Part 43

‘“By no means,” I answered. “I want you.”

‘“He wants us! What do you think of that, Padda?” He pulled the seal’s whiskers till it threw back its head and roared, and he pretended to interpret. “No! Padda says he won’t be baptized yet awhile. He says you’ll stay to dinner and come fishing with me tomorrow, because you’re over-worked and need a rest.”

‘“I wish you’d keep yon brute in its proper place,” I said, and Eddi, my chaplain, agreed.

‘“I do,” said Meon. “I keep him just next my heart. He can’t tell a lie, and he doesn’t know how to love any one except me. It ‘ud be the same if I were dying on a mud-bank, wouldn’t it, Padda?”

‘“Augh! Augh!” said Padda, and put up his head to be scratched.

‘Then Meon began to tease Eddi: “Padda says, if Eddi saw his Archbishop dying on a mud-bank Eddi would tuck up his gown and run. Padda knows Eddi can run too! Padda came into Wittering Church last Sunday--all wet--to hear the music, and Eddi ran out.”

‘My good Eddi rubbed his hands and his shins together, and flushed. “Padda is a child of the Devil, who is the father of lies!” he cried, and begged my pardon for having spoken. I forgave him.

‘“Yes. You are just about stupid enough for a musician,” said Meon. “But here he is. Sing a hymn to him, and see if he can stand it. You’ll find my small harp beside the fireplace.”

‘Eddi, who is really an excellent musician, played and sang for quite half an hour. Padda shuffled off his ox-hide, hunched himself on his flippers before him, and listened with his head thrown back. Yes--yess! A rather funny sight! Meon tried not to laugh, and asked Eddi if he were satisfied.

‘It takes some time to get an idea out of my good Eddi’s head. He looked at me.

‘“Do you want to sprinkle him with holy water, and see if he flies up the chimney? Why not baptize him?” said Meon.

‘Eddi was really shocked. I thought it was bad taste myself.

‘“That’s not fair,” said Meon. “You call him a demon and a familiar spirit because he loves his master and likes music, and when I offer you a chance to prove it you won’t take it. Look here! I’ll make a bargain. I’ll be baptized if you’ll baptize Padda too. He’s more of a man than most of my slaves.”

‘“One doesn’t bargain--or joke--about these matters,” I said. He was going altogether too far.

‘“Quite right,” said Meon; “I shouldn’t like any one to joke about Padda. Padda, go down to the beach and bring us tomorrow’s weather!”

‘My good Eddi must have been a little over-tired with his day’s work. “I am a servant of the church,” he cried. “My business is to save souls, not to enter into fellowships and understandings with accursed beasts.”

‘“Have it your own narrow way,” said Meon. “Padda, you needn’t go.” The old fellow flounced back to his ox-hide at once.

‘“Man could learn obedience at least from that creature,” said Eddi, a little ashamed of himself. Christians should not curse. ‘“Don’t begin to apologise Just when I am beginning to like you,” said Meon. “We’ll leave Padda behind tomorrow--out of respect to your feelings. Now let’s go to supper. We must be up early tomorrow for the whiting.”

‘The next was a beautiful crisp autumn morning--a weather-breeder, if I had taken the trouble to think; but it’s refreshing to escape from kings and converts for half a day. We three went by ourselves in Meon’s smallest boat, and we got on the whiting near an old wreck, a mile or so off shore. Meon knew the marks to a yard, and the fish were keen. Yes--yess! A perfect morning’s fishing! If a Bishop can’t be a fisherman, who can?’ He twiddled his ring again. ‘We stayed there a little too long, and while we were getting up our stone, down came the fog. After some discussion, we decided to row for the land. The ebb was just beginning to make round the point, and sent us all ways at once like a coracle.’

‘Selsey Bill,’ said Puck under his breath. ‘The tides run something furious there.’

‘I believe you,’ said the Archbishop. ‘Meon and I have spent a good many evenings arguing as to where exactly we drifted. All I know is we found ourselves in a little rocky cove that had sprung up round us out of the fog, and a swell lifted the boat on to a ledge, and she broke up beneath our feet. We had just time to shuffle through the weed before the next wave. The sea was rising. ‘“It’s rather a pity we didn’t let Padda go down to the beach last night,” said Meon. “He might have warned us this was coming.”

‘“Better fall into the hands of God than the hands of demons,” said Eddi, and his teeth chattered as he prayed. A nor’-west breeze had just got up--distinctly cool.

‘“Save what you can of the boat,” said Meon; “we may need it,” and we had to drench ourselves again, fishing out stray planks.’

‘What for?’ said Dan.

‘For firewood. We did not know when we should get off. Eddi had flint and steel, and we found dry fuel in the old gulls’ nests and lit a fire. It smoked abominably, and we guarded it with boat-planks up-ended between the rocks. One gets used to that sort of thing if one travels. Unluckily I’m not so strong as I was. I fear I must have been a trouble to my friends. It was blowing a full gale before midnight. Eddi wrung out his cloak, and tried to wrap me in it, but I ordered him on his obedience to keep it. However, he held me in his arms all the first night, and Meon begged his pardon for what he’d said the night before--about Eddi, running away if he found me on a sandbank, you remember. ‘“You are right in half your prophecy,” said Eddi. “I have tucked up my gown, at any rate.” (The wind had blown it over his head.) “Now let us thank God for His mercies.”

‘“Hum!” said Meon. “If this gale lasts, we stand a very fair chance of dying of starvation.”

‘“If it be God’s will that we survive, God will provide,” said Eddi. “At least help me to sing to Him.” The wind almost whipped the words out of his mouth, but he braced himself against a rock and sang psalms.

‘I’m glad I never concealed my opinion--from myself--that Eddi was a better man than I. Yet I have worked hard in my time--very hard! Yes--yess! So the morning and the evening were our second day on that islet. There was rain-water in the rock-pools, and, as a churchman, I knew how to fast, but I admit we were hungry. Meon fed our fire chip by chip to eke it out, and they made me sit over it, the dear fellows, when I was too weak to object. Meon held me in his arms the second night, just like a child. My good Eddi was a little out of his senses, and imagined himself teaching a York choir to sing. Even so, he was beautifully patient with them.