Louis Becke - Rídan The Devil And Other Stories стр 4.

So three or four of them, still laughing boisterously, left the table to look for my mother, whom they found sitting on the latticed-in verandah, which on hot summer days was used as a drawing-room. She, too, laughed heartily at the sketch, and said twas wonderfully drawn, and then my brother Harry asked Mr Moore to give it to him. This the young lieutenant did, though my mother begged him to destroy it, lest Mr Sampson should hear of the matter and take offence. But my brother promised her not to let it go out of his keeping, and there the thing endedso we thought.

Yet, in some way, my mothers convict and free servants came to hear of the picturethey had already bandied about the parsons nicknameand every one of them, on some cunning excuse, had come to my brothers room and laughed at the drawing; and very often when they saw the clergyman riding past the house, attended by his convict orderly, they would say, with an added curse, There goes Diabolical Howl, for they all hated the man, because, being a magistrate as well as a minister, he had sentenced many a prisoner to a dreadful flogging and had watched it being administered.

But perhaps it was not altogether on account of the floggings in which he so believed for which he was so detestedfor floggings were common enough for even small breaches of the regulations of the Systembut for the spiritual admonition with which he dosed them afterwards, while their backs were still black and bloody from the cat. Once, when an old convict named Callaghan was detected stealing some sugar belonging to one of the pilot boats crew, my mother went to Dr Parsons, who, with the Reverend Mr Sampson, was to hear the charge against Callaghan on the following morning, and begged him not to have the man flogged; and Tom King, the man from whom the sugar was stolen, went with her and joined his pleadings to hers.

Now, come, doctor, said my mother, placing her hand on the old officers arm and smiling into his face, you must grant me this favour. The man is far too old to be flogged. And then he was a soldier himself oncehe was a drummer boy, so he once told me, in the 4th Buffs.

The most rascally regiment in the service, madam. Every one of them deserved hanging. But, and here his tone changed from good-humoured banter into sincerity, I honour you, Mrs Egerton, for your humanity. The man is over sixty, and I promise you that he shall not be flogged. Why, he is scarce recovered yet from the punishment inflicted on him for stealing Major Inness goose. But yet he is a terrible old rascal.

Never mind that, said my mother, laughing. Major Innes should keep his geese from straying about at night-time. And then, doctor, you must remember that poor Callaghan said that he mistook the bird for a pelicanit being dark when he killed it.

Ha, ha, laughed the doctor, and no doubt Mr Patrick Callaghan only discovered his mistake when he was cooking his pelican, and noticed its remarkably short bill.

My mother left, well pleased, but on the following morning, while we were at our mid-day meal, she was much distressed to hear that old Callaghan had received fifty lashes after allthe good doctor had been thrown from his horse and so much hurt that he was unable to attend the court, and another magistratea creature of Mr Sampsonshad taken his place. The news was brought to us by Thomas King, and my mothers pale face flushed with anger as, bidding King to go into the kitchen and get some dinner, she turned to my father (who took but little heed of such a simple thing as the flogging of a convict), and said hotly,

Tis shameful that such cruelty can be perpetrated! I shall write to the Governor himselfhe is a just and humane manoh, it is wicked, wicked, and then she covered her face with her hands and sobbed aloud.

My father was silent. He detested the parson most heartily, but was too cautious a man, in regard to his own interest, to give open expression to his opinions, so beyond muttering something to my brother Harry about Thomas King having no business to distress her, he was about to rise from the table, when a servant announced that the Reverend Mr Sampson wished to see him.

The mention of the clergymans name seemed to transform my mother into another woman. Quickly, but gently, putting aside my sister Frances, whose loving arms were clasped around her waist, she rose, and fire flashed in her eyes as she said to the servant,

Denham, tell Mr Sampson that I desire to speak with him as soon as he has finished his business with Mr Egerton.

My father went out to the drawing-room, where the clergyman awaited him, and for the next ten minutes or so my mother walked quickly to and fro in the dining-room, bidding us remain seated, and in a harsh, unnatural tone to one so sweet and gentle, she told the servants who waited to withdraw.

Mr Sampson is at your service, madam, said Denham, opening the door.

Show him in here, said my mother, sharply, and her always pale face grew paler still.

The clergyman entered, and extended his fat, white hand to her; she drew back and bowed coldly.

I do not desire to shake hands with you, sir.

Mr Sampsons red face flushed purple.

I do not understand you, madam. Is this a jestor do you forget who I am?

I shall try to make you understand me, Mr Sampson, in as few words as possible. I do not jest, and I do not forget who you are. I have a request to make.

Indeed! I feel honoured, madam, and the corners of the clergymans thick lips turned contemptuously downand that is?

That you will cease your visits to this house. It would be painful indeed to me to receive you as a guest from this time forth, for this very day it is my intention to write to the Governor and acquaint him with the shocking act of cruelty committed this morningtwas a shameful, cruel deed to flog an old man so cruelly.

Mr Sampsons face was now livid with the rage he could not suppress.

Beware, madam, of what you say or do. Tis a pretty example you set your children to thus insult a clergyman.

My mothers answer cut like a whip-lash. A clergyman such as you, Mr Sampson, can inspire naught in their childish minds but fear and abhorrence, and then she pulled the bell cord so violently that not only Denham but my father entered as well.

Show Mr Sampson out, she said in accents of mingled anger and scorn, and then turning to the window nearest, she seemed to be gazing unconcernedly upon the blue expanse of ocean before her; but her little hands were clasped tightly together, and her whole frame trembled with excitement.

As soon as the clergyman had mounted his horse and ridden off, my father returned to the dining-room.

You have made a bitter enemy of a man who can do me much harm, he began; but something in my mothers face made him cease from further reproaches, and he added lightly, that he hoped twould soon blow over.

Charles, said my mother, who was now herself again, it must not blow over. The Governor shall know of this mans doings. And never again shall I or my children enter the church when he preaches. To-night, I suppose, he will visit that wretched old manthe victim of his brutalityand administer spiritual admonition. Come, children, let us go to the beach and forget that that dreadful man has been here.

It was, I think, this practice of administering admonition to convicts after he had had them sentenced to a severe flogging that first gave my mother such an utter abhorrence of the man, together with his habit of confining his sermons to the prisoners to the one subjecttheir own criminal natures and the terrors of hell-fire everlasting. Then, too, his voice was appalling to hear, for he had a way of suddenly dropping his harsh, metallic tones, and raising his voice to a howl, like to that of a hungry dingo.4