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Updated: May 25, 2025
Matravers lifted him into the cab, and turned to the frightened nurse-girl for the address. "Nine, Greenfield Gardens, West Kensington, sir," she told him; "and please tell the master it wasn't my fault. He is so venturesome, I can't control him nohow. His name is Drage Freddy Drage, sir." And then once more Matravers felt that strange dizziness which had come to him earlier in the day.
In noting the death of a boy whom his parents believed bewitched, he wrote, "Oh that they saw the lords hand." Diary, I, 287. Compare Drage, op. cit., 36, 39, 42, with The Lord's Arm Stretched Out, 17. Mary Hall, whose cure Drage celebrates, had friends among the Baptists.
The man's face grew black. "Not till I'm dead," he said doggedly. "I don't want him set against me! He's all I've got! I'm going to keep him for a bit. It ought not to be so difficult for us to live. If only I could get down to the city for a few hours!" "Could not a friend there do some good for you?" Matravers asked. "Of course he could," Mr. Drage answered eagerly; "but I haven't got a friend.
I can't read anything but newspapers; and lately I haven't dared to spend a penny, because of Freddy, you know! It's so cursed lonely!" "I will come, and I will bring you something to read," Matravers promised. "I must go now!" John Drage held out his hand wistfully. "Good-by," he said. "You're a good man! I wish I'd been like you. It's an odd thing for me to say, but God bless you, sir."
John Drage did not doubt his good fortune for a moment. No one ever looked into Matravers' face and failed to believe him. "I I'll thank you some day," he murmured. "You've done me up! Will you shake hands?" He held out a thin white hand. Matravers took it between his own. In a few moments they were absorbed in figures and explanations. Finally the book was passed over to Matravers' keeping.
The hold My provisions become exhausted A fresh attempt at escape Pressed by hunger, I persevere The spar-deck Not out yet A ray of light My prostrate condition My mind gives way A curious trio The main hatchway Fresh difficulties arise A last effort I am rescued Ghost of a ghost I make a new friend and meet with an old one The crew of the ship My new quarters I receive a piece of advice from my new friend Mark's adventures, and how he came aboard the "Emu" Poor Jack Drage Mark gets into trouble.
I never have a visitor, and it does me good to talk." Matravers took the only unoccupied chair, and drew it back a little into the darker part of the room. "You remember me then, Drage," he remarked. "Yet it is a long time since our college days." "I knew you directly I heard your voice, sir," the man answered.
That's what makes it so odd, your doing all this for me. I can't understand it, I'm damned if I can!" Matravers stood over him, a silent, unresponsive figure, seeking only to make his escape. With difficulty he broke in upon the torrent of words. "Will you do me the favour, Mr. Drage," he begged earnestly, "of saying no more about it. Any man of leisure would have done for you what I have done.
You came and sat down and smoked one of my cigars, and talked just as though we were friends, and tried to make me see what a fool I was. It didn't do much good in the end but I never forgot it. You shook hands with me when you left, and for once in my life I was ashamed of myself." "I am sorry," Matravers said with an effort, "that I did not go to see you oftener." Drage shook his head.
My father belonged to the sect of Calvinists. Our home was hideous, and we were poor. Any release from it was welcome. John Drage, the man whom I married, had one good quality. He was generous. He bought me pictures, and books things which I always craved. When my father's command came, it did not seem a hardship. I married him. He was not so much a bad man, perhaps, as a weak one.
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