The covenant - James A. Michener [273]
On the second to last Sunday those families who still wanted to hear Reverend Saltwood preach arranged an alfresco worship on the afterdeck, and to it came most of the children, hoping to hear the missionary's wife tell one of her stories about ostriches, or perhaps even to sing. She did the latter. When her husband called for one of the Church of England hymns, and there was no organ to set the tune, her voice rose in unwavering volume, a beautiful voice that seemed to fill that part of the ship. Then her husband spoke briefly of Christ's mission in Africa. He raised no difficult points, ruffled no sensibilities, and when the service ended with another hymn, many of the families congratulated him on an excellent performance. 'We're so glad you sailed with us,' one man said at the exact moment when the captain, in something of a rage, demanded to know who had authorized the service on the afterdeck.
'It just happened,' a junior officer said.
'Don't let it happen again,' the captain said. Several passengers had already protested that such a service was a mockery, since the real service was being held in the salon.
At Salisbury there was confusion. Emily had expected her son Richard to appear; she was not prepared for Hilary, and certainly not for his black wife. Had she wanted them to come, she would have sent for them, but when they arrived she simply could not behave poorly. She was glad to see Hilary again, even though he did look older than she, and she was respectful of his choice of a wife.
In the second week she confided to her friend Mrs. Lambton: 'Thank God, I behaved myself. That Emma's a treasure.'
'Can you stomach the blackness?'
'I'm happy if my son's happy. You must feel the same way about Vera, married to the wagon builder. Emma tells me your daughter is quite content, with twoor was it three?lovely children.'
'To tell you frankly, Emily, long ago, before you talked with me, I dreamed that about this time Vera would be coming back to Salisbury with Hilarythat he'd be taking up his duties at the cathedral...' Suddenly she burst into uncontrollable tears, and after they were stanched she said bitterly, 'Damn! Damn! How dreadfully wrong things happen. How can you stand having that blackamoor in your house?'
Emily wanted to weep, too, not for the black woman in her house, but for her son David, lost God knows where in Indiana, for Richard with his illiterate stable girl, and most of all for Hilary, that sad, mixed-up man about whose head such ugly rumors flew.
'You know what they're saying in London?' Mrs. Lambton said after her sniffles were brought under control. 'Dr. Keer himself said to a small gathering ... Our Cousin Alice was there and heard him. He says that poor Hilary is an outcast, that he's made a perfect ass of himself, with English and Dutch alike.'
'I suppose it's true,' Emily said. 'But I wonder if it matters. In God's eyes, I mean. The other day I received a letter from London. Someone who'd been on the ship with Hilary. They said his sermon on the voyage was like Christ Himself walking among men and restating His principles. He said he thought I'd like to know.'
At this Mrs. Lambton dissolved completely, and after a series of racking sobs, mumbled, 'I had so wanted them to marry. Vera could have saved your son, Emily. She'd have made him strong and proper. He'd have been dean over there, mark my words. He'd have been dean.'
'The rest of the letter,' Emily continued, 'said that Hilary had been denied use of the proper chapel aboard ship. The salon, I think they call it. He had to preach in the open. I think Jesus often preached in the open. I don't think even Vera could have gained permission for my son to preach inside. I think he was ordained to' Against her will she broke into fearful sobs: He was so gaunt. He looked so sickly. The house they lived in on the desert, it sounded like a peat-gatherer's