My First Cruise, and Other stories

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Well, Tiny the singer went sailing down the river one bright morning, on a boat loaded with wood, which in that part of the country is called lumber; his harp was on his arm, and the rest of his worldly goods upon his back.

Tiny sat upon the top of the lumber, the most valuable part of the ship’s load by far, though the seamen and the owner of the lumber thought him only a silly country lad, who was going down to the city, probably on a foolish errand. And Tiny looked at the banks of the river, right and left, as they floated down it, and thought of all the songs he would sing.

All the first day it was of the poor he would help, of the desolate hearts he would cheer, of the weary lives he would encourage, that he thought; the world that had need of him should never find him hard of hearing when it called to him for help. And much he wondered—the poet Tiny sailing down the river towards the world, how it happened that the world with all its mighty riches, and its hosts on hosts of helpers, should ever stand in need of him! But though he wondered, his joy was none the less that it had happened so. On the first night he dreamed of pale faces growing rosy, and sad hearts becoming lighter, and weary hands strengthened, all by his own efforts. The world that had need of him felt itself better off on account of his labours!

But on the second day of Tiny’s journey other thoughts began to mingle with these. About his father and mother he thought, not in such a way as they would have been glad to know, but proudly and loftily! What could he do for them? Bring home a name that the world never mentioned except with praises and a blessing! And that thought made his cheek glow and his eyes flash, and at night he dreamed of a trumpeter shouting his name abroad, and going up the river to tell old Josiah how famous his boy had become in the earth!

And the third day he dreamed, with his eyes wide open, the livelong day, of the Beautiful Gate, and the palace of Fame and Wealth to which it led! and he saw himself entering therein, and the multitude following him. He ate upon a throne, and wise men came with gifts, and offered them to him. Alas, poor Tiny! the world had already too many helpers thinking just such thoughts—it had need of no more coming with such offerings as these. Would no one tell him so? Would no one tell him that the new song to be sung unto our Lord was very different from this?

At the end of the third day, Tiny’s journey was ended... And he was landed in the world... Slowly the ship came sailing into harbour, and took its place among a thousand other ships, and Tiny went ashore.

It was about sunset that Tiny found himself in the street of the great city. The workmen were going home from their labour, he thought at first; but could it be a city full of workmen? he asked himself as the crowd passed by him and he stood gazing on the poor. For he saw only the poor: now and then something dazzling and splendid went past, but if he turned again to discover what it was that made his eyes ache so with the brightness, the strange sight was lost in the crowd, and all he could see were pale faces, and hungry voices, and the half-clad forms of men, and women, and children. And then he said to himself with a groan, “The city is full of beggars.”

As he said that, another thought occurred to Tiny, and he unfastened his harp, and touched the strings. But in the din and roar of the city wagons, and in the confusion of voices, for every one seemed to be talking at the top of his voice, what chance had that harp-player of being heard? Still, though the crowd brushed past him as if there was no sound whatever in the harp strings, and no power at all in the hand that struck them, Tiny kept on playing, and presently he began to sing.

It was that they wanted—the living human voice, that trembled and grew strong again, that was sorrowful and joyous, that prayed and wept, and gave thanks, just as the human heart does! It was that the people wanted; and so well did they know their want that the moment Tiny began to sing, the crowd going past him, heard his voice. And the people gathered round him, and more than one said to himself with joy, “Our brother has come at last!”

They gathered around him—the poor, and lame, and sick, and blind; ragged children, weary men, desponding women, whose want and sorrow spoke from every look, and word, and dress. Closely they crowded around him; and angry voices were hushed, and troubled hearts for the moment forgot their trouble, and the weary forgot that another day of toil was before them. The pale woman nearest Tiny who held the little baby in her arms, felt its limbs growing colder and colder, and once she looked under her shawl and quickly laid her hand upon her darling’s heart, but though she knew then that the child was dead, still she stood there smiling, and looking up towards heaven where Tiny’s eyes so often looked, because at that very moment he was singing of the Father in Heaven, whose house of many mansions is large enough for all the world.