News from the Duchy | Page 4

stuck an' stared.
"What beat everything was the behaviour of the train, so to say. There
it stood, like as if it'd pulled up alongside the pool for the very purpose
to unload these unfort'nit' men; an' yet takin' no notice whatever. Not a
sign o' the guard--not a head poked out anywheres in the line o'
windows--only the sun shinin', an' the steam escapin', an' out o' the rear
compartment this procession droppin' out an' high-divin' one after
another.
"Eight of 'em! Eight, as I am a truth-speakin' man--but there! you saw
'em with your own eyes. Eight! and the last of the eight scarce in the
water afore the engine toots her whistle an' the train starts on again,
round the curve an' out o' sight.
"She didn' leave us no time to doubt, neither, for there the poor fellas
were, splashin' an' blowin', some of 'em bleatin' for help, an' gurglin',
an' for aught we know drownin' in three-to-four feet o' water. So we
pulled ourselves together an' ran to give 'em first aid.
"It didn' take us long to haul the whole lot out and ashore; and, as
Providence would have it, not a bone broken in the party. One or two
were sufferin' from sprains, and all of 'em from shock (but so were we,
for that matter), and between 'em they must ha' swallowed a bra' few
pints o' water, an' muddy water at that. I can't tell ezackly when or how
we discovered they was all blind, or near-upon blind. It may ha' been
from the unhandiness of their movements an' the way they clutched at
us an' at one another as we pulled 'em ashore. Hows'ever, blind they
were; an' I don't remember that it struck us as anyways singular, after
what we'd been through a'ready. We fished out a concertina, too, an' a
silver-mounted flute that was bobbin' among the weeds.

"The man the concertina belonged to--a tall fresh-complexioned young
fella he was, an' very mild of manner--turned out to be a sort o' leader
o' the party; an' he was the first to talk any sense. 'Th-thank you,' he
said. 'They told us Penzance was the next stop.'
"'Hey?' says I.
"'They told us,' he says again, plaintive-like, feelin' for his spectacles
an' not finding 'em, 'that Penzance was the next stop.'
"'Bound for Penzance, was you?' I asks.
"'For the Land's End,' says he, his teeth chatterin'. I set it down the man
had a stammer, but 'twas only the shock an' the chill of his duckin'.
"'Well,' says I, 'this ain't the Land's End, though I dessay it feels a bit
like it. Then you wasn' thrown out?' I says.
"'Th-thrown out?' says he. 'N-no. They told us Penzance was the next
stop.'
"'Then,' says I, 'if you got out accidental you've had a most providential
escape, an' me an' my mates don't deserve less than to hear about it.
There's bound to be inquiries after you when the guard finds your
compartment empty an' the door open. May be the train'll put back;
more likely they'll send a search-party; but anyways you're all wet
through, an' the best thing for health is to off wi' your clothes an' dry
'em, this warm afternoon.'
"'I dessay,' says he, 'you'll have noticed that our eyesight is affected.'
"'All the better if you're anyways modest,' says I. 'You couldn' find a
retirededer place than this--not if you searched: an' we don't mind.'
"Well, sir, the end was we stripped 'em naked as Adam, an' spread their
clothes to dry 'pon the grass. While we tended on 'em the mild young
man told us how it had happened. It seems they'd come by excursion
from Exeter. There's a blind home at Exeter, an' likewise a cathedral

choir, an' Sunday school, an' a boys' brigade, with other sundries; an'
this year the good people financin' half a dozen o' these shows had
discovered that by clubbin' two sixpences together a shillin' could be
made to go as far as eighteenpence; and how, doin' it on the co-op,
instead of an afternoon treat for each, they could manage a two days'
outin' for all--Exeter to Penzance an' the Land's End, sleepin' one night
at Penzance, an' back to Exeter at some ungodly hour the next. It's no
use your askin' me why a man three-parts blind should want to visit the
Land's End. There's an attraction about that place, an' that's all you can
say. Everybody knows as 'tisn' worth seein', an' yet everybody wants to
see it. So why not a blind man?
"Well, this Happy Holiday Committee (as they called themselves) got
the Company to fix them up with a special excursion; an' our blind
friends--bein' sensitive, or maybe a touch above mixin'