Christ in Flanders | Page 8

so frivolous and gay, and now tormented with bitter
remorse; the old soldier covered with scars, a mutilated life the sole

reward of his unflagging loyalty and faithfulness. This veteran could
scarcely count on the morsel of bread soaked in tears to keep the life in
him, yet he was always ready to laugh, and went his way merrily,
happy when he could drown his glory in the depths of a pot of beer, or
could tell tales of the wars to the children who admired him, leaving his
future with a light heart in the hands of God. Lastly, there were the two
peasants, used to hardships and toil, labor incarnate, the labor by which
the world lives. These simple folk were indifferent to thought and its
treasures, ready to sink them all in a belief; and their faith was but so
much the more vigorous because they had never disputed about it nor
analyzed it. Such a nature is a virgin soil, conscience has not been
tampered with, feeling is deep and strong; repentance, trouble, love,
and work have developed, purified, concentrated, and increased their
force of will a hundred times, the will--the one thing in man that
resembles what learned doctors call the Soul.
The boat, guided by the well-nigh miraculous skill of the steersman,
came almost within sight of Ostend, when, not fifty paces from the
shore, she was suddenly struck by a heavy sea and capsized. The
stranger with the light about his head spoke to this little world of
drowning creatures:
"Those who have faith shall be saved; let them follow me!"
He stood upright, and walked with a firm step upon the waves. The
young mother at once took her child in her arms, and followed at his
side across the sea. The soldier too sprang up, saying in his homely
fashion, "Ah! /nom d'un pipe/! I would follow /you/ to the devil;" and
without seeming astonished by it, he walked on the water. The
worn-out sinner, believing in the omnipotence of God, also followed
the stranger.
The two peasants said to each other, "If they are walking on the sea,
why should we not do as they do?" and they also arose and hastened
after the others. Thomas tried to follow, but his faith tottered; he sank
in the sea more than once, and rose again, but the third time he also
walked on the sea. The bold steersman clung like a remora to the wreck
of his boat. The miser had had faith, and had risen to go, but he tried to
take his gold with him, and it was his gold that dragged him down to
the bottom. The learned man had scoffed at the charlatan and at the
fools who listened to him; and when he heard the mysterious stranger

propose to the passengers that they should walk on the waves, he began
to laugh, and the ocean swallowed him. The girl was dragged down
into the depths by her lover. The Bishop and the older lady went to the
bottom, heavily laden with sins, it may be, but still more heavily laden
with incredulity and confidence in idols, weighted down by devotion,
into which alms-deeds and true religion entered but little.
The faithful flock, who walked with a firm step high and dry above the
surge, heard all about them the dreadful whistling of the blast; great
billows broke across their path, but an irresistible force cleft a way for
them through the sea. These believing ones saw through the spray a
dim speck of light flickering in the window of a fisherman's hut on the
shore, and each one, as he pushed on bravely towards the light, seemed
to hear the voice of his fellow crying, "Courage!" through all the
roaring of the surf; yet no one had spoken a word--so absorbed was
each by his own peril. In this way they reached the shore.
When they were all seated near the fisherman's fire, they looked round
in vain for their guide with the light about him. The sea washed up the
steersman at the base of the cliff on which the cottage stood; he was
clinging with might and main to the plank as a sailor can cling when
death stares him in the face; the MAN went down and rescued the
almost exhausted seaman; then he said, as he held out a succoring hand
above the man's head:
"Good, for this once; but do not try it again; the example would be too
bad."
He took the skipper on his shoulders, and carried him to the fisherman's
door; knocked for admittance for the exhausted man; then, when the
door of the humble refuge opened, the Saviour disappeared.
The Convent of Mercy was built for sailors on this