God's Children

by Mabli Roberts

  She smiled then, nodding. ‘Well for now I have you here, on this ship, and your causes must wait. I intend making the most of our time!’

  After the maid had set down the tea tray, Reverend Francis closed the door to his study and came to sit opposite me. It was, I remember thinking at the time, a typically masculine room, devoid of the touch of a woman’s hand, with somewhat heavy, workaday furniture, more books than the shelves could comfortably hold, and simple, somewhat frayed curtains at the long window. The main feature in the room was the handsome desk, upon which sat an inkstand and blotter, a magnifying glass, orderly piles of papers and yet more books. The reverend had offered me the only comfortable chair, covered in green velvet, which was next to a low occasional table. As he took his seat on the other side of it I noticed he did not meet my eye. Reverend Francis and I had known each other for some time, and our meetings had always been cordial, our shared enthusiasm for the building of the leper hospital giving us common ground and an identical cherished goal. On this occasion, however, I felt him to be unusually reserved and distant. I was at a loss to understand this change in his demeanour in my presence, but I was soon to discover the reason behind it.

  He spoke as he poured the tea. ‘It was good of you to find time in your busy schedule to come and see me, Sister Marsden.’

  ‘I am always happy to be available, Father. You have done so much for the Leper’s Association since its coming into being. I will be forever grateful for your hard work and support.’ I took the proffered tea cup from him.

  ‘As you know, I have always been an admirer of your work, Sister Marsden. The hardships you endured, and the sacrifices you have made, in order to carry out your mission… Well, I am humbled by your commitment.’

  ‘Like you, I am God’s instrument, Father. I do his bidding, and I am glad to do it.’

  ‘Quite so.’ He sipped his tea for a moment and then cleared his throat. ‘In my capacity as treasurer of the fundraising committee, it is my duty to maintain clear and accurate accounts of all monies that are donated or otherwise raised.’

  ‘Such as the royalties from my book sales.’

  ‘Indeed. You will understand, I’m sure, the need for the Association to be always transparent in its financial dealings, and to remain beyond reproach as regards to payments and expenses necessarily given out to those who do work on its behalf.’

  ‘Of course. Which is why you are such a boon to our organisation, Father, for who better to uphold the virtues of truthfulness? No one, surely, could ever question your integrity or honesty in handling the Association’s funds.’

  ‘Perhaps not, or at least, one would hope not. In this instance, however, it is not my own character that is being called into question.’

  In an effort to discern what he meant by this statement I examined the expression on the reverend’s face, but he kept his head low and his focus remained fixed upon the tea in his cup.

  ‘Are you suggesting that it is I who am under some manner of scrutiny?’ I asked.

  ‘I have been sent letters, from a journalist in New Zealand, and another in London, and still another from America.’

  ‘Journalists!’

  ‘They raise several disturbing points.’

  ‘It is surely what they are given to doing.’

  ‘There are questions being asked regarding the… thoroughness with which you declare monies raised… there are grey areas…’

  ‘What do they accuse me of, Father? I must know.’

  ‘To put it plainly, Sister Marsden, they claim that you have been keeping the greater proportion of monies raised for yourself.’

  ‘What nonsense!’

  ‘They maintain that you have been, let me see, how did they put it… yes, “living the high life” on the donations, rather than seeing that they reach the coffers of the Leper’s Association.’

  ‘Reverend Francis, you know this not to be the case.’

  ‘These are not my accusations, please understand that.’

  ‘I take only what I need for travel and accommodation, with a small allowance for my personal needs.’

  ‘It may be that this is where the criticisms are arising.’

  ‘What these journalists simply will not see, is that to raise money one must move among people who have money. There would be no earthly use my pestering the poor to donate their meagre savings, would there?’

  ‘This is true, but…’

  ‘The only manner in which sufficient funds may be raised to build the hospital is for me to approach those who have sufficient funds to give. It is for this reason that I must be suitably attired and appointed. I cannot present myself to members of the royal family in rags, nor can I expect them to attend functions in a church hall.’

  The reverend nodded his agreement. ‘It is not me who is in need of convincing. I have been involved with charitable fundraising for as many years as I have been a member of the clergy, and I assure you, I understand how these things work. There is much in what you say. However…’

  ‘However? Either you are satisfied of my innocent motives in spending a portion of the funds raised, or you are not, Father. I fail to see where there is room for a “however”.’

  ‘Firstly, as I say, it is others who appear to require some explanation of the way in which the donations are used. I believe a letter from me to The Times, perhaps backed up by another from yourself, well, that could be sufficient to pour oil on troubled waters. The second matter is of a more complicated, not to say more delicate nature.’

  Now I feared I knew too well the reason the good reverend could not meet my eye. I set down my tea cup, for already my hand had started to tremble, and I feared I would lose my composure completely at the sound of it rattling in its saucer.

  We enjoyed fair weather for the first two weeks of our voyage aboard the SS Ruapehu. However, at the beginning of the third week high winds got up. The captain was an able man, and I was confident we were never in any danger, but he could do nothing to calm the leaping and bucking of the ship, as it was at the mercy of the wild seas upon which we must travel. Many of the passengers on board suffered sea sickness, and others were fearful, so that the dining room and decks were all but deserted. Mama took to her bed, where I administered a dose of the soothing medicine given us by the ship’s physician, Dr Ballard. I watched him mix the concoction myself, and was pleased to see it contain a liberal quantity of laudanum, for I knew Mama would not sleep through the storms without it, and without sound sleep her health would surely suffer and decline again.

  Once I was satisfied that she was comfortably settled, I left her and went to Nell’s cabin. When I knocked upon her door she answered quickly, and I saw that her own face was pale.

  ‘Dear Nell,’ I said, ‘are you unwell?’

  ‘I am not, which is a mercy indeed, but oh, Kate! The ship does fling itself about so. I fear every moment that it might turn over.’

  As if to underline her point the vessel gave a mighty lurch, so that we were both forced to cling to the door jamb if we were not to be thrown to the floor. I pulled myself into the cabin and closed the door. Nell’s room was smaller than our own, with only one narrow bed, but it was cosy, and warm, and I could detect the aroma of her favourite perfume, which had violets at its heart. I placed my hands upon her shoulders.

  ‘Nell, you must not be afraid. This is as sturdy a ship as ever was, and it and its captain both have made this journey many times. What seems to us to be a tempest of unnatural strength is to sailors simply the way of the sea, and with God’s hand upon the wheel they will steer us through it. Have no fear.’

  ‘You are such a stalwart, fearless creature, Kate. You put me to shame,’ she said, her admiration obvious in her expression. ‘I wish I had half your courage.’

  ‘Let me give you mine, Nell, for I hate to see you distressed. You look so very tired and pale.’

  ‘I have not slept well these past days. I know it is silly of me, but I cannot help myself from laying th
ere, eyes wide open for fear I will end my days in that bed, alone and terrified.’

  ‘You will not,’ I told her. ‘Firstly, because Captain Watson will see to it that his ship reaches her destination with her full complement of passengers, and secondly because you will not be alone any more.’

  ‘You promise?’ she asked tearfully. ‘You will stay?’

  ‘I will stay. Now, come along. Sister Marsden prescribes good, sound sleep.’

  So saying I turned her around and began unlacing the stays at the back of her dress. The fabric was of fine quality, a closely woven wool, soft and light, which flattered her slender figure. In the flickering lamplight the colour reminded me of damsons harvested from the hedgerows in my childhood. The pitching and rolling of the ship made us both stumble now and again, so that it was a full ten minutes before we had both undressed to our shifts and climbed into the little bed together. I turned Nell towards me, letting her rest her head upon my shoulder, my arm around her, so that she was held safe and close. I stroked her silky hair much as a mother might do to soothe a fretful child, and by and by I felt her breathing grow slow and steady and knew that she had fallen into a deep and peaceful slumber.

  The greater part of my mission was, of course, to raise funds for the outcast lepers, to bring their sorry plight to the attention of the world, to rescue them from their pitiable existences in the wilderness, and to ultimately provide them with a hospital and a home that could give them their living and their dignity once more. But whilst I was about God’s work I could not help but spread His word, and to that end I had taken among my supplies as many copies of the Gospels as I could crave space for. These precious pages I determined to give to the inmates of the prisons I had been given leave to visit en route. It was no small achievement to have gained, during my time in St Petersburg and in Moscow, the necessary papers and permissions that would allow me to do this worthwhile and Christian work. For does not God care for His sinners?

  And so it was that I equipped myself with twists of tea and sugar, also, so that I might offer some solace to the unfortunates whose lives had turned from the straight and narrow and brought them to such sad circumstances. It was my fervent wish that this small gesture of kindness, given along with God’s Testament, would engender in the prisoners a kernel of hope and a desire to seek His forgiveness. At the very least I would be able to report back to the authorities after my inspection upon the conditions in which the men were kept.

  We reached the town of Kainsk, and were led to understand that there were in the vicinity some prisoners being taken on their way to a larger penal institution a fair distance away. I wished at once to visit these men, and enquired after their whereabouts, but my questions met with prevarication and avoidance. I asked at every post-station along the way, but it was some days before we caught up with them. When we did, and I asked if I might be permitted to see them, I was informed that the hour was too late, and that the prisoners were all locked up for the night. I thought of how they must be feeling after trudging through the bitter winds, no doubt poorly clad, and I could not but think how welcome hot tea would be to them after hours of such hardship. I pressed my case, and at last the person charged with their care saw that I was not to be refused.

  I was taken to the place where they were housed, which was no more than two, large, dark cells. Soldiers stood on guard with guns and bayonets. The darkness inside was so deep that at first I could see very little at all, though I could hear all too well the rattle of chains and shackles. The guards shouted at the prisoners to have a care, for a visitor was moving among them. I felt the presence of human beings all around me, though I could scarce make them out. There were ninety, at least, crammed into the space, with no window to allow clean air in nor foul out. A prisoner with a candle stump was sent to lead me, sideways, due to lack of room, between the men packed upon the floor, their beds merely a few raised boards.

  I was stared at, of course, many showing their astonishment at discovering a lone woman walking amongst them in the dead of night. They thrust their hands out to me and I thought they might try to kill me, but no! It was the Gospels they yearned for, and I gave them happily, along with the meagre packets of tea. I made my stumbling progress through the rooms, and rather than do me harm they blessed me for the little gifts of comfort that I brought them. At one point I tripped, falling clumsily over a wretch whose spine was curved and twisted. How gently I was helped to my feet! The rough hands of the men were as tender as a woman’s. After an hour or so I was fatigued to the point of collapse, and the foulness of the air was starting to rob me of my senses.

  I bid them good night, and as I went the clanking of their leg irons sounded in the darkness. Yet even so, they shouted their thanks after me. The doors were bolted, the padlocks fixed, and those ninety men were lost to all life’s joys. I prayed to God to show them mercy, and that the Gospels would help those sin-laden men turn to Him.

  I wanted to rest, but sleep was hard to find, and when at last I caught it up, my dreams were peopled with lost souls, and the chains they wore rang through my mind for the entire night.

  I smiled at Nell. ‘What a spinsterish pair we are, wrapped up in our knee rugs.’

  This made her laugh. ‘Whatever you may be described as, I defy anyone to call you “spinster”!’

  The ship was sailing directly west that day, and the late afternoon sun was cheerful enough to entice us onto the deck to sit, though the air was rather fresh. Other passengers strolled arm in arm, some chose deckchairs in which to sit and read or chat. A game of deck quoits was being got up, and all about us there was generally an air of cheerful relaxation, the kind which often follows a storm at sea. We were alive. The SS Ruapehu had steamed steadily through. God and our good captain had seen us safely delivered to another day, and this was to be quietly celebrated.

  ‘Is your mother better this morning?’ Nell asked.

  ‘Considerably, though I doubt she will leave her cabin for a while yet. The voyage is a trial for her.’ I did not add, though I knew Nell thought it too, that at least this gave us time to be together without her disapproving eye upon us. Our friendship had deepened in the short time we had been at sea, and I was glad of it. Nell was not Rose. She would never be Rose. But her affection for me was genuine and it moved me. That she had come to feel for me as she did no doubt still astonished her, but I believe it no longer shocked her. She had emerged from the lonely solitude of widowhood into something thrilling and new, and the power of it had made her almost reckless with her reputation. I knew I could not afford to be careless, for much depended upon my being able to win over people of fortune and influence to my cause. Nell knew this too, and I knew that she understood my calling.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes, the sunshine bathing her fine features. ‘I am sorry your mother is not enjoying her time aboard our dear little ship,’ she said, ‘but for my part I wish we could sail around and around the world without stopping, and be together as we are now. Always.’

  I reached over and took her hand in mine. ‘How lovely that would be,’ I agreed. ‘Perhaps one day, when I have achieved my goal, we will be free to take a cruise at our leisure.’

  She opened her eyes and grinned. ‘Without troubling your mama to accompany us?’

  ‘We could invite her safe in the knowledge that nothing would induce her to set foot on a ship again, not once she has reached the sanctuary of England.’

  Nell sat up, serious now. ‘And once there I will lose you to your work, will I not?’

  ‘Not lose me, no.’

  ‘No? But you must be forever knocking on the doors of those who might help. Petitioning and pleading, raising funds where you can. It will take up all your time. And I…’

  ‘And you will accompany me, as my aide, as my indispensable companion. Besides, it need not be a dreary time. Would not a visit to Paris cheer you?’ There. It was said.

  ‘Paris?’

  ‘I have heard that the great French scien
tist, Monsieur Louis Pasteur, has announced that he is close to finding a treatment, if not a cure for leprosy. Imagine, Nell! If I were to ally myself, my cause, my mission to him, well, how much easier would it then be to persuade people to support me?’

  ‘So we will go to Paris, just you and I?’

  I hesitated. ‘It would be so very helpful to me, Nell, but, alas… I fear I have offered you something that is not within my gift. By the time we are arrive in London my money will be all but used up. And I must see Mama comfortably settled. No, it is a fond dream, but you are right, I shall have to concentrate my efforts in London.’

  ‘But I can pay! Oh, Kate, do let me. You know how I want nothing more than to support you, to see you succeed.’

  ‘But my vocation is not yours, dear Nell. It would not be fair of me to expect…’

  ‘Please, allow me to do this. Allow me to help in the way that I can, for I am no nurse, no adventurous traveller. Let me be a part of what is so dear to your heart. And we shall be in Paris together!’

  ‘Well, naturally, I should love nothing better than to walk beside the Seine with you, to visit Notre-Dame, for us to see all the wonders of that romantic city… But much of my time would still be taken up with appointments.’