CHAPTER IX.

MARION MEETS A MISSIONARY.

Marion made her way down to the dock, feeling almost dazed at what she had seen. She was endeavoring to decide what was her duty in the matter.

She heard the clang of the bell as the ambulance dashed into Bellevue Hospital yard, but she was too late to see more, for the great gate closed as she reached it.

She took her permit from her pocket and glanced at it eagerly. It was dated, so she knew she must use it that day, and, furthermore, it was now five minutes of eleven, so there was no time to be spent in helping Sallie.

“They’ll take good care of her, I am sure,” she whispered to herself, “and, anyway, I can write to Silas as soon as I get up there. He can’t be so bad but what he’ll come and get her.”

In less than five minutes she was on the dock, and here for a moment Marion almost forgot poor Sallie. There were several policemen standing around, as if waiting for something, and on the deck of the _Thomas Brennan_, the ferryboat that was to convey her to Blackwell’s Island, and which was moored to the dock, she could see several more men in blue uniforms waiting.

As soon as Marion passed the dock entrance an officer came up to her. Marion handed him her permit and he turned and nodded to the captain.

“Go right on deck, miss. The prisoners will stay down below,” he said, kindly, as he led Marion over and helped her down the gangplank.

Marion glanced around the boat, which looked anything but attractive, and was soon on the deck as the officer had directed her.

Just as she reached it a great covered wagon came lumbering down to the dock.

“Here she comes at last! Here’s the ‘Black Maria!’” cried the captain; then he gave some orders and at once all was activity.

Marion’s eyes were widely opened when she saw what followed, for there were fourteen prisoners in the “Black Maria,” two of the worst ones being handcuffed together.

In the quickest possible manner they were driven on to the boat, a guard standing at each side of the gangplank to keep them from jumping overboard.

As soon as they were all on, the order was given to start, and the boat was soon ploughing its way up the East River and among the craft that dotted the water.

“Is this a strange sight for you, miss?” asked a voice behind Marion.

The young girl turned quickly and confronted an elderly woman.

“It is, indeed,” said Marion promptly, “and it is about the saddest sight that I ever dreamed of,” she added.

“Are you a nurse?” asked the woman again in a courteous manner.

“Not yet,” answered Marion, “but I am accepted on probation. I am on my way to the Charity Hospital.”

The woman looked at her kindly, but Marion’s gaze was wandering. She was trying to realize her extraordinary surroundings.

“Those are ‘ten-day’ men,” said the woman, as she saw Marion staring at two of the deck hands on the steamer. “In other words, they have been sent up for ten days and are allowed to work on the boat.”

Marion opened her eyes in absolute surprise. She had never before heard of such an arrangement.

“Why, that is ever so much better than keeping them shut up,” she said, quickly. “Poor fellows! I am sorry for them. They haven’t all got bad faces.”

“And they are not all bad; now,” said the woman again. “I can assure you, I have many good friends among the prisoners.”

Marion turned and looked at her with interest. She seemed to be both a refined and an intelligent person.

“I am a Bible reader,” said the woman, smiling. “I visit some of the islands every day, and my principal duty is to read the Bible to the prisoners.”

Marion’s smile changed instantly into an expression of wonderment.

“Do they like that, madam?” she asked, a little bluntly.

“Some of them do,” said the woman, with a peculiar laugh, “but some are very hardened. I can hardly get them to listen.”

“Well, I don’t wonder,” said the girl, with a heavy sigh. “I should think that some parts of the Bible would make them feel decidedly uncomfortable. Of course, there are many classes of criminals,” she added, quickly. “There are those who sin through weakness and those who are deliberately vicious. Then, of course, there are the others who sin almost from necessity.”

The woman looked at her in a little surprise. She had not expected so young a girl to be so serious on this subject.

“The good Word comforts each of these classes,” was her only answer. “If they are truly sorry they will be forgiven.”

Marion’s next remark showed that she was thinking more than listening.

“Society is all to blame,” she said, very soberly. “If conditions were right, there would be very few criminals, and none, I am sure, of the last class I mentioned. If you could only read the Bible to our lawmakers, madam, and to the rich men and women who are mighty and all powerful.”

The woman smiled and looked at her curiously.

“Perhaps you are right,” she said, after a minute, “but we should rise above conditions and not be slaves to them.”

“That is easier said than done,” said Marion, sharply. “When a man’s strength is deficient he is not to blame for it.”

“They should have prayed for strength,” said the woman, devoutly, “and at any rate they should not have fallen into sin. It is their own fault that they are here doing penance for their wickedness.”

“Well, I am very sorry for them, anyway,” replied Marion, quickly, “and I sincerely hope that you are able to comfort them, madam. To me they look like poor creatures who have never had half a chance. No doubt they would all have been honest if they could have earned decent livings.”

She turned abruptly on her heel and walked away. Some way, it vexed her to hear this woman blaming the poor creatures.

“Probably she was never hungry or in want in her life,” she thought, angrily, “so what can she know of the temptations they have suffered?”

This glimpse of misery was making Marion depressed already. The faces of the men haunted her, they were so pinched and eager.

She wandered across the boat and stood looking over the water, her brain busy with the problems of how to help the poor creatures.

The woman did not come near her and Marion was glad of it. She wanted to be alone and do a little hard thinking.

“I may be wrong in pitying them, but I can’t help it,” she thought. “I am sure the struggle of life has been too hard for many of them. I suppose that woman thinks I am a heathen, because I did not say I thought they deserved what they were getting.”

A light ripple of laughter relieved her over-strained tension and for the next few minutes the woman was forgotten.

Marion watched the prisoners land, with the guards beside them, and then as they marched slowly toward the penitentiary, she left the boat and started for the hospital.

It was all so strange, so almost alarming, this guarding and marching, that for a minute she felt a sense of oppression in her soul. It was as though she were breathing the air of a prison cell rather than the breath of sweet liberty, which was her rightful possession.