"Eh?" said the Recording Angel.
"Next," said G.o.d, and before the Recording Angel could call the name a hairy creature in filthy rags stood upon G.o.d"s palm.
VII.
"Has G.o.d got h.e.l.l up his sleeve then?" said the little man beside me.
"_Is_ there a h.e.l.l?" I asked.
"If you notice," he said--he peered between the feet of the great angels-- "there"s no particular indication of a Celestial City."
""Ssh!" said a little woman near us, scowling. "Hear this blessed Saint!"
VIII.
"He was Lord of the Earth, but I was the prophet of the G.o.d of Heaven,"
cried the Saint, "and all the people marvelled at the sign. For I, O G.o.d, knew of the glories of thy Paradise. No pain, no hardship, gashing with knives, splinters thrust under my nails, strips of flesh flayed off, all for the glory and honour of G.o.d."
G.o.d smiled.
"And at last I went, I in my rags and sores, smelling of my holy discomforts----"
Gabriel laughed abruptly.
"And lay outside his gates, as a sign, as a wonder----"
"As a perfect nuisance," said the Recording Angel, and began to read, heedless of the fact that the saint was still speaking of the gloriously unpleasant things he had done that Paradise might be his.
And behold, in that book the record of the Saint also was a revelation, a marvel.
It seemed not ten seconds before the Saint also was rushing to and fro over the great palm of G.o.d. Not ten seconds! And at last he also shrieked beneath that pitiless and cynical exposition, and fled also, even as the Wicked Man had fled, into the shadow of the sleeve. And it was permitted us to see into the shadow of the sleeve. And the two sat side by side, stark of all delusions, in the shadow of the robe of G.o.d"s charity, like brothers.
And thither also I fled in my turn.
IX.
"And now," said G.o.d, as he shook us out of his sleeve upon the planet he had given us to live upon, the planet that whirled about green Sirius for a sun, "now that you understand me and each other a little better,...try again."
Then he and his great angels turned themselves about and suddenly had vanished...
The Throne had vanished.
All about me was a beautiful land, more beautiful than any I had ever seen before--waste, austere, and wonderful; and all about me were the enlightened souls of men in new clean bodies...
XXIII.
JIMMY GOGGLES THE G.o.d.
"It isn"t every one who"s been a G.o.d," said the sunburnt man. "But it"s happened to me--among other things."
I intimated my sense of his condescension.
"It don"t leave much for ambition, does it?" said the sunburnt man.
"I was one of those men who were saved from the _Ocean Pioneer_.
Gummy! how time flies! It"s twenty years ago. I doubt if you"ll remember anything of the _Ocean Pioneer_?"
The name was familiar, and I tried to recall when and where I had read it.
The _Ocean Pioneer_? "Something about gold dust," I said vaguely, "but the precise--"
"That"s it," he said. "In a beastly little channel she hadn"t no business in--dodging pirates. It was before they"d put the kybosh on that business.
And there"d been volcanoes or something and all the rocks was wrong.
There"s places about by Soona where you fair have to follow the rocks about to see where they"re going next. Down she went in twenty fathoms before you could have dealt for whist, with fifty thousand pounds worth of gold aboard, it was said, in one form or another."
"Survivors?"
"Three."
"I remember the case now," I said. "There was something about salvage----"
But at the word salvage the sunburnt man exploded into language so extraordinarily horrible that I stopped aghast. He came down to more ordinary swearing, and pulled himself up abruptly. "Excuse me," he said, "but--salvage!"
He leant over towards me. "I was in that job," he said. "Tried to make myself a rich man, and got made a G.o.d instead. I"ve got my feelings----
"It ain"t all jam being a G.o.d," said the sunburnt man, and for some time conversed by means of such pithy but unprogressive axioms. At last he took up his tale again.
"There was me," said the sunburnt man, "and a seaman named Jacobs, and Always, the mate of the _Ocean Pioneer_. And him it was that set the whole thing going. I remember him now, when we was in the jolly-boat, suggesting it all to our minds just by one sentence. He was a wonderful hand at suggesting things. "There was forty thousand pounds," he said, "on that ship, and it"s for me to say just where she went down." It didn"t need much brains to tumble to that. And he was the leader from the first to the last. He got hold of the Sanderses and their brig; they were brothers, and the brig was the _Pride of Banya_, and he it was bought the diving dress--a second-hand one with a compressed air apparatus instead of pumping. He"d have done the diving too, if it hadn"t made him sick going down. And the salvage people were mucking about with a chart he"d cooked up, as solemn as could be, at Starr Race, a hundred and twenty miles away.
"I can tell you we was a happy lot aboard that brig, jokes and drink and bright hopes all the time. It all seemed so neat and clean and straightforward, and what rough chaps call a "cert." And we used to speculate how the other blessed lot, the proper salvagers, who"d started two days before us, were getting on, until our sides fairly ached. We all messed together in the Sanderses" cabin--it was a curious crew, all officers and no men--and there stood the diving-dress waiting its turn.
Young Sanders was a humorous sort of chap, and there certainly was something funny in the confounded thing"s great fat head and its stare, and he made us see it too. "Jimmy Goggles," he used to call it, and talk to it like a Christian. Asked if he was married, and how Mrs. Goggles was, and all the little Goggleses. Fit to make you split. And every blessed day all of us used to drink the health of Jimmy Goggles in rum, and unscrew his eye and pour a gla.s.s of rum in him, until, instead of that nasty mackintosheriness, he smelt as nice in his inside as a cask of rum. It was jolly times we had in those days, I can tell you--little suspecting, poor chaps! what was a-coming.
"We weren"t going to throw away our chances by any blessed hurry, you know, and we spent a whole day sounding our way towards where the _Ocean Pioneer_ had gone down, right between two chunks of ropy grey rock--lava rocks that rose nearly out of the water. We had to lay off about half a mile to get a safe anchorage, and there was a thundering row who should stop on board. And there she lay just as she had gone down, so that you could see the top of the masts that was still standing perfectly distinctly. The row ended in all coming in the boat. I went down in the diving-dress on Friday morning directly it was light.
"What a surprise it was! I can see it all now quite distinctly. It was a queer-looking place, and the light was just coming. People over here think every blessed place in the tropics is a flat sh.o.r.e and palm-trees and surf, bless "em! This place, for instance, wasn"t a bit that way. Not common rocks they were, undermined by waves; but great curved banks like ironwork cinder heaps, with green slime below, and th.o.r.n.y shrubs and things just waving upon them here and there, and the water gla.s.sy calm and clear, and showing you a kind of dirty gray-black shine, with huge flaring red-brown weeds spreading motionless, and crawling and darting things going through it. And far away beyond the ditches and pools and the heaps was a forest on the mountain flank, growing again after the fires and cinder showers of the last eruption. And the other way forest, too, and a kind of broken--what is it?--amby-theatre of black and rusty cinders rising out of it all, and the sea in a kind of bay in the middle.
"The dawn, I say, was just coming, and there wasn"t much colour about things, and not a human being but ourselves anywhere in sight up or down the channel. Except the _Pride of Banya_, lying out beyond a lump of rocks towards the line of the sea.
"Not a human being in sight," he repeated, and paused.
"_I_ don"t know where they came from, not a bit. And we were feeling so safe that we were all alone that poor young Sanders was a-singing. I was in Jimmy Goggles, all except the helmet. "Easy," says Always, "there"s her mast." And after I"d had just one squint over the gunwale, I caught up the bogey, and almost tipped out as old Sanders brought the boat round.
When the windows were screwed and everything was all right, I shut the valve from the air-belt in order to help my sinking, and jumped overboard, feet foremost--for we hadn"t a ladder. I left the boat pitching, and all of them staring down into water after me, as my head sank down into the weeds and blackness that lay about the mast. I suppose n.o.body, not the most cautious chap in the world, would have bothered about a look-out at such a desolate place. It stunk of solitude.