He went immediately to his uncle’s room, who took from under his pillow a much handled letter, and handing it to him, said:
“You must find David for his mother, we have never heard a word from our boy since Daniel Clark sent this letter to me; and it only tells why he was made a prisoner and taken aboard a Spanish frigate which the next morning sailed for Spain. I am sure he is not dead because several times I have seemed to see him; and tonight saw him very distinctly for the first time. I believe he would have spoken and told me how to find him had not the pain [pg 262] in my heart awakened me. He was walking in a desert land beside a large white camel, heavily loaded with merchandise and with him were some half-wild men with long muskets guarding a train or caravan of camels. He is very far from here and in a strange way I am informed that neither his mother nor I will see him again, but you will. He will grow happy in that distant land, make it his home and rear a family. I have told his mother what I have dreamed; and she says, she too knows he is not dead. Since the receipt of the letter all we have ever learned is that the ship which sailed for Spain was wrecked on the shore of northwest Africa, a hundred miles south of Gibraltar; that a part of the crew were picked up in a boat at sea; part were drowned and a few reached the shore, where they were taken prisoners and supposedly sold as slaves. I believe this is David’s fate and you must find out.
“Raise me up a bit; that is better; my heart feels as though it were being torn in two—how I wish I might see the face of my boy. Give me your hand, little David, and you too, Annie. It grows dark. Is the candle burning or has the wind blown it out?”
How quiet the house was the day after the burial; it seemed the soul of the place was dead. John went to his room and thinking of David was reminded of the letter Mr. Clark had given him. It was near night; and lighting a tallow candle he read the copy of the letter General Wilkinson had sent by him to Governor Miro, requesting that the bearer should be held a prisoner. It was the letter he had promised Wilkinson to deliver in person.
Slowly it dawned upon him that whatever might be David’s fate, whatever David might now be suffering, if alive, it was vicarious, a voluntary substitution for him, [pg 263] as the sufferer had hid his identity to shield a friend, to give him the opportunity to escape—and he had supposed that David was under a cloud and afraid or ashamed to return home.
Then he saw red with resentment against Wilkinson, the traitor, the conspirator. He wished that he might lay his hands upon him and rend him limb from limb. His soul was torn with the thought that David had done all this for him, perhaps submitted voluntarily to the supreme sacrifice, laid down his life for a friend. He suffered as only twice before he had done; once when a boy of fifteen, sitting on the pinnacle overlooking Jackson River Valley, he had suddenly appreciated and was overwhelmed by the sacrifice that Christ had made for him; and again when he had seen Dorothy swimming to escape from the Indians.
He prayed throughout the night. When morning came, before the sun was up, he was at the home of Father Rice; and giving him the letter told all that was necessary to make it understood.
“Father Rice, there is only one thing for me to do; find David and bring him home to his mother. What Uncle David and Aunt Mary must have suffered every time they saw me!”
“I doubt that, in fact I would advise against you undertaking such a thing, had you not promised Mr. Clark to do so. A promise given to one now dead is certainly as binding as one made to the living. I believe that God disclosed to Mr. Clark that his son lived and had been given work to do. You are bound to conclude that if David cannot come home you cannot go to him. I think it your duty to find out if he is yet alive and if so his whereabouts. Then if necessary the government must be appealed to to procure his release. You must remember [pg 264] you are not your own master. You are the Lord’s servant; and having put your hand to the plow you cannot turn back. This may be one of your crosses, to believe that your friend is suffering for you. If by the providence of God he has been transplanted for particular service, he must follow, as you must follow your predestined work, even though you should be called upon to leave the side of Dorothy. The destiny of David, as your own, is in the hand of the Lord and if it is His plan that David shall live and return to his own country and people he will. However, we must do for ourselves and our friends all things possible. The Lord when he fed the thousands made use of the boy’s loaves and fishes.
“I would advise that you go to New Orleans and make inquiry for David; but do not disclose your identity to the Spanish Governor or tell any one except Mrs. Clark your destination. Go at once so as to return the more quickly to your work. Robert Marshall, though not yet ordained, will be given your district until your return and will bear letters and messages to your wife.”