamp burnt. They bade him sit
in a corner. The low ill-smelling place was very
grievous to David, and he thought with a sore heart
of his clean cold cave, and his bed of fern.
The men seemed to take no further heed of him, and
went about preparing a meal. There seemed to be
little friendliness among them; they spoke shortly
and scowled upon each other; and David divined that
there had been some dispute aboard, and that they
were ill-content. There was little discipline,
the men going and coming when they would.
Before long a meal was prepared; some
sort of a stew with a rich strong smell, that seemed
very gross and foul to David, who had been used so
long to his simple fare. The men came in and took
from the dish what they desired; and a large jar was
opened, which from its fierce smell seemed to contain
a hot and fiery spirit; and that it was so David could
easily discern, from the flushed faces and louder talk
of the men, which soon became mingled with a gross
merriment. The old man brought a mess of the
food to David, who shook his head smiling. Then
the other, with more kindness than David had expected,
asked if he would have bread; and fetched him a large
piece, unbinding his hands for a little, that he might
eat. Then he offered him some of the spirit;
but David asked for water, which the old man gave him,
binding his hands after he had drunk, with a certain
gentleness.
Presently the old man, after he too
had eaten, came and sate down beside David; and in
his broken talk seemed to wish to win him, if he could,
to join them more willingly. He spoke of the pleasant
life they lived, and of the wealth that they made,
though he said not how they came by it. He told
him that he had seen some of it hidden that day, which
they had done for greater security, so that, if the
ship should be cast away, the men might have some
of their spoil waiting for them; and David understood
from him, though he had but few words to explain it,
that it had been that which had caused a strife among
them. For they had come by the treasure very
hardly, and they had lost some of the crew in so doing
it and some of the men had desired to share
it, and have done with the sea for ever; but that
it had been decided to make another voyage first.
Then David said very gently that he
did not desire to join them, for he was a man of peace;
and he told him of his lonely life, and how he made
a light to keep ships off the dangerous coast; and
at that the old man looked at him with a fixed air,
and nodded his head as though he had himself heard
of the matter, or at least seen the light all
this David told him, speaking slowly as to a child;
but it seemed as though every minute the remembrance
of the language came more and more back to the old
man.
But at last the man shook his head,
and said that he was sorry so peaceful a life must
come to an end. But, indeed, David must go with
them whether he would or no; and that they would be
good comrades yet; and he should have his share of
whatever they got. And then he left David and
went on to the deck.
Then there fell a great despair upon
David; and at the same time the crew, excited by the
drink they had taken, for they drained the jar, began
to dispute among themselves, and to struggle and fight;
and one of them espied David, and they gathered round
and mocked him. They mocked at his dress, his
face, his hair, which had grown somewhat long.
And one of them in particular seemed most urgent, speaking
long to the others, and pointing at David from time
to time, while the others fell into a great laughter.
Then they fell to plucking his hair, and even to beating
him and they tried to force the spirit into
his mouth, but he kept his teeth clenched; and the
very smell of the fiery stuff made his brain sick.
But he could not stir hand or foot; and presently
there came into his mind a great blackness of anger,
so that he seemed to be in the very grip of the evil
one; and he knew in his heart that if he had been
unbound, he would have slain one or more of them;
for his heart beat thick, and there came a strange
redness into his sight, and he gnashed his teeth for
rage; at which they mocked him the more. But
at last the old man came down into the cabin, and
when he saw what they were at, he spoke very angrily
to them, stamping his foot; and it seemed as though
he alone had any authority, for they left off ill-using
David, and went from him one by one.
Then, after a while they began to
nod in their places; one or two of them cast themselves
into beds made in the wall; others fell on the floor,
and slept like beasts; and at last they all slept;
and last of all the old man came in again, bearing
a lamp, and looked round the room in a sort of angry
disgust. Then he said a word to David, and opening
a door went on into a cabin beyond, closing the door
behind him.
Then, in the low light of the smoking
lamp, and in the hot and reeking room, with the foul
breathing of the sleepers round him, David spent a
very dreadful hour. He had never in the old days
seen so ill a scene; and it was to him, exhausted
by pain and by rage, as if a dark thing came behind
him, and whispered in his secret ear that God regarded
not men at all, and that the evil was stronger than
the good, and prevailed. He tried to put the
thought away; but it came all the more instantly,
that what he had seen could not be, if God had indeed
power to rule. It was not only the scene itself,
but the thought of what these men were, and the black
things they had doubtless done, the deeds of murder,
cruelty, and lust that were written plainly on all
their faces; all these came like dark shadows and gathered
about him.
David stirred a little to ease himself
of his pain and stiffness; and his foot struck against
a thing. He looked down, and saw in the shadow
of the table a knife lying, which had fallen from some
man’s belt. A thought of desperate joy
came into his mind. He bent himself down with
his bound hands, and he contrived to gather up the
knife. Then, very swiftly and deftly, he thrust
the haft between his knees; then he worked the rope
that bound his hands to and fro over the blade; the
rope parted, and the blood came back into his numbed
fingers with a terrible pain. But David heeded
it not, and stooping down, he cut the cord that bound
his feet; then he rose softly, and sate down again;
for the blood, returning to his limbs, made him feel
he could not stand yet awhile. All was still
in the cabin, except for the slow breathing of those
that slept; save that every now and then one of the
sleepers broke into a stifled cry, and muttered words,
or stirred in his sleep.
Presently David felt that he could
walk. He pondered for a moment whether he should
take the knife, if he were suddenly attacked; but he
resisted the thought, and left the knife lying on the
ground.
Then stepping lightly among the sleepers,
he moved like a shadow to the door; very carefully
he stepped; and at each movement or muttered word
he stopped and caught his breath. Suddenly one
of the men rose up, leaning on his arm, and looked
at him with a stupid stare; but David stood still,
waiting, with his heart fit to break within his breast,
till the man lay down again. Then David was at
the door. The cabin occupied half the ship to
the bows; the rest was undecked, with high bulwarks;
a rough ladder of steps led to the gangway. David
stood for a moment in the shadow of the door; but
there seemed no one on the watch without. The
pure air and the fresh smell of the sea came to his
senses like a breath of heaven. He stepped swiftly
over a coil of rope; then up the ladder, and plunged
noiselessly into the sea.
He swam a few strokes very strongly;
and then he looked about him. The night was as
dark as pitch. He could see a dim light from the
ship behind him; the water rose and fell in a slow
heavy swell; but which way the land lay he could not
tell. But he said to himself that it was better
to drown and be certainly with God, than in the den
of robbers he had left. So he turned himself
round in the water, trying to remember where the shore
lay, but it was all dark, both the sky and sea, with
a pitchy blackness; only the lights of the ship glimmered
towards him like little bright paths across the heaving
tide.
Suddenly there came a thing so wonderful
that David could hardly believe he saw truly; a bright
eye of light, as it were, opened upon him in the dark,
far off, and hung high in the heavens, like a quiet
star. The radiance of it was like the moon, cold
and clear. And though David could not at first
divine whence it came, he did not doubt in his heart
that it was there to guide him; so he struck out towards
it, with long silent strokes. He swam for a long
time, the light shining softly over the water, and
seeming to rise higher over his head, while the glimmering
of the ship’s lights grew fainter and more murky
behind him. Then he became aware that he was
drawing near to the land; great dark shapes loomed
up over his head, and he heard the soft beating of
waves before him. Then he could see too, as he
looked upon the light, that there was a glimmer around
it; and he saw that it came from the edges and faces
of rocks that were lit up by the radiance. So
he swam more softly; and presently his foot struck
a rock covered with weed; so he put his feet down,
waded in cautiously, and pulling himself up by the
hands found himself on a rocky shore, and knew that
it was his own island.
Then the light above him, as though
it had but waited for his safety to be secured, died
softly away, like the moon gliding into a cloud.
David wondered very much at this, and cast about in
his mind how it might be; but his heart seemed to
tell him that there was some holy and beautiful thing
on the island very near to him. He could hardly
contain himself for gladness; and he thought that God
had doubtless given him this day of misery and terror,
partly that he might value his peace truly, and partly
that he might feel that he had it not of right, but
by the gracious disposition of the Father.
So he climbed very softly and swiftly
to the cave; and entered it with a great gladness;
and then he became aware of a great awe in his mind.
There was somewhat there, that he could not see with
his eyes, but which was more real and present than
anything he had ever known; the cave seemed to shine
with a faint and tender gleam that was dying away
by slow degrees; as though the roof and walls had been
charged with a peaceful light, which still rayed about
them, though the radiance that had fed it was withdrawn.
He took off his dripping clothes, and wrapped himself
in his old sea-cloak. But he did not think of
sleep, or even of prayer; he only sate still on his
bed of fern, with his eyes open in the darkness, drinking
in the strong and solemn peace which seemed to abide
there. David never had known such a feeling,
and he was never to know it again so fully; but for
the time he seemed to sit at the foot of God, satisfied.
While he thus sate, a great wind sprang up outside
and thundered in the rocks; fiercer and fiercer it
blew, and soon there followed it the loud crying of
the sea, as the great waters began to heave and rage.
Then David bestirred himself to light and trim his
lamp, and set it in the window as a warning to ships.
And when he had done this he felt a great and sudden
weariness, and he laid himself down; and sleep closed
over him at once, as the sea closes over a stone that
is flung into it.
Once in the night he woke, with the
roar of the storm in his ears, and wondered that he
had slept through it. He had been through many
stormy nights, but he had never heard the like of this.
The wind blew with a steady roar, like a flood of
thunder outpoured; in the midst of it, the great waves,
hurled upon the rocks, uttered their voices; and between
he heard the hiss of the water, as it rushed downwards
from the cliff face. In the midst of all came
a sharp and sudden wailing cry; and then he began
to wonder what the poor ship was doing, which he thought
of as riding furiously at her anchor, with the drunken
crew, and the old man with his sad and solemn face,
who seemed so different from his unruly followers,
and yet was not ashamed to rule over them and draw
profit from their evil deeds. In spite of the
ill they had tried to do him, he felt a great pity
for them in his heart; but this was but for a moment,
for sleep closed over him again, and drew him down
into forgetfulness.
When David woke in the morning, the
gale had died away, but the sky wept from low and
ragged clouds, as if ashamed and sullen at the wrath
of the day before. Water trickled in the cracks
of the rock; and when David peered abroad, he looked
into the thin drifting clouds. He had a great
content in his heart, but the awe and the strange peace
of the night had somehow diminished.
He began to reflect upon the light
that he had seen from the sea. It was not his
lamp that had given out such light, for it was clear
and thin, while the light his own lamp gave was angry
and red. Moreover, when he had lighted the lamp
before the storm, it was standing idle, not in the
window-place, but on the rock-shelf where he had set
it. Then he knew that some great and holy mystery
had been wrought for him that night, and that he had
been very tenderly used.
Presently he descended the cliff,
and went out upon the seaward side. The waves
still rose angrily under the grey sky, but were fast
abating. He saw in a moment that the shore was
full of wreckage; there were spars and timbers everywhere,
and all the litter of a ship. Some of the timbers
were flung so high upon the rocks that he saw how great
the violence of the storm had been. He walked
along, and in a minute he came upon the body of a
man lying on his face, strangely battered.
Then he saw another body, and yet
another. He lifted them up, but there was no
sign of life in them; and he recognised with a great
sadness that they were the pirates who had dragged
him from his home. He had for a moment one evil
thought in his mind, a kind of triumph in his heart
that God had saved him from his enemies, and delivered
them over to death; but he knew that it was a wicked
thought, and thrust it from him. At last at the
end of the rocks he found the old captain himself.
There was a kind of majesty about him, even in death,
as he lay looking up at the sky, with one arm flung
across his breast, and the other arm outstretched
beside him. Then he saw the ribs of the ship
itself stick up among the rocks, and he wondered to
find the hull so broken and ruinous.
His next care was that the poor bodies
should have burial. So about midday he took his
boat from its shelter, and rowed across to the land;
and then, with a strange fear of the heart, he climbed
the cliff, and walked down slowly to the village,
which he had thought in his heart he would never have
seen again.
The wind had now driven the clouds
out of the sky, and the sun came out with a strong
white light, the light that shines from the sky when
the earth has been washed clean by rain. It sparkled
brightly in the little drops that hung like jewels
in the grass and bushes. It was with a great
throb of the heart that David came out upon the end
of the down, and saw the village beneath him.
It looked as though no change had passed over it,
but as though its life must have stood still, since
he left it; then there came tears into David’s
eyes at the thought of the old hard life he had lived
there, and how God had since filled his cup so full
of peace; so with many thoughts in his heart he came
slowly down the path to the town. He first met
two children whom he did not know; he spoke to them,
but they looked for a moment in terror at his face;
his hair and beard were long, and he was all tanned
by the sun; but he spoke softly to them, and presently
they came to him and were persuaded to tell their
names. They were the children, David thought,
of a young lad whom he had known as a boy; and presently,
as the manner of children is when they have laid aside
fear, they told him many small things, their ages and
their doings, and other little affairs which seem
so big to a child; and then they would take his hands
and lead him to the village, while David smiled to
be so lovingly attended. He was surprised, when
he entered the street, to see how curiously he was
regarded. Even men and women, that he had known,
would hardly speak with him, but did him reverence.
The children would lead him to their house first;
and so he went thither, not unwilling. When they
were at the place, he found with a gentle wonder that
it was even the house where he had himself dwelt.
He went in, and found the mother of the children within,
one whom he had known as a girl. She greeted
him with the same reverence as the rest; so that he
at last took courage, and asked her why it should not
be as it had been before. And then he learned
from her talk, with a strange surprise, that it was
thought that he was a very holy man, much visited
by God, who not only had been shown how, by a kind
of magical secret, to save ships from falling on that
deadly coast, but as one whose prayers availed to
guard and keep the whole place safe. He tried
to show her that this was not so, and that he was a
simple person in great need of holiness; but he saw
that she only thought him the holier for his humility,
so he was ashamed to say more.
Then he went to the chief man in the
village, and told him wherefore he had come that
there was a wreck on the shore of the islands, and
that there were bodies that must be buried. One
more visit he paid, and that was to the little maiden
whom he had seen the last when he went away.
She was now nearly grown to a woman, and her grandmother
was very old and weak, and near her end. David
went there alone, and said that he had returned as
he had promised; but he found that the child had much
lost her remembrance of him, and could hardly see the
friend she had known in the strong and wild-looking
figure that he had become. He talked a little
quietly; the old grandmother, who could not move from
her chair, was easier with him, and asked him, looking
curiously upon him, whether he had found that of which
he went in search. “Nay, mother,”
he said, “not found; but I am like a man whose
feet are set in the way, and who sees the city gate
across the fields.” Then she smiled at
him and said, “But I am near the gate.”
Then he told her that he often thought of her, and
made mention of her in his prayers; and so rose to
go; but she asked him to bless her, which David did
very tenderly, and kissed her and departed; but he
went heavily; because he feared to be regarded as he
was now regarded; and he thought in his heart that
he would never return again, but dwell alone in his
cave with God. For the world troubled him; and
the voices of the children, and the looks of those
that he had known before seemed to lay soft hands
about his heart, and draw him back into the world.
The same day he returned to the cave;
and the boats came out and took the bodies away, and
they were laid in the burying-ground.
Then the next day many returned to
clear away the wreck; and David came not out of his
cave while they did this; for it went to his heart
to see the joy with which they gathered what had meant
the death of so many men. They asked him what
they should leave for him, and he answered, “Nothing only
a piece of plain wood, for a purpose.” So
when evening came they had removed all; and the island,
that had rung all day with shouts and talk and the
feet of men, was silent again; but before they went,
David said that he had a great desire to see a priest,
if a message could be sent; and this they undertook
to do. But David was very heavy-hearted for many
days, for it seemed to him that the sight of the world
had put all the peace out of his heart; and his prayers
came hollow and dry.
A few days after there came a boat
to the rock; the sea was running somewhat high, and
they had much ado to make a landing. David went
down to the water’s edge, and saw that besides
the fishermen, whom he knew, there was a little wizened
man in a priest’s dress, that seemed bewildered
by the moving of the boat and the tossing of the big
waves with their heaving crests, that broke upon the
rocks with a heavy sound. At last they got the
boat into the creek, and the little priest came nimbly
ashore, but not without a wetting. The fishermen
said that they would return in the evening, and fetch
the priest away.
He looked a frail man, and David could
not discern whether he were young or old; and he felt
a pity for a man who was so unhandy, and who seemed
to be so scared of the sea. But the priest came
up to him and took his hand. “I have heard
much of you, my brother,” he said, “and
I have desired to see you but this sea
of yours is a strange and wild monster, and I trust
it not, though indeed it is God’s
handiwork. Yet King David, your patron, was of
the same mind, I think, and wrote in one of his wise
psalms how it made the heart to melt within him.”
David looked at him with much attention as he spoke,
and there was something in the priest’s eye,
a kind of hidden fire, joined with a wise mirth, that
made him, all of a sudden, feel like a child before
him. So he said, “Where will your holiness
sit? It is cold here in the wind; I have a dwelling
in the rocks, but it is hard to come by except for
winged fowl, and for men like myself who have been
used to the precipices.”
“Well, show the way, brother,”
said the priest cheerfully, “and I will adventure
my best.” So David showed him the way up
the crags, and went slowly in front of him, that he
might help him up; but the priest climbed like a cat,
looking blithely about him, and had no need of help,
though he was encumbered with his robe.
When they were got there, the priest
looked curiously about him, and presently knelt down
before the carving, and said a little prayer to himself.
Then he questioned David about his
life, asking questions briskly, as though he were
accustomed to command; and David felt more and more
every moment that he was as a child before this masterful
and wary man. He told him of his early life,
and of his visions, and of his desire to know God,
and of the light that he set in the rocks; and then
he told him of his adventure with the pirates, not
forgetting the treasure. The priest heard him
with great attention, and said presently that he had
done well, and that God was with him. Then he
asked him how he would have the treasure bestowed,
and David said that he had no design in his mind.
“Then that shall be my care,” said the
priest, “and I doubt not that the Lord hath sent
it us, that there may be a church in this lonely place.”
And then, turning to David with a
wonderful and piercing look, he said, “And this
peace of spirit that you speak of, that you came here
to seek, tell me truly, brother, have you found it?”
Then David looked upon the ground
a little and said, “Dear sir, I know not; I
am indeed strangely happy in this lonely place; but
to speak all the truth, I feel like a man who lingers
at a gate, and who hears the sound of joy and melody
within, which rejoices his heart, but he is not yet
admitted. No,” he went on, “I have
not found the way. The Father is indeed very
near me, and I am certain of His love but
there is still a barrier between me and His Heart.”
Then the priest bowed his head awhile
in thought, but said nothing for a long space; and
then David said, “Dear sir, advise me.”
Then the priest looked at him with a clear gaze, and
said, “Shall I advise you, O my brother?”
And David said, “Yes, dear sir.” Then
the priest said, “Indeed, my brother, I see
in your life the gracious hand of God. He did
redeem you, and He planted in your heart a true seed
of peace. You have lived here a holy and an innocent
life; but He withholds from you His best gift, because
you are not willing to be utterly led by Him.
There have been in ancient days many such souls, who
have fled from the wickedness of the world, and have
spent themselves in prayer and penance, and have done
a holy work for indeed there are many victories
that may be won by prayer. But indeed, dear brother,
I think that God’s will for you is that this
lonely life of yours should have an end. I think
that you have herein followed your own pleasure overmuch;
and I believe that God would now have you go back to
the world, and work for Him therein. You have
a great power with this simple folk; but they are
as sheep without a shepherd, and must be fed, and
none but you can now feed them. You will bethink
you of the visit that the Lord Christ paid to the
Sisters of Bethany; Martha laboured much to please
Him, but she laboured for her own pleasing too; and
Mary it was that had the good part, because she thought
not of herself, but of the Lord. And now, dear
brother, I would have you do what will be very grievous
to you. I would have you go back to your native
place, and there abide to labour for God; you may come
hither at seasons, and be alone with God, and that
will refresh you; but you are now, methinks, like
a man who has found a great treasure, and who speaks
no word of it to others, and neither uses it himself,
but only looks upon it and is glad.”
Then David was very sad at the priest’s
words, knowing that he spoke the truth. But the
priest said, “Now we will speak no more of this
awhile; and I would not have you do it, unless your
heart consents thereto; only be strong.”
And then he asked if he might have somewhat to eat;
and David brought him his simple fare; so they ate
together, and while they ate, it came into David’s
mind that this was certainly the way. All that
afternoon they sate, while the wind rustled without,
and the sea made a noise; and then the priest said
they would go and look at the treasure, because it
was near evening, and he must return. So they
went down together, and drew the rocks off from the
box. It was a box of wood, tightly corded, and
they undid it, and found within a great store of gold
and silver pieces, which the priest reckoned up, and
said that it would be abundant for a church.
Then they saw the boat approach; and
the priest blessed David, and David thanked him with
tears, for showing him the truth; and the priest said,
“Not so, my brother; I did but show you what
is in your own heart, for God puts such truth in the
heart of all of us as we can bear; but sometimes we
keep it like a sword in its scabbard, until the bright
and sharp thing, that might have wrought great deeds,
be all rusted and blunted.”
And then the priest departed, taking
with him the box of gold, and David was left alone.
David was very heavy-hearted when
he was left alone on the island. He knew that
the priest had spoken the truth, but he loved his
solitary life, and the silence of the cave, the free
air and the sun, and the lonely current of his own
thoughts. The sun went slowly down over the waters
in a great splendour of light and colour, so that the
clouds in the sky seemed like purple islands floating
in a golden sea; David sitting in his cave thought
with a kind of terror of the small and close houses
of the village, the sound of feet, and talk of men
and women. At last he fell asleep; and in his
sleep he dreamed that he was in a great garden.
He looked about him with pleasure, and he presently
saw a gardener moving about at his work. He went
in that direction, and he saw that the man, who was
old and had a very wise and tender face, was setting
out some young trees in a piece of ground. He
planted them carefully with deft hands, and he smiled
to himself as he worked, as though he was full of
joyful thoughts. David wished in his heart to
go and speak with him, but something held him back.
Presently the gardener went away, and while he was
absent, another man, of a secret aspect, came swiftly
into the place, peering about him. His glance
passed David by, and David knew that he was in some
way unseen. The man looked all about him in a
furtive haste, and then plucked up one of the trees,
which seemed to David to be already growing and shooting
out small leaves and buds. The man smoothed down
the ground where he drew it out, and then went very
quickly away. David would have wished to stop
him, but he could not. Then the old gardener
came back, and looked long at the place whence the
tree had been drawn. Then he sighed to himself,
and cast a swift look in the direction in which the
man had fled. He had brought other trees with
him, but he did not plant one in the empty space, but
left it bare. Then David felt that he must follow
the other, and so he did. He found him very speedily,
but it was outside the garden, in a rough place, where
thorny bushes and wild plants grew thickly. The
other had cleared a little space among them, and here
he set the tree; but he planted it ill and hastily,
as though he was afraid of being disturbed; and then
he departed secretly. David stood and watched
the tree a little. It seemed at first to begin
to grow again as it had done before, but presently
something ailed it and it drooped. Then David
saw the thorny bushes near it begin to stretch out
their arms about it, and the wild herbs round about
sprang up swiftly, and soon the tree was choked by
them, and hardly appeared above the brake. David
began to be sorry for the tree, which still kept some
life in it, and struggled as it were feebly to put
out its boughs above the thicket. While he stood
he saw the old gardener approaching, and as he approached
he carefully considered the ground. When he saw
the tree, he smiled, and drew it out carefully, and
went back to the garden, and David followed him; he
planted it again tenderly in the ground; and the tree
which had looked so drooping and feeble began at once
to put forth leaves and flowers. The gardener
smiled again, and then for the first time looked upon
David. His eyes were deep and grave like a still
water; and he smiled as one might who shares a secret
with another. And then of a sudden David awoke,
and found the light of dawn creeping into the cave;
and he fell to considering the dream, and in a moment
knew that it was sent for his learning. So he
hesitated no longer, but gave up his will to God.
It was a sad hour for David nevertheless;
he walked softly about the cave, and he put aside
what he would take with him, and it seemed to him
that he was, as it were, uprooting a tree that had
grown deep; he tied up what he would take with him,
but he left some things behind, for he thought that
he might return. And then he kneeled down and
prayed, the tears running over his face; and lastly
he rose and kissed the cold wall of the cave; at the
door he saw the gull that had been with him so oft,
and he scattered some crumbs for it, and while the
bird fell to picking the crumbs, David descended the
rock swiftly, not having the heart to look about him;
and then he put his things in the boat, and rowed
swiftly and silently to the shore, looking back at
the great rocks which stood up all bright and clear
in the fresh light of the dawn, with the waves breaking
softly at their feet.
David had no fixed plan in his mind,
as he rowed across to the land. He only thought
that it was right for him to return, and to take up
his part in the old life again. He did not dare
to look before him, but simply put, as it were, his
hand in the hand of God, and hoped to be led forward.
He was soon at the shore, and he pulled his boat up
on the land, and left it lying in a little cave that
opened upon the beach; then he shouldered his pack,
and went slowly, with even strides, across the hill
and down to the village. He met no one on the
way, and the street seemed deserted. He made his
way to the house of the old woman who was his friend;
he put his small pack at the door and entered.
The little house was quite silent. But he heard
a sound of weeping; when he came into the outer room,
he saw the maiden sitting in a chair with her face
bowed on the table. He called to her by name;
she lifted her head and looked at him for a moment
and then rose up and came to him, as a child comes
to be comforted. He saw at once that some grievous
thing had happened; and presently with sobs and tears
she told him that her grandmother had died a few days
before, that she had been that day buried, and that
she knew not what she was to do. There seemed
more behind; and David at last made out that she was
asked in marriage by a young fisherman whom she did
not love, and she knew not how else to live.
And then he said that he was come back and would not
depart from her, and that she should be a daughter
to him.
Now of the rest of the life of David
I must not here speak; he lived in the village, and
he did his part; a little chapel was built in the
place with the money of the pirates; and David went
in and out among the folk of the place, and drew many
to the love of God; he went once back to the cave,
but he abode not long there; but of one thing I will
tell, and that is of a piece of carving that David
did, working little by little in the long winter nights
at the piece of wood that came from the pirate ship.
The carving is of a man standing on the shore of the
sea, and holding up a lantern in his hand, and on the
sea is carved a ship. And David calls his carving
“The Light of the World.” At the
top of it is a scroll, with the words thereon, “He
shall send down from on high to fetch me, and shall
take me out of many waters.” And beneath
is another scroll on which is graven, “Thou also
shalt light my candle; the Lord my God shall make
my darkness to be light.”