The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 21Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 21
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century
He turned about, and I thought he started to behold us. At this my
courage instantly revived, and I called and signed to him to draw near,
and he, on his part, dropped immediately to the sands, and began slowly
to approach, with many stops and hesitations. At each repeated mark of
the man's uneasiness I grew the more confident myself; and I advanced
another step, encouraging him as I did so with my head and hand. It was
plain the castaway had heard indifferent accounts of our island
hospitality; and indeed, about this time, the people farther north had a
sorry reputation.
"Why," I said, "the man is black!"
And just at that moment, in a voice that I could scarce have recognised,
my kinsman began swearing and praying in a mingled stream. I looked at
him; he had fallen on his knees, his face was agonised; at each step of
the castaway's the pitch of his voice rose, the volubility of his
utterance and the fervour of his language redoubled. I call it prayer,
for it was addressed to God; but surely no such ranting incongruities
were ever before addressed to the Creator by a creature: surely if
prayer can be a sin, this mad harangue was sinful. I ran to my kinsman,
I seized him by the shoulders, I dragged him to his feet.
"Silence, man," said I, "respect your God in words, if not in action.
Here, on the very scene of your transgressions, He sends you an occasion
of atonement. Forward and embrace it: welcome like a father yon
creature who comes trembling to your mercy."
With that, I tried to force him towards the black; but he felled me to
the ground, burst from my grasp, leaving the shoulder of his jacket, and
fled up the hillside towards the top of Aros like a deer. I staggered to
my feet again, bruised and somewhat stunned; the negro had paused in
surprise, perhaps in terror, some half-way between me and the wreck; my
uncle was already far away, bounding from rock to rock; and I thus found
myself torn for a time between two duties. But I judged, and I pray
Heaven that I judged rightly, in favour of the poor wretch upon the
sands; his misfortune was at least not plainly of his own creation; it
was one, besides, that I could certainly relieve; and I had begun by
that time to regard my uncle as an incurable and dismal lunatic. I
advanced accordingly towards the black, who now awaited my approach with
folded arms, like one prepared for either destiny. As I came nearer, he
reached forth his hand with a great gesture, such as I had seen from the
pulpit, and spoke to me in something of a pulpit voice, but not a word
was comprehensible. I tried him first in English, then in Gaelic, both
in vain; so that it was clear we must rely upon the tongue of looks and
gestures. Thereupon I signed to him to follow me, which he did readily
and with a grave obeisance like a fallen king; all the while there had
come no shade of alteration in his face, neither of anxiety while he was
still waiting, nor of relief now that he was reassured; if he were a
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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