The Hot Swamp

by R. M. Ballantyne

Poor Hudibras fell into a chair, and covered his face with both hands, while the doctor quietly retired.

It is impossible to describe the consternation that ensued when the terrible fact was made known. Of course the news spread into the town, and the alarm became general, for at various times the Phoenician mariners had entertained the islanders with graphic descriptions of the horrors connected with this loathsome disease, and it soon became evident, that even if the king and his family were willing to run the risk of infection by keeping Bladud near them, his people and warriors would insist on the banishment of the smitten man.

To Bladud himself the blow was almost overwhelming—almost, but not quite, for the youth was possessed of that unselfish, self-sacrificing spirit which, in all ages of the world’s history, has bid defiance to misfortune, by bowing the head in humble submission to the will of God. He knew well the nature of the dread disease by which he had been attacked, and he shuddered at the thought that, however long he might be spared to live, it would sap his strength, disfigure his person, and ultimately render his face hideous to look upon, while a life of absolute solitude must from that day forward be his portion. No wonder that in the first rush of his dismay, he entertained a wild thought of putting an end to his own existence. There was only one gleam of comfort to him, and that was, the recollection that he had caught the disease in a good cause—in the rescue of a poor old woman from destruction. The comfort of the thought was not indeed great, still it was something in the awful desolation that overwhelmed him at the time.

While travelling in the East, a short time previous to setting sail for home, he had come across an old woman who was being chased by a wild bull. Her flight would have been short-lived in any case, for there chanced to be a steep precipice not far from her, towards which she ran in her terror and scrambled hastily down until she reached a spot where she could go no further without losing her foothold. To the rock she clung and screamed in her despair.

It was her screams that first attracted Bladud’s attention. Rushing forward, he was just in time to see the bull—which could not check its mad career—plunge over the cliff, at the bottom of which it was killed by the fall.

Bladud at once began to descend to the help of the poor woman. As he did so, the words “unclean! unclean!” met his ear. The woman was a leper, and, even in her dire extremity, the force of habit caused her to give the usual warning which the Eastern law requires. A shudder passed through the prince’s frame, for he knew well the meaning of the cry—but as he looked down and saw the disfigured face and the appealing eyes turned towards him, a gush of intense pity, and of that disregard of self which is more or less characteristic of all noble natures, induced him to continue his descent until he reached the poor creature. Grasping her tightly round the waist, he assisted her up the perilous ascent, and finally placed her in safety at the top of the cliff.

For a time Bladud felt some anxiety as to the result of the risk he had run, but did not mention his adventure to any one. Gradually the fear wore off, and at length that feeling of invulnerability which is so strong in youth, induced him to dismiss the subject from his thoughts altogether. He had quite forgotten it until the doctor’s statement fell upon him with the stunning violence of a thunder-clap.

It is usually when deep sorrows and great difficulties are sent to them, that men and women find out the quality of their natures. Despair, followed by listless apathy, might well have seized on one who, a few days before, possessed all the advantages of great physical strength and manly beauty, with what appeared to be sound health and a bright life before him. But, instead of giving way, he silently braced himself for a lifelong conflict. He did not turn, in his extremity, to the gods of his fathers—whatever these might be—for he did not believe in them, but he did believe in one good supreme Being. To Him he raised his heart, offered an unspoken prayer, and felt comforted as well as strengthened in the act.

Then, being a man of prompt action, he thoughtfully but quickly formed his plans, having previously made fast his door—for well he knew that although his strong-minded father might keep him at arm’s-length, his loving mother and sister would not only come to talk with him, but would, despite all risks, insist on embracing him.

That he was not far wrong was proved the same evening, for when the king revealed the terrible news to his wife and daughter, they went straight to Bladud’s door and knocked for admission.