Читать книгу Bolanyo - Opie Percival Read - Страница 10

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I remember to have struggled, and to have been tumbled over and over by the current. I might have caught at a straw, but no array of sins came up for review, though there were enough of them scattered between my cradle bed and the bed of this engulfing river. But I thought of many a foolish thing, a pair of red-top boots, a whistle made of willow, a 'coon skin tacked against the wall of a negro's cabin; but I do not remember being taken out of the water, so I must have endured all the popular agonies of drowning. I have a faint recollection of being borne along at full length, of seeing lights and of hearing voices. Sometimes the voices were close and loud in my ears, and again they were far away. Struggling reason sank once more, an obliterating darkness fell; and when, after a long time, the light returned, I realized that I was in a room, lying on a bed. My nostrils were filled with the pungent scent of liniments. A tight bandage was about my head; and a heavy sense of soreness told me that my right side was crushed. I thought to say something, but the pungent odor grew stronger in my nostrils, and I sank to sleep. When I awoke again the day was broad. And never before had I realized what broad day meant; it was the opposite of the sharp and narrow lights that had shot out of the thick darkness enshrouding my mind. Everything was clear to me now. The explosion had occurred at the moment when the pilot took my hand. But was I now on board another steamer? No, my apartment was too spacious and too stately. There were pictures on the walls, and on the mantel stood a marble statuette—the Diver. Undoubtedly I had been brought into a private house, for no hospital would offer such luxury to a stranger. I heard footsteps and voices. The door was carefully opened and two men entered the room. Upon seeing my eyes turned toward them they advanced cheerfully. I tried to say good morning, but the words stuck in my throat. One of the men placed his fingers on my wrist and asked me how I felt. This time my effort at speech was more of a success, and I managed to tell him that I was beginning to feel very well, that I was thankful for the light, and that I hoped he would not administer any more of that stifling liniment.

"The ether," he said, speaking to his companion; and then to me he added, "No, you won't need any more of that. Well," he continued, turning again to his companion, "he's doing first rate. I'll be around again about eleven o'clock."

A sudden alarm came upon me. "Let me ask you a question," I cried as he turned to leave. "Haven't you cut off one of my legs?"

"No, sir-ree," he good-humoredly laughed.

"But I want you to be sure about it," I persisted. "Just this minute I tried to find them both but couldn't."

"Here, doctor," said the other man, "show him that his legs are all right. Don't leave him in this fix."

"Yes, of course," said the doctor, and lifting the cover he proved that I had not been robbed by the surgeon's knife. "Got both arms, too, you see."

"But I'm pretty badly hurt."

"Well, the blow-up didn't do you any particular good, but you are coming along all right. All we've got to guard against now is a rise in temperature, and there'll be no danger of that if you keep quiet."

"But the other members of the company. Tell me about them."

"They're all right—the most of them. You shall have all the details in due time, but now you must keep quiet."

They went out, closing the door softly, and I dozed off to sleep; and when I awoke I was thankful to find that the day was still broad. I was conscious that someone was in the room, and, slightly turning, I beheld an enormous negro, standing in the middle of the floor, looking at me.

"You have had a good sleep, Sir," he said, "and I have waited for you to awake so that I could give you some refreshment."

He spoke with a precision that was almost painful, as if he were translating a sentence from a dead language, and my look must have betrayed my astonishment, for his thick lips parted in a smile, broad, but sedate. He appeared to be pleased at my surprise, and, smiling again, he bowed and quitted the room, but soon returned with a tray which he placed on a chair near the bed.

"Here is something which the physician has pronounced good for you to eat," he said, "but don't try to sit up. Here, let me get my arm under you, this way. Now we have it."

"Take it away, I'm not hungry," I said, after finding the position too painful to endure. He eased me down, put the chair back and stood looking at me.

"Won't you sit down?"

"No, I thank you, Sir."

"But it makes me tired to see you stand."

"Then, Sir, I will sit down." He brought another chair, and, seating himself, he turned his searching eyes upon me. He was so enormous and he towered so, even after sitting down, that he inspired a feeling of creepy dread, his eyes so black and his smile so grave; and I was sure that in his presence the day could not long continue to be broad; indeed, I could see that the light at the window was slowly fading.

"I asked them if I might come and nurse you," he said. "There were other stricken ones that I might have nursed, but I heard that you were an actor, and then I knew where my duty lay."

"I am thankful for your partiality to my profession, at any rate," I replied.

He smiled, and his great teeth gleamed in the fading light. "I was not influenced by the partiality of the flesh, but by the duty laid upon the spirit. Most anyone could nurse your body, but I begged the privilege of nursing your soul as well."

"Ah, and you think an actor's soul is in especial need of nursing?"

"With your permission we will leave that for some future converse. I have been enjoined not to engage you in a talk that might bring weariness upon you. For a few nights to come there may be danger, and until that time is—is—shall have been passed, I will sit with you."

"But who are you?" I inquired.

"I am the humblest servant of the church wherein I preach the gospel that sinners may be brought to repentance; and my name is Washington Smith. But I must talk no more, and you must keep quiet."

"But where am I? Tell me that."

"You are in good hands, and the Lord and his servants are watching over you. But I must request you not to speak again to-night."

He took up the tray and went out, and when he returned he sat down, though not upon a chair, but upon the floor, with his back against the wall.