Thompson searched about the room, and at length found little Tom fast asleep under a table, with his innocent face pillowed upon his dead father's jacket.
The gentle-mannered physician touched the child lightly, saying, "Poor baby, he knows nothing of his great loss;" then, having advised the old fisherman to look after his wife, and directed Thompson not to disturb the body until the inquest should be held, took his departure.
After a time the broken-hearted old woman returned, and taking the child in her arms, retired to rest. Thompson remained by the body of his friend all night, and as the clock ticked off the moments, could scarcely credit it was not all a dream.
"Poor old chap!" he murmured, passing his hand across Clare's brow. "Poor heart, so you saw her spirit arter all. Well, I can't understand it; it's beyond me, but it may have been so. If you can hear me, old shipmate and brave heart, hear me say I'll never let your little chap want as long as God gives me health and strength;" and having uttered these words, the kind-hearted sailor sat down beside the couch, and placing his hands to his face, the man who had seen death gather many friends before, wept like a woman.
There lay poor Tom, with the portrait of his loved wife tightly clutched in his hand. True to her in life, and true in death; and the wording of the telegram he had penned that morning, which now lay open upon a table near, seemed prophetic—"I will be with you, my dear, to-night." We may hope he was with her, in a world of which we can have no conception until our eyes are opened by the angel of death.
In the morning little Tom crept into the room, and with awe upon his face asked to "see his dear daddy."
Jerry, unable to refuse the child's request, uncovered the calm face, which the little one gazed upon with a sorrowful expression. Taking the poor orphan in his arms Thompson carried him from the room, and leaving the child with a neighbour, walked along the breezy downs to get rid of some of his miserable thoughts.
"What is life?" he mused. "Here to-day and then gone, and nobody knows that so insignificant a creature ever troubled the earth. What have we to live for? Another world? Yes, that must be it. We ain't created for nothing; the God who made us has power to do everything. I'll try and do better in future, and be more kinder to others, and less selfish. This death of Tom has made me think. We've all got our duty to do in this world, like we have got to do it in a man-of-war, and according as we does it so we gets our reward."
Thus mused the sailor, who had probably seldom before given his future a thought. Death made him think, as it does most of us, and the kind-hearted fellow, in his desire to do better for the future, imagined he was one of the most miserable sinners in existence. It is thus with all men; when the "dark shadow" envelopes their acquaintances, they cry "mea culpa," and vow to be very good; but it requires something more than human philosophy to keep them in remembrance of their vows.
The inquest was held that day, and, in accordance with the custom in that part of the country, the jurors returned a verdict, that Clare "Died from the visitation of God."