Guided by the book of instructions attached to the medicine-chest, I did the best I could for the injured man; but his wounds were of so ghastly a nature, and his suffering so acute, that I recognised from the very outset, not only that it was impossible he should recover, but that death must ensue in a very few hours. And it was dreadful to sit there by his side, listening to his moans, liberally interspersed with curses of the leopard, of me, and not infrequently of mankind in general, and to reflect that that flood of blasphemy was issuing from the lips of a man hovering on the brink of eternity! At length I could endure it no longer, and I said to him, rather sharply, I am afraid:
“Stop that blasphemy, Svorenssen, for pity’s sake, and rather turn your thoughts to prayer—if you know how to pray. I fear that your life has been a deplorably misspent one, and it can last but a few hours longer. Before to-morrow’s sun sets you will be face to face with God! Therefore I urge you to devote the few remaining hours at your disposal to making your peace with Him, instead of cursing those who have never knowingly wronged you.”
“What—d’ye—mean?” he gaspingly demanded. “I—ain’t goin’—to—die—am I?”
“Yes,” I said, “you are; and it is well that you should know it. Therefore, forget all your wrongs, real or imaginary, and—”
But here I was interrupted by an outburst of such vile and savage profanity that it literally rendered me speechless. It lasted, I suppose, fully ten minutes, and left its utterer gasping and in a state of collapse. I administered stimulant, and at length the colour came slowly back to the sufferer’s cheeks and lips, and he opened his eyes. For several minutes he lay there gazing up at me steadfastly, questioningly; then he muttered:
“Thank ’e, Mister. If it hadn’t been for you I’d have slipped my cable that time. And so you think I’m goin’ to die? Well, I’m beginnin’ to think so myself now. My God! it’s awful to think that a few hours more and I shall be face to face with my Maker, and bein’ called to account for a whole lifetime of wickedness. And there’s no way out!”
“Oh, but there is,” I said eagerly, and thereupon I began to expound, with all the earnestness at my command, and as lucidly as I could, the wonderful story of man’s redemption. I got my Bible and read passage after passage suited to the dying man’s needs, until the expression of terror and anxiety gradually faded from his features, and ultimately his eyes closed and he seemed to fall asleep. Then the day dawned and Billy, entering softly, took my place as watcher while I snatched a brief hour or two of sleep on his bed.
I was aroused by the clatter of crockery in the living-room, where the native women were making ready to serve breakfast—for even when the shadow of Death hovers over a house its inmates must needs eat and drink; and then one of the natives who every day came over to help with the work on the cutter, brought the news that the sailing boat had disappeared, the inference being that Van Ryn had taken her. Nevertheless, I gave orders that Eden should be thoroughly searched for him; but he was never found, nor was the boat, and that was the end of him so far as we were concerned, for we never again heard of him.
When breakfast was ready I tiptoed to the door of my bedroom and beckoned Billy, who crept softly out, closing the door behind him.
“He is asleep again now,” the boy whispered; “but he is dying in peace; and he wants to see you, Mr Blackburn, before he passes away, that he may repeat to you the terrible confession that he has made to me.”