CHAPTER XXV

THERE IS MERCY, EVEN AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR, IF YE REPENT

Early next morning, at five o’clock, Steve was again at the scene of disaster. Gangs of men were still busy looking for dead and wounded.

Steve was told that the hospital was full to overflowing, and that the Wanderers’ Hall had also been formed into a temporary hospital, and was also nearly full of wounded. As Steve was walking from one ruin to another, seeking for likely places where aid may be required, he came to a mass of ruins. As he stood, looking thoughtfully and sadly at a home, only one day before tenanted by, perhaps, a happy family, now lying in a heap of debris, its inmates no one knows where--perhaps sick and wounded to death--perhaps _dead!_ he heard a moan of despair.

‘Who is there?’

Only another mournful moan for a reply.

Steve walked towards the sound, and came to a dog--a mongrel, wounded and crippled.

He was moved to pity to see the look of entreaty, almost human, in the eyes of the dog. It seemed to ask his aid. Steve lifted the dog tenderly, and carried it to a pool of water near by. But the dog would not drink, it only whined, and, wagging its tail, crawled back to the spot where found, looking still, with its entreating eyes, towards Steve. Steve was puzzled at its action, and followed it back to the spot. The dog gave a few feeble scratches at the debris on which it lay. A beam of mental light seemed almost to dazzle Steve, as it occurred to him that the dog wanted him to search for some loved master or mistress. He lost not a moment to begin, and further aid soon coming up, ere long they succeeded in laying open what seemed to be the ruins of a dining-room. Under a heavy beam they found a dead woman with a spoon in her hand, having, apparently, been occupied in feeding a child of about six months, who was lying, apparently unhurt, under an arch formed by the falling timbers. The child was sleeping, and, from the signs of tears on its cheeks, Steve judged that it had cried itself to sleep. Poor child! it had escaped by a miracle. Who knows what work this child was born to accomplish? When scores of strong men and women perished, this weak babe of six months lived. God, apparently, has work for it to do before it may die. Perhaps, when Steve is old and trembling, this child, saved so miraculously, may be accomplishing its destined work, and doing something that shall benefit the whole human race, and causing its name to be inscribed on the list of imperishable names.

The joy of the dog seemed almost human when it saw the wakened child, crowing as if nothing had happened. Steve waited to see that the child was safely handed to the care of a kind and motherly-looking woman, and then returned to his hotel for breakfast. At breakfast Steve learned, with pleasure, that the President and other members of the Government were on their way to Johannesburg to visit the scene of disaster. He resolved to go to the station to see the arrival of the Presidential party.

A great crowd was waiting at the station to welcome the man, who, a little more than a month ago, would have been hooted and jeered at, if not murdered, if he had ventured to visit Johannesburg unattended, as he was doing now. But the generous and humane actions of the President, during the last month, had prepared the way for the conciliation which was now to take place; drawn towards each other, as both parties were, by common sympathy at this moment of mutual loss and suffering. Here, across the dead and wounded of Burgher and Uitlander, the representatives of both parties shook hands, and forgot for the time, if not for ever, their political differences.

The President and many of the most prominent men of Pretoria, who were of the party, were driven through the destroyed township. They then drove to the improvised hospital at the Wanderers. The President showed visible emotion as he viewed the many wounded. The tears were seen to force their way down the face of the man, who, in times of greatest danger, showed no fear or emotion. But such is ever the way with great and noble men. When danger threatens themselves, they know no fear or pain; but when others suffer, they know how to sympathise and feel for them.

With deep emotion, His Honour thanked the people of Johannesburg for the sympathy and practical aid they had given to the wounded, and promised that the Government should not forget to do their share in succouring the needy ones who had suffered loss of parents or friends.

His Honour then reminded the suffering wounded that there was a Great Physician on high, Who would heal all their wounds, bodily and spiritually, if they would only ask Him.

His Honour was presented by an address from the Relief Committee, thanking him for the practical sympathy shown to Johannesburg in this visit, to which the President replied in suitable terms.

After a visit to the room upstairs, where some fifteen orphaned children were housed, and some kindly words of consolation and advice to the children, His Honour visited the permanent hospital, which was also crowded with wounded.

As Steve was following in the rear of the Presidential party, his sleeve was pulled by one of the attendants, who informed him that one of the wounded patients, who had seen him passing, earnestly requested to speak to him.

Steve readily consented, wondering who of the wounded could know him.

Following the attendant, Steve found himself before a mattress, on which a man was lying, whose face was so mutilated that he could not decide whether he knew the man or not. He knelt down, and taking the hand of the wounded man in his own, gently asked him what he could do for him.

‘Do you not know me, Joubert?’ the man faintly asked.

As Steve looked at him inquiringly, without seeming to remember him, he said,--

‘Do you not remember Tuesday evening?’

The voice of the man, faint as it was, seemed now to recall to Steve the scene of two evenings before, when a mortal man denied the existence of his Maker, and dared God to strike him dead, if indeed God there was.

‘My God, hast thou indeed taken this man at his word, and shown sinful man Thy might? Bock, Bock, why did you ever deny your God, and bring yourself to this?’

‘Why, indeed? Joubert, for God’s sake, for the sake of the God you worship, tell me what I must do to escape from the wrath to come? You said truly there is a God of Wrath as well as a God of love. Teach me to escape the God of Wrath and find the God of Love, before it is too late! for now I know that there is a God of Wrath! He has found me indeed. Oh, God, it is terrible--terrible! The darkness surrounds me. Give me light? Give me light?’

Steve was shocked and grieved inexpressibly at this scene. He murmured a prayer for guidance how to aid this erring soul.

‘Bock, old man, your sin was terrible. But God has already shown you some of His great love; for it can only be out of love and mercy that you were not killed outright, and were given the opportunity to still live and repent. If you truly repent, there is still mercy for you, even now!’

‘Oh, is there, is there? Oh, God, how can I know that there is still grace for me?’

Steve motioned for the attendant to come to him, and asked him if there was a Bible to be had. He was handed a copy of the New Testament, which he opened, and asked Bock if he might read him a chapter out of it, to prove to him that there was still grace for him. The poor wounded man gratefully accepted, and Steve read to him the beautiful story of the repentant sinner on the Cross, at the side of Jesus. Greedily the dying man listened to this true story of the Cross, which he had often heard and read in his youth, without appreciating the wealth of mercy and hope there was in it. When he heard the answer Jesus gave to the repentant sinner: ‘Soon shall ye enter with me into the kingdom of Heaven,’ hope once more came to him, and a faint beam of joy seemed to light up his wounded face.

When Steve had finished, he said gently to Bock,--

‘Do you believe now that there is hope?’

‘Yes, oh, yes. Won’t you pray for me? God will hear your prayer; you are so good to me.’

‘God loves to hear the sinner pray. We are all sinners; I as well as you. I will pray; but you must also pray.’

And Steve, kneeling as he was before the dying man, lifted up his voice and prayed. His prayer began in supplication, but, as he prayed, he seemed to feel that God had already answered, for he ended his prayer in thanksgiving, thanking God that another sinner had been gathered to His fold.

When Steve opened his eyes he saw that a great change had come over the face of the dying man. A beautiful smile dwelt on the mutilated countenance of the repented sinner, while a far-away look shone in his eyes, as if he already saw beyond this world.

‘Thank you, Joubert, thank you. God will reward you. I thank thee, O Lord, that Thou hast heard me, even now, and hast pardoned me my great sin. Hark! how beautifully they sing; surely ’tis angel voices sounding so sweet. Ah! that is music indeed. What are they singing? “Glory be to God and the Lamb, for a sinner saved! Amen, Amen.”’

As he uttered the last word he seemed to fall gently asleep--it was the last long sleep, from which he shall only wake at the sound of the trumpet, calling him to the judgment seat of the God he had denied in life, but found in death.

Steve knelt long before the dead man in prayer, in earnest thought. He could not help thinking how many of those killed in this terrible disaster were as unprepared to die as was this man; and how few of them had the opportunity given them to repent before they died.

After a while, the nurse, finding a spare moment, came to see how her patient was progressing. When she saw that he was dead, she remarked to Steve that she was not surprised, for the doctor had said that he could not live; his injuries being too severe.

Steve asked if she knew anything of how Bock happened to be in the accident. She replied that she only knew what Bock himself had told her a few hours previously, viz., that he had gone to the scene of the accident on business. That it was the first time he had ever gone in that direction. That he was standing at the door of a tall building, inquiring his way, when suddenly it seemed to him as if the earth was turning upside down, and as if the house in front of him was tumbling over on to him. That was all he remembered until he came back to consciousness in the hospital.

After the funeral of the dead man was over, Steve took the first train back to Pretoria, sad at heart at the scenes of suffering and death he had witnessed.