CHAPTER VII.
WHAT THE TORN BIBLE HAD DONE FOR HUBERT.
I will throw off this dead and useless part, As a strong runner, straining for his life, Unclasps a mantle to the hungry winds. ALEXANDER SMITH.
Five weeks more passed by, during which time Hubert grew in grace, andhis soul appeared to be ripening for heaven; his health improved, and bythe aid of a wheel-chair he could be moved to the window of his room,where he sat for many an hour reading the Bible, or enjoying the softwarm air, as he gazed out upon the forests and jungle that lay beforehim almost at his feet, or the snow-capped Himalayas in the distance.
One day, as he sat by the window, he asked the nurse if she knew whatbecame of the coat he wore on the day when he was wounded.
"Oh, yes, Captain," she replied, "I took care of it and put it away; ifyou wish to have it, I will fetch it for you."
"Thank you," said Hubert, "I should like to have it now." And the nursewent immediately to find it.
In a very few minutes the nurse returned, and, as she unfolded the coat,she said, "I fear it is very dirty, though these stains will be from theblood; I saw them when I folded it up, but I thought it best to takecare of it, for I know soldiers generally prize the coat they werewounded in; I have sent many a one home to England to the friends ofthose who have died--you will, I hope, be able to take your own."
"I hope so, nurse, though it will be some time yet before I can go;" andthen he began to examine the coat, and turned it over to find the pocketin the inside of the left breast: he found it, and there too was allthat remained of his "torn Bible." Pale as his cheek was from pain andsickness, a deeper pallor came over it as he drew out the Bible, and thecover of it met his eye. What was the meaning of the small round hole hesaw? All the truth flashed upon his mind at once; he knew what itmeant; and the cold perspiration stood out upon his forehead, as, withnervous hand, he turned over leaf by leaf until he came to a smallbullet. It was not large, but sufficient to have destroyed life if ithad penetrated his heart; and as he cast it upon the floor, he claspedthe torn Bible to his bosom, and bent his head low over his mother'slast gift--that despised and neglected treasure.
The nurse had seen all that Hubert did upon receiving his coat; she sawhim draw the book from the pocket, tremble as he opened it, and thencast the bullet upon the floor; but she would have taken but littlenotice of all that, if she had not seen his head droop as thoughsomething deeply troubled him.
"Come, Captain," she said, "that book makes you think sad things; come,sir, keep up your spirits, and give me the book to keep till you arestronger."
"Don't touch it; leave it with me," said Hubert, pushing back her hand;"I am strong enough--go away."
"No, Captain, I must not go away; you are not strong enough to bear anyexcitement; it would just throw you back again, after all our care ofyou. Think, sir, of getting well, not about that coat and book--I wish Ihad not brought them to you. I dare say when you see that coat allstained with blood and torn, you think about the narrow escape you havehad: but cheer up, Captain, and don't think about it now."
"Look here," said Hubert, pointing to the cover of the book, "see whatsaved my life;" and then he relieved his heart by telling her all aboutthat book; and as she listened she sat down upon a low chair before him,and, poor sympathizing one, she forgot, while her own tears fell as sheheard the story he told, that she had, only a few minutes before, chidedhim for his sadness.
Three months had passed; Hubert's illness had been blessed to him: bythe aid of crutches he moved about again, and frequently encountered hisold companions; some of them had visited him in hospital, and there wasa rumour in the regiment that Captain Goodwin had "gone religious." Itcaused some profane mirth amongst his comrades--the companions of hisformer life--and he felt ashamed to meet them. However, at last he didso, and it was when they came around him, and so warmly welcomed himback again, and expressed their hope that he would soon be restored toperfect health, that he told them, with a holy boldness, that heregretted his past life, and could never be one of their number again,unless they gave up their evil ways and walked with him in the path ofholiness. As might have been expected, the confession on the part ofHubert was received, for the most part, with laughter and derision; buthis heart was set upon the thing he sought, and from the hour hereceived the rebuff he determined, if possible, to commence a workamongst his reckless companions. The same spirit of earnestness anddevotion which had helped Hubert in worldly advancement, marked hisefforts now. He had partaken of heavenly things, and, like a truedisciple, could not bear the thought of any soul perishing; so, leaningupon his crutches, with his torn Bible in his hand, he went as often ashis strength would allow, and his own soul grew in grace as he toldGod's love to sinners to his comrades. Hubert did not labour very longat his new work; his wounds had been too severe to allow of hiscontinuing in the army, and before another three months had passed, anorder came for him to return to England.
At first the idea of going back to his own country was not welcome;indeed, India seemed to be his home more than England did, and as heturned to the nurse, who still attended him, he said--
"Nurse, I shall not go to England. How can I go with this poor uselessleg? I had better stay here."
"But, Captain, your leg is not useless; the doctor says you may some daybe able to walk with a stick."
"Does he? It will be very long first, I fear. No, I think I shall not gohome; no one will know me, for it is not as though I went home allright."
"Bless you, sir," replied the nurse, "plenty will know you--your motherwill, for one. I remember when our Tom ran away and went to sea, and wasgone ten years, and we never heard a word about him; well, all at once,home he came, and the moment we caught sight of him at the garden gate,though he had grown from a boy to a stout man, we all cried out, 'Here'spoor Tom.' We had never heard a word about his coming, or anything, yetwe knew him, and all ran out to meet him. I remember it well; and howpoor mother threw her arms round his neck and kissed him, and called himher darling, and I can't tell you what; then how she stood and cried,and scolded him for running away, and never writing; and then how shetook up her apron to wipe away her tears, and then kissed and hugged himagain. I never shall forget it. Poor mother! She and Tom are in heavennow. I watched beside them both, and though my heart nearly broke when Ilost them, I had rather have them where they are than enduring thetrials of this life."
"Did your brother die soon after he returned, then?" inquired Hubert.
"He only lived three years after he came home, for he had been very muchbeaten about, and his health was quite broken. Poor mother died sixmonths before he did. The year after they died I married, and came outhere, and I have seen some trouble. I buried three little children oneafter another, and then I buried my husband. They all lie just outthere, under that large tree in the corner of the burial-ground. I wasordered home, but I could not leave the spot where they were lying, sogave up my passage to England, and have stayed here ever since. I haveonly one wish, and that is to be buried just out there beside them. Itis sixteen years since my husband died; and the first time you can getso far just go and see how nicely I keep his and the children's graves."
Hubert was interested in the woman's story; her patient devotion andaffection won his heart, and he took the first opportunity of visitingthe graves of her loved ones, and as he gazed upon the well-kept moundsbefore him, his thoughts sped over the ocean to a distant land, and hesaw the village churchyard, with the grassy hillocks beneath which laythe remains of many members of his family, and lifting up his heart inprayer to God for humility and strength, he determined to bid farewellto India, and return to the fold from which he had wandered.
It was soon known that Hubert was going to England, and many ready handsand hearts assisted him in preparing to go. All his little property wascollected, several presents were given him, and many a regret wasexpressed at his leaving; all of which made it harder to go than he hadanticipated,
and he felt, as the time drew near, more and more sorry toleave. But there was no alternative; so he decided to sail in the firstvessel that left Calcutta after he arrived there. The doctor, to whomHubert had communicated his intention, came to him one evening and toldhim that, as he was at liberty to choose his own vessel, he could not dobetter than make his passage over the seas in the _Arctic_. "She is asplendid ship," said the doctor, "and the captain is a religious man. Iknow him well. You will not be annoyed with riotous conduct in hisvessel, and will have no cause to complain of the manner in which heobserves the Sabbath."
"Ah, that will be the ship, then," replied Hubert; "but did you eversail in it?"
"Yes, twice to the Cape of Good Hope and back; and I can assure you thatI have been in many a church and have not heard the service with suchcomfort as I heard it in that ship. Our beautiful Liturgy was read withsuch deep earnestness and pathos that I thought then, and I havethought ever since, that out on the ocean, with dangers around us, isthe fittest place for those grand prayers to be breathed; for as Ijoined and as I listened, I thought I could see Christ beside me walkingupon the sea, and my soul seemed carried up higher into heaven than ithad ever been before."
"That was beautiful!" exclaimed Hubert; "I always like to hear you talklike that, doctor, it makes me feel something of the same kind. I shalllike that ship; when will she sail?"
"I scarcely know, but it will not be long. She has been lying atCalcutta some time, and I should think is about returning to England;she has not gone, I know, because Lieutenant White told me last nightthat he intended sending a box to England by her. By the way, he can,perhaps, tell us when she will sail."
It was found, upon inquiry, that the _Arctic_ would set sail in aboutten days; so Hubert bade farewell as soon as he could to his friends,and, accompanied by the doctor, was in a few days on his way toCalcutta. He bore the fatigue of the journey better than he hadexpected, though he was very much exhausted, and was heartily glad whenhe reached the ship, and lay down to rest in his cabin. The doctorstayed all night, and then the next morning they took leave of eachother, promising to continue the friendship which, to Hubert at least,had been such a blessing. Hubert did not at first feel all he had lostwhen the doctor left, for his mind was somewhat occupied in arranginghis cabin, so as to be as comfortable as possible on the voyage; butthis, of course, had an end, and a consciousness came over him that hewas friendless on the wide world amongst strangers. At first he thoughtit would be better to keep so, and not leave his cabin at all, for, ifhe went on deck, the remarks or sympathy of the other passengers wouldbe very annoying. They might pity him, and be kind and attentive to himin his weakness, but it would only make him feel more keenly thecalamity which had fallen on him in the full vigour of his manhood; andthen, as his thoughts rushed back, and he saw himself but a few monthsbefore so full of health and activity, he forgot the great blessing thathad accompanied his illness, and his heart murmured and rebelled. A darkcloud seemed to have fallen over Hubert: for three days he maintained agloomy silence in his cabin; and the sailor that waited upon him toldhis shipmates that it was a pity his honour had chosen the sea for agrave, for unless he changed he would, in his honest opinion, die beforethey were far out of the bay. "Tell him so, Ben, for you know it ain'tlucky to have a death on board," said one of the sailors. However, Bensaid nothing to Hubert, for in his own mind he began to think that thesoldier had a sorrow, which would perhaps wear away in time; and thesailor was not wrong. It was a dark hour in Hubert's life--a weakyielding of the flesh; and who can wonder? In the short time that hadpassed since he had given up his evil ways, how much instruction andcounsel he had received from the kind friend who had brought him to thevessel; and the kind nurse, so full of sympathy towards him, knowing allabout him, had helped to buoy up his spirits when they were sinking, andby them the struggle between his old and his new nature had beenlightened. How Hubert missed those two friends now! He never thought hecould have cared for them half so much. In the gloomy thoughts that hadcome over him, he would have given much for one of them to have beennear; but he was alone, and his nature warred with his spirit, and hisbosom refused to be comforted. Many times he wished he could return toIndia, and reproached himself for having left: there, at least, therewas some one that cared for him; now, where was he? Out on the sea,without a friend; and, perhaps, in the distant land to which he wasgoing he might find himself friendless still. Friendless! the thoughtbowed him very low: but God knew the storm that was beating upon theheart of the returning wanderer, and the powerful hand of Omnipotencetempered the hurricane; for, like the distant sound of help, in the lullof the tempest, the words came suddenly into his mind--"I will neverleave thee, nor forsake thee."
"Ah!" said Hubert, starting, and pointing upwards as he spoke, "GraciousGod, I have a friend in Thee;" then, clasping his hands together, heprayed an earnest prayer that God would pardon the sin of his murmuring,help him to overcome the evil nature in his heart, and make him moreholy.
Hubert's peace of mind returned as soon as he had poured out his griefin prayer, and Ben the sailor told his shipmates that they need notfear now, for his honour had taken a turn, and was quite cheerful-like.The evening of another day was closing, and Hubert came upon deck,amongst the other passengers, to take a last look of the land where thebest years of his life had been passed, and where nearly all theremembered associations of his existence were centred.
The home of his boyhood, in that lovely English valley, had come beforehim in memory's brightest colours, as he lay sick and wounded in thehospital; and he thought of it too when he set out for England, but hecould remember nothing at all of it, as he stood by the side of thevessel, looking back upon his manhood's home--the field of his fame. Itwas true that he had there strayed further from the right path, and sunkdeeper into sin; that, if India had been the scene of his fame, it hadalso been the scene of his guilt; but then his heart whispered that itwas there too he had mourned and repented, and if a deep sigh escapedhis bosom, as he watched the last shadow of his Indian home fade fromhis view, it was because he was leaving it for ever.
Long after the last look had been taken, Hubert sat still upon deck, andwas roused from his thoughtfulness by the words--
"Will you accept my arm, Captain, to your cabin? it is getting late."
"Thank you, I had forgotten, I see it is late; I can manage pretty wellwith my crutch. But no, since you kindly offer me your arm, I willaccept it."
"Yes, do, Captain, the vessel is not over steady."
When Hubert reached his cabin, he turned his head to thank his friend,and then he saw that he was a man many years older than himself, with aclear open countenance and with hair deeply tinged with grey.
"You are welcome," said the stranger, "and I hope we shall become betteracquainted, for we have a long voyage before us, which I, like you,appear to be making alone, and pleasant society will render itcheerful--good night."
"Good night," replied Hubert; "I hope it will be as you say," and,grasping his hand, he again said, "Good night."
They were now far out at sea; the high lands of India had sunk belowthe horizon; Ceylon, with its spicy perfumes, was passed; and Adam'sPeak, the high towering sentinel of that wonderful island, had sunk alsobeneath the wave. Hubert enjoyed the sea; his health and spiritsreturned, and the time passed much more pleasantly than he hadanticipated; he found his new friend a most agreeable companion, kindand considerate towards him, and, having been a great traveller, he wasever ready and willing to amuse Hubert, not only with accounts of thecountries to which he had travelled, but also of England, which countryhe had left only five years before: he had been a wanderer all hislife--he was born upon the sea, in his father's vessel, and being earlydeprived of his mother, he and his brother became the companions of alltheir father's voyages. Born, as it were, to a wandering life, a lifewhich in after years they were in no way fitted to give up, his brothersucceeded to the command of his father's ship, while he roamed to nearlyevery part of the world, and ga
ve to society many valuable volumes ofinformation on different parts of the earth and its people.
Hubert always listened with pleasure to the conversation of his friend;still there was ever a wish in his mind that the subject would change:he longed to hear him talk of higher things than those of earth, fornever once, in all he said, did he make reference to the God ofheaven--it seemed to be the god of this world that he worshipped; andHubert sighed, as he thought that he had not proved the true friend hehad hoped to find in him.