THE POOR THING
by Robert Louis Stevenson
There was a man in the islands who fished for
his bare bellyful, and took his life in his
hands to go forth upon the sea between four
planks. But though he had much ado, he was
merry of heart; and the gulls heard him laugh
when the spray met him. And though he had
little lore, he was sound of spirit; and when
the fish came to his hook in the midwaters,
he blessed God without weighing. He was bitter
poor in goods and bitter ugly of countenance,
and he had no wife.
It fell in the time of the fishing, that the
man awoke in his house about the midst of the
afternoon. The fire burned in the midst, and
the smoke went up and the sun came down by the
chimney. And the man was aware of the likeness
of one that warmed his hands at the red peats.
"I greet you," said the man, "in the name of God."
"I greet you," said he that warmed his hands,
"but not in the name of God, for I am none of
His; nor in the name of Hell, for I am not of
Hell. For I am but a bloodless thing, less
than wind and lighter than a sound, and the
wind goes through me like a net, and I am
broken by a sound and shaken by the cold."
"Be plain with me," said the man, "and tell
me your name and of your nature."
"My name," quoth the other, "is not yet named,
and my nature not yet sure. For I am part of
a man; and I was a part of your fathers, and
went out to fish and fight with them in the
ancient days. But now is my turn not yet come;
and I wait until you have a wife, and then shall
I be in your son, and a brave part of him,
rejoicing manfully to launch the boat into
the surf, skilful to direct the helm, and a
man of might where the ring closes and the
blows are going."
"This is a marvellous thing to hear," said
the man; "and if you are indeed to be my son,
I fear it will go ill with you; for I am bitter
poor in goods and bitter ugly in face, and I
shall never get me a wife if I live to the
age of eagles."
"All this have I come to remedy, my Father,"
said the Poor Thing; "for we must go this
night to the little isle of sheep, where our
fathers lie in the dead-cairn, and to-morrow
to the Earl's Hall, and there shall you find
a wife by my providing."
So the man rose and put forth his boat at the
time of the sunsetting; and the Poor Thing sat
in the prow, and the spray blew through his
bones like snow, and the wind whistled in his
teeth, and the boat dipped not with the weight
of him.
"I am fearful to see you, my son," said the
man. "For methinks you are no thing of God."
"It is only the wind that whistles in my teeth,"
said the Poor Thing, "and there is no life in
me to keep it out."
So they came to the little isle of sheep, where
the surf burst all about it in the midst of the
sea, and it was all green with bracken, and all
wet with dew, and the moon enlightened it. They
ran the boat into a cove, and set foot to land;
and the man came heavily behind among the rocks
in the deepness of the bracken, but the Poor
Thing went before him like a smoke in the light
of the moon. So they came to the dead-cairn,
and they laid their ears to the stones; and the
dead complained withinsides like a swarm of bees:
"Time was that marrow was in our bones, and
strength in our sinews; and the thoughts of
our head were clothed upon with acts and the
words of men. But now are we broken in sunder,
and the bonds of our bones are loosed, and our
thoughts lie in the dust."
Then said the Poor Thing: "Charge them that
they give you the virtue they withheld".
And the man said: "Bones of my fathers, greeting!
for I am sprung of your loins. And now, behold,
I break open the piled stones of your cairn, and
I let in the noon between your ribs. Count it
well done, for it was to be; and give me what I
come seeking in the name of blood and in the
name of God."
And the spirits of the dead stirred in the cairn
like ants; and they spoke: "You have broken the
roof of our cairn and let in the noon between
our ribs; and you have the strength of the
still-living. But what virtue have we? what
power? or what jewel here in the dust with us,
that any living man should covet or receive it?
for we are less than nothing. But we tell you
one thing, speaking with many voices like bees,
that the way is plain before all like the
grooves of launching: So forth into life and
fear not, for so did we all in the ancient
ages." And their voices passed away like an
eddy in a river.
"Now," said the Poor Thing, "they have told
you a lesson, but make them give you a gift.
Stoop your hand among the bones without drawback,
and you shall find their treasure."
So the man stooped his hand, and the dead
laid hold upon it many and faint like ants;
but he shook them off, and behold, what he
brought up in his hand was the shoe of a horse,
and it was rusty.
"It is a thing of no price," quoth the man,
"for it is rusty."
"We shall see that," said the Poor Thing; "for
in my thought it is a good thing to do what
our fathers did, and to keep what they kept
without question. And in my thought one thing
is as good as another in this world; and a
shoe of a horse will do."
Now they got into their boat with the horseshoe,
and when the dawn was come they were aware of
the smoke of the Earl's town and the bells of
the Kirk that beat. So they set foot to shore;
and the man went up to the market among the
fishers over against the palace and the Kirk;
and he was bitter poor and bitter ugly, and he
had never a fish to sell, but only a shoe of a
horse in his creel, and it rusty.
"Now," said the Poor Thing, "do so and so, and
you shall find a wife and I a mother."
It befell that the Earl's daughter came forth
to go into the Kirk upon her prayers; and when
she saw the poor man stand in the market with
only the shoe of a horse, and it rusty, it came
in her mind it should be a thing of price.
"What is that?" quoth she.
"It is a shoe of a horse," said the man.
"And what is the use of it?" quoth the Earl's
daughter.
"It is for no use," said the man.
"I may not believe that," said she; "else why
should you carry it?"
"I do so," said he, "because it was so my
fathers did in the ancient ages; and I have
neither a better reason nor a worse."
Now the Earl's daughter could not find it in
her mind to believe him. "Come," quoth she,
"sell me this, for I am sure it is a thing
of price."
"Nay," said the man, "the thing is not for sale."
"What!" cried the Earl's daughter. "Then
what make you here in the town's market, with
the thing in your creel and nought beside?"
"I sit here," says the man, "to get me a
wife."
"There is no sense in any of these answers,"
thought the Earl's daughter; "and I could
find it in my heart to weep."
By came the Earl upon that; and she called
him and told him all. And when he had heard,
he was of his daughter's mind that this should
be a thing of virtue; and charged the man to
set a price upon the thing, or else be hanged
upon the gallows; and that was near at hand,
so that the man could see it.
"The way of life is straight like the grooves
of launching," quoth the man. "And if I am
to be hanged let me be hanged."
"Why!" cried the Earl, "will you set your
neck against a shoe of a horse, and it rusty?"
"In my thought," said the man, "one thing is
as good as another in this world; and a shoe
of a horse will do."
"This can never be," thought the Earl; and
he stood and looked upon the man, and bit his
beard.
And the man looked up at him and smiled. "It
was so my fathers did in the ancient ages,"
quoth he to the Earl, "and I have neither a
better reason nor a worse."
"There is no sense in any of this," thought
the Earl, "and I must be growing old." So
he had his daughter on one side, and says he:
"Many suitors have you denied, my child.
But here is a very strange matter that a man
should cling so to a shoe of a horse, and it
rusty; and that he should offer it like a
thing on sale, and yet not sell it; and that
he should sit there seeking a wife. If I
come not to the bottom of this thing, I shall
have no more pleasure in bread; and I can see
no way, but either I should hang or you should
marry him."
"By my troth, but he is bitter ugly," said
the Earl's daughter. "How if the gallows be
so near at hand?"
"It was not so," said the Earl, "that my fathers
did in the ancient ages. I am like the man, and
can give you neither a better reason nor a worse.
But do you, prithee, speak with him again."
So the Earl's daughter spoke to the man. "If
you were not so bitter ugly," quoth she, "my
father the Earl would have us marry."
"Bitter ugly am I," said the man, "and you as
fair as May. Bitter ugly I am, and what of
that? It was so my fathers . . ."
"In the name of God," said the Earl's daughter,
"let your fathers be!"
"If I had done that," said the man, "you had
never been chaffering with me here in the market,
nor your father the Earl watching with the end
of his eye."
"But come," quoth the Earl's daughter, "this
is a very strange thing, that you would have
me wed for a shoe of a horse, and it rusty."
"In my thought," quoth the man, "one thing is
as good . . ."
"Oh, spare me that," said the Earl's daughter,
"and tell me why I should marry."
"Listen and look," said the man.
Now the wind blew through the Poor Thing like
an infant crying, so that her heart was melted;
and her eyes were unsealed, and she was aware of
the thing as it were a babe unmothered, and she
took it to her arms, and it melted in her arms
like the air.
"Come," said the man, "behold a vision of our
children, the busy hearth, and the white heads.
And let that suffice, for it is all God offers."
"I have no delight in it," said she; but with
that she sighed.
"The ways of life are straight like the grooves
of launching," said the man; and he took her by
the hand.
"And what shall we do with the horseshoe?" quoth
she.
"I will give it to your father," said the man;
"and he can make a Kirk and a mill of it for me."
It came to pass in time that the Poor Thing was
born; but memory of these matters slept within
him, and he knew not that which he had done.
But he was a part of the eldest son; rejoicing
manfully to launch the boat into the surf,
skilful to direct the helm, and a man of might
where the ring closes and the blows are going.
~~~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~~~
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