NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 20, 15 May 1912, Page 55

NEW ZEALAND STORIES.

The Editor desires to state that New Zealand Stories by New Zealand writers, are published on this page regularly. The page is open to any contributor, and all accepted stories will be paid for at current rates. Terse bright sketches of Dominion life and people, woven in short story form, are required,, and should be headed “New Zealand Stories.” Stamps for return of SIS. must be enclosed

Doc and the Parson.

By

P. B. DOWDING, Paiaka.

LOWLY, through the filmy mornwjL ing mists, the throbbing little /GJ steamer passed from the dreary channel between writhing mangroves, and entered a deep green basin, surrounded by steep manuka-clad bills, and overhung by the twisted limbs of crimson flaring pohutakawas. Round another steep bend, and she drew up to a crazy wooden wharf, littered with cream cans, butter boxes, and fruit cases. Behind, a steep road led up to the straggling village. The new minister had at last arrived. A tall, cleancut, athletic product of an English college education. His immaculate dress arid polished manners struck, a queer note of contrast with the rough clothes and hearty rustic bearing of his little group of weleomers. Presently, a tall, gaunt, uncouth figure, in a torn, grey flannel shirt, a dilapidated pair of faded dungarees, ami a pair of unlaced, muddy "bluchers,” with the trousers tucked into their tops, lurched through the group. Swaying perilously, holding out a hairy hand, and gazing with drink-inflamed, but very kindly, blue eyes, he confronted the minister. "So—hie—you're new —hie—you’re new minister?” he said. • ‘'l’m—hie—l’m glad t'sec you. Don’t —hie—don’t Jam well believe in church mysel; but—hie —but hope yen’ll make big sh—hie—big shueeess of it. Shake ban’s!” The minister looked him over from head to foot. He might have noted a wide, high brow, a fiercely’ aquiline nose, and a spare grey beard and moustache only partly’ hiding a mouth that even now had little tricks of tremulous tenderness infinitely captivating. But the minister saw only that the man was drunk, that he was unwashed, and that his clothes would have disgraced an English tramp. In all his life he had never before been asked to shake hands with such a man. His English exclusiveness and his own natural priggishness rose aghast at the idea. He looked Doc’ steadily’ in the eyes for a moment, ignoring the outstretched hand, turned sharply on his heels, and spoke to a passing steward about his luggage. A little wave of sudden dismay ran through his we.comers, and when next he tried to. start conversation he found that a perceptible wall of coldness had sprung up. Doe Ferguson meantime had staggered to a. seat on -some boxes, whence, chin in baud, and disregarding the expostulations of a bewhiskered farmer seated near him, he watched the minister with eyes that, the younger man somehow’ found it very difficult to meet. When at last the minister was snugly packed away in a rough, muddy-wheeled buggy, Doe’ lurched up again, and caught hold of the shaft. “Mr. Fordyce,” he said, and this time, though he still swayed he clung to the shaft, his voice was controlled, clear, and steely. "Mr. Fordyce, I welcomed you as a brother, and you treated me like a dog. Yon yourself know whether such an action becomes you as a Christian and a parson. 1 want to tell yon that you'll be sorry before you leave this place that you've made an' enemy of Doe’ Ferguson. You can go now, though I'm sorely tempted to pull you from the trap and make yon prove whether you are a better man than I am, drunk and all as I am, God help me! But just remember, I'm your enemy!” And with a final glance that made the minister wince, he turned away, ami went staggering and swaying up the hill until he turned at last into the village store at the top. 'Die Rev\ Foidyce drove away with a throbbing «<*n"e of defeat At his heart, and this was not lessened by the fact that his companion, a bluff, honest far-

mer, was silent for some time, and very evidently sympathis’d with Doe’. “Our friend Doc’ seems a remarkable individual?*’ ventured the minister at last. The farmer flicked his horse with the whip, and stared straight before him. “Doe’ saved my little Annie’s life last winter after two doctors had given her up,’’ he said simply. “There’s not a man livin’ in the district I respect more, in spite of his diinkin’ bouts. You’ll find him a bad enemy, Mr. Fordyce, an’ I think you’ve made a mistake in slightin’ him. Then, after a pause,

‘'He was a smart medical student, once, so I’ve heard. Bis people sent him out here thirty years ago, because that was as far as they could send him. They’d have sent him to a much warmer climate, but I suppose they reckoned he’d find his way there without any help. Drink, of course. He’d go on wild fight in’ and drinkin’ bouts as reg’lar as clockwork about every six months. First, he went prospectin’ on the Thames, then bushwhackin’, then sehool-teachin*; an* when he lost that billet, through drink, settled down here, and bought the store, an’ married the daintiest, sweetest little bit of a woman yon ever saw. Sonic folks condemn his drinkin*, bouts, but most people don’t know' how ashamed an’ sorry be is afterwards. ! know. His wife’s told me all about it!’’ And he flicked the horse again', and was silent for a few moments. “Somehow or other lie took to doctorin’ ami mendin’ broken bones, an’ now most of us round here’d rat In r go to Doc’ than to the be*t doctor in Auckland. About five years ago we all made him a preselltalion of a case of surgical instrnuients. He’s got a whole library of medical books at his hou-o, an’ lie puts in hie winter studjin’

’em. He must have ridden hundreds of miles tendin’ sick folk, an’ he won’t take any pay either!” ‘"Then. he puts in his spare time catchin’ up likely lads. There’s Tom Williams, and .Tack Ford, and Sam Whitethree I know for certain he’s put through Civil Service exams., an’ given a start in life. An’ he’s coachin’ two more for the same exam. This is - the first drinkin’ bout he’s had for two yean? now. As J said before, he saved my little Annie last winter, so you can see why I respect the man.” The minister, too, felt a reluctant respect for Doc’ growing, and when he be-

gan to move, among the people, and found everywhere the affectionate regard in which the man was In Id, he began to think that ho had made a tactical mistake. So one bright morning, about a fortnight after his arrival, lie stopped the “.sulky’’ he was driving at the store door, and entered, with a huge sense of his own magnanimity swelling at his heart. He found Doc* unpacking boxes. “Mr. Ferguson,” he began, in his stilted way. “I’ve come to apologise for what happened the other morning. F did not know who yon were then and appoarap.es were—well, let us say—a little deceiving.. But, I’ve hoard very good reports about you since I arrived, and I will be most delighted to shake hands with you now. if you will let byegones be bye-gone*! ’’ Doe straightened up -lowly and looked the minister carefully from head to foot. Then In? leaned forward on the counter and gazed straight into the young man’s eyes. , » “I think 1 11 remain your enemy. Mr. Fordyce,” he said; and though he spoke quietly his voice seemed to bib? and sting; “and i’ll tell you why. Not because of the affront you gave me, though I’ll not deny I felt that pretty keenly at the time. But it’s on a wider ground

that I’m going to oppose you to the bright of my power. As a man who is interested in the progress and well-being of this community. I shall oppose you because, in a position of great trust and responsibility, you aio unworthy of that trust and a traitor to that responsibility. I am not a believer in your creeds and doctrines; but 1 do believe that an earnest man in your position can do a great deal of good. 1 have helpe 1 every previous minister to the full extent of my ability. I shall oppose you as I would oppose any other public man who was unfit for his position. You showed very conclusively that you were unfit for yours the other morning. As for your apology. I am afraid I can’t accept it. Yon think you made a mistake because I’m a little better man than you thought me. The point is that even if I hail been simply the drunken ’oafer you took me for, you should still have greeted me like a man and a brother. \Ve don’t want the sad old mistakes of exclusiveness and priggishness out here, and if you can’t rid yourself of them yoiiM better return to where they’ll do less harm.” With that he bent down and started hammering again, while the minister, after staring awhile speechless, turned irresolutely and left the store with some new thoughts agitating his mind. He felt very uncomfortable for some, time; but after a while he consoled himself with the thought that if Doc had the will ho had not the power to do him much harm. Tn this he was wrong. Doc had both the will and the power to do him a great deal of harm, and before very long he began to find Doc’s influence fighting with deadly, cold persistence against him ami all his work. Nothing he attempted succeeded. A projected bazaar almost reached the point of triumphant, accomplishment when it suddenly fell fiat from the unexplained defection of some of the most pi eminent workers. The minister, though he could not trace the chain, felt sure it led back to Doc. He started a night class for the young people. Doc immediately enlarged the room at the back of the store, started similar classes, and the minister’s effort died of inanition. Dances in the hpH were started at Doc’s instigation on the nights given to choir practice, and as the minister de».-lined to change the night lor such a pause the church choir became almost a thing of the past. Furthermore, after the first big congregation had satisfied its curiosity, the attendance at church steadily decreased until at last it comprised only those steady old members to whom church was an great a habit as washing their faces in the morning. When he brought defaulting churchgoers to book he would be faced by some argument against the truth of the faith which he knew could have emanated only from Doc. or by a sneering assertion that churchgoers didn’t seem any kinder or better than people who stayed away. On his visits to the little out-districts the groups of young men at the church t Coors would gaze at his immaculate clothes with ill-concealed disdain, and he would hear snatches of the tale about how he had treated Doc “because he hadn’t got a white collar on.’’ Often when he passed the store he would hear Doc’s voice raised in ludicrous imitation of his own somewhat affected dictum, and as the great burst of laughter fol lowed it he would whip up his horse and drive past with a very red face. Doc’s position as storekeeper and village postmaster gave him unrivalled chances of meeting the people, and he was steadily and consistently using against the minister the full influence of his personality and his very considerable powers of ridicule and persuasive speech. The minister showed a very human desire to retaliate. He constantly preached sermons against drink, against atheism, and against those who led the feet <>f the young away from the aisles of the church. He obtained 'll his stores from town and persuaded Mwer.i! families of an economical frame of mind to do .like wise. He managed to get himself elected to the local school committee, and (consistently opposed Do<’» who was chairman, in every move he made. Soon after his arrival he sent home for his English flame, and after a quiet wedding and a brief honeymoon* in Auckland,*, brought her to live in the little cottage beside the old wooden church. 'This stop, of course, further decreased his congregation by the exact number ol maidens with a speculative eye in the district. In another year’s

time he had a chubby chuckling buy to distract his attention from the countless worries with which Doc was hedging him round. One Saturday night the minister had driven his wife and the baby to a farmhouse six miles out where he had been invited to 'pend the night in readiness for church next day. After tea, the frowning clouds that had been lowering all afternoon roared their rage in thunder. and the rain of their wrath presently drove and sluiced against the windows as if thrown by some vindictive hand. In the midst of tins tantrum of Nature the baby took ill. He had been fretful all day: but now, as if in sympathy with the storm, he steadily grew' worse, till it became evident that unless his condition changed he could not last till morning. The comely stout hostess tried all the devices -she knew, but at last she stepped back from the little cot helpless. “There’s only one chance," said site. “It’s Doc Ferguson. He’ll come if you send for him in spite of the storm, and there’s a telephone here.” “That rough man?” said the young mother. “What good could he do?” ‘lie could save your child, if it’s possible to save it.’ My little Minnie wouldn’t be here now if it hadn't been for Doo.” And she snuggled the somewhat dirty little figure clinging to her skirts closer to her. “Doc Ferguson?” said the minister, Ids brow lowering and all the lines of his face deepening. “We can’t send for him!” pud he leaned heavily against the window and watched the sullen, threshing rain. His young wife stole to him, Circled his tense right arm with two white clinging hands and gently led him back to the cot, where the babe lav, scarcely breathing, its little, face distorted with pain. Then with a sudden movement she dung her arms round his neck, and gazed up at him with wide, beseeching eyes. “His only chance," she whispered; “his .only chance."

He gazed down at her with tense pain in his eyes. At. last —"You ask him," he said huskily. “I can’t.” She hurried away. Presently she returned. **llis wife says he’ll come.” she whispered. And together, hand in hand, they watched by the cot. which had been moved into the kitehen to be near the fire. At last the farm' dogs

started to bark and a horse ridden desperately splashed and pounded up to the door. In a flash it was flung open, and Doc. big, dominant, dripping, his eyes flashing, stood framed in the blackness. A single glance round and then he strode straight to the cot, flinging down a dripping sou' wester and shedding a huge oilskin as be went. A moment’s examination, and then in two .seconds everyone was working as if driven by stinging whips, the minister for the saddlebags, the farmer to put the horse in the shed, the women to get a bath ready and to warm blankets. Yet he spoke quietly; but when Doe was in these moods people always flew and leapt to do his bidding. The minister never forgot what followed. Doc seemed consumed by some intense inner flame. All the will and brain and life of the man seemed concentrated into a terrifle conflict with some invisible but formidable and wary foe. lie bathed the child himself, while the astonished women stood helpless by. He wrapped it in the warm blankets and gently administered some colourless preparation he produced from the saddlebags. When it started to wail he took it in his strong arms and strode with it up and down the kitehen, hugging it to his broad chest as if he would infuse some of his own life into the chilled little form.

The minister watched silently. Dimly he began to understand the wonderful cures with which Doc was credited. In this man, above and beyond his knowledge burned the genius of healing, an intense, vivid flame. Looking at him now. one could imagine the great doctor he might have made, how he might have been honoured ill courts and consulted by kings. As he watched and thought, the minister dozed. Suddenly he awoke with a sense of being alone. The kitchen was empty; the child, pale, but breathing easily, slept gently in the cot. Tile women had been bundled io bed to get a few hours' sleep. He opened the door. A pallid dawn was stirring behind the grey-curtained east, but the rain fell still with steady sullen persistence. Round the corner of the house presently came Doe, in oilskin and sou' wester, leading his great- grey horse. The minister walked out to meet him, and stood before him holding out his hand, speechless with emotion, his whole heart in his eyes. . But Doc, with an exact imitation of the minister’s own action on his first arrival. eyed him over superciliously and then turned, vaulted on his horse, and cantered off without looking behind.

They heard afterwards that he had had to swim his horse across a flooded creek at great risk to his life. From that time forward, though the minister could not bring himself to again sue for Doe’s friendship, he ceased from all active enmity to him. He preached a tender sermon next day from the text “Inasmuch as ye do it- to one of these little ones," and electrified Iris hearers by very pointed references to Doc and the work he was constantly doing. He was very active in an unobtrusive way in helping on a movement to present Doc with some more medical books.

Doc, too, somewhat abated his endeavours to frustrate and harass the minister. lie was secretly a little ashamed of his action on the night of the great storm, and then, too, he could not help noting a rapidly-growing change in the younger man. His new surroundings, the struggle he was having to succeed, and, above all, a certain essential manliness at the basis of his character were together changing his views of life. He no longer thought a white collar and polished manners the hall-marks of a high moral character, or well brushed clothes the measure of a man. Doc saw him one day walking past the store with Captain Downs, an eccentri • old pensioner, who dressed habitually in a flannel shirt and a pair of dungarees tied round with rope. The minister was laughing heartily at. one of the old rogue’s •innumerable stories; and Doc smiled his approval to himself Yet the two drew no nearer together. Not long afterwards an Agricultural show was held at a village about ten miles off. A long wooden bridge here crossed a broad estuary—alternately, at different states of the tide, a stretch of mud flats, traversed by snaky streams, and a wide, deep, blue arm of the sea. The bridge was being repaired, and a long stretch of the railing On one side was down. The Minister returned early, and about half way across the bridge came across Doe. staggering and swaying along, evidently very drunk. The old mania had once more descended on him. and, 'conscious that he had had enough, he was making for his horse, which he had left on the other side of the river. As the sulky drew near him, he turned his head, saw the Minister, made a clumsy attempt to step out of the way, and in a flash was over the side of the bridge. The tide was setting out, and the sur face of the water here was a troubled face of streaky ripples and oily swirls.

telling of the fierce current below. lr. a moment- Doc’s head rose on the opposite side of the bridge, his arms splashof wildly, and then he sank again out of sight in a great bubbling swirl. Almost at the same instant, the young Minister, flinging off his coat, climbed the rail, and stood poised a moment, black against the crimson sunset, on the top rail. Then, he dived cleanly to the spot where Doc’s head disappeared. He rose only a few yards behind Doc, and dived again for him as he sank for the second time, gripped him by the hair, and rose with him to the surface. Doc still struggling wildly. Once able to breath again, the older man ceased struggling, and gave himself docilely to the Minister’s care. He was quite sober now, and wonderfully collected. The young man turned him on his back, so that he could easily hold his face above water, and then started to make for the shore.

With such a current flowing, all he could do was t-o struggle steadily to the left, and try to effect a landing on a wooded point round which the river swept before it ended its life in the ocean.

Strive as he might he seemed to getno nearer to the snore. A thousand demon hands seemed to be pulling him out into midstream, to be clutching Doe. ant dragging him from out of bis grasp, still, steadily, desperately, almost blind with exhaustion, he struggled on. Suddenly something brushed his face. A long braiveli, partly broken off in the great storm, hung trailing in the stream. He clutched it, hauled on it, found it held, and together the two worked their way to land, dragged themselves clear of the clinging hands of death, scrambled" up the steep bank M,l <l fell heavily among the bushes, parting and almost dead. There they lay u’ot ionless for a long time. The Minister rose first and stood gazing down at Doe, who, shaken anti white lipped gazed up at him with an inscrutable expression in his blue eves. Presently lie rose with an effort, and stood opposite the Minister, gazing him straight in the eyes. Suddenly, without word spoken on either side their hands met in a long tight si asp that in a moment wiped clear all memory of past enmity, and proclaimed them at last men. brothers, and equals, two sons of a universal Father. Thus began a friendship that lasted till after the passing of- many years. Doc at last d.ied in the Minister's arms. The Minister says it is going to last much longer than that, and it- may be that he is right.