Fortitude | Page 2

in. Because he had been there very
often before he knew every flagstone in the floor and every rafter in the
roof and all the sporting pictures on the walls, and the long shining row
of mugs and coloured plates by the fire-place and the cured hams
hanging from the ceiling ... but to-night was Christmas Eve and a very
especial occasion, and he was sure to be beaten when he got home, and
so must make the very most of his time. He watched the door also for
Stephen Brant, who was late, but might arrive at any moment. Had it
not been for Stephen Brant Peter knew that he would not have been
allowed there at all. The Order of the Kitchen was jealously guarded
and Sam Figgis, the Inn-keeper, would have considered so small a child
a nuisance, but Stephen was the most popular man in the county, and
he had promised that Peter would be quiet--and he was quiet, even at
that age; no one could be so quiet as Peter when he chose. And then
they liked the boy after a time. He was never in the way, and he was
wonderfully wise for his years: he was a strong kid, too, and had
muscles....
So Peter crept there when he could, although it very often meant a
beating afterwards, but the Kitchen was worth a good many beatings,
and he would have gone through Hell--and did indeed go through his
own special Hell on many occasions--to be in Stephen's company. They
were all nice to him even when Stephen wasn't there, but there were
other reasons, besides the people, that drew Peter to the place.
It was partly perhaps because The Bending Mule was built right out
into the sea, being surrounded on three sides by water. This was all
twenty years ago, and I believe that now the Inn has been turned into an
Arts Club, and there are tea-parties and weekly fashion papers where

there had once been those bloody fights and Mother Figgis sitting like
some witch over the fire; but it is no matter. Treliss is changed, of
course, and so is the world, and there are politeness and sentiment
where once there were oaths and ferocity, and there is much soap
instead of grimy hands and unwashen faces ... and the fishing is sadly
on the decline, but there are good drapers' shops in the town.
For Peter the charm of the place was that "he was out at sea." One
could hear quite distinctly the lap of the waves against the walls and on
stormy nights the water screamed and fought and raged outside and
rolled in thundering echoes along the shore. To-night everything was
still, and the snow was falling heavily, solemnly over the town.
The snow, and the black sea, and the lights that rose tier on tier like
crowds at a circus, could be seen through the uncurtained windows.
The snow and quiet of the world "out-along" made the lights and
warmth of the room the more comforting and exciting, and Sam Figgis
had hung holly about the walls and dangled a huge bunch of mistletoe
from the middle beam and poor Jane Clewer was always walking under
it accidentally and waiting a little, but nobody kissed her. These things
Peter noticed; he also noticed that Dicky the Idiot was allowed to be
present as a very great favour because it was Christmas Eve and
snowing so hard, that the room was more crowded than he had ever
seen it, and that Mother Figgis, with her round face and her gnarled and
knotted hands, was at her very merriest and in the best of tempers. All
these things Peter had noticed before Frosted Moses (so called because
of his long white beard and wonderful age) made his remark about
Courage, but as soon as that remark was made Peter's thoughts were on
to it as the hounds are on to a fox.
"'Tisn't life that matters, but the Courage yer bring to it...."
That, of course, at once explained everything. It explained his own
father and his home, it explained poor Mrs. Prothero and her two sons
who were drowned, it explained Stephen's cousin who was never free
from the most painful rheumatics, and it explained Stephen himself
who was never afraid of any one or anything. Peter stared at Frosted

Moses, whose white beard was shining in the fire-place and his boots
were like large black boats; but the old man was drawing at his pipe,
and had made his remark apparently in connection with nothing at all.
Peter was also disappointed to see that the room at large had paid no
attention to the declaration.
Courage. That was what they were all there for, and