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Updated: June 15, 2025
He sat by the bedside of my former shipmate, and talked, and read to him, and prayed with him. His voice ceased. I saw him bending over Iffley. Slowly he turned round to me. "He is gone," he said in a low voice. "He placed his hope on One who is ready and able to forgive, and I am sure that he is forgiven." Captain Tooke promised to write to my wife to break to her the news of my wound.
As my uncle observed, they take a great deal of trouble and undergo great risk to obtain a very uncertain advantage. All the rest of the guests were gone; old Jerry remained behind. We told him what had occurred in the morning, and I asked him if he could find out anything about Charley Iffley; what was his rank, and to what ship he belonged.
I learned all these things from different people, do ye see, but putting this and that together, I made out my story as I tell it to you. To my mind, Charles Iffley is a man I would stand clear of. Depend on't, he's a deep one." Jerry Vincent stayed with us some time, and then he said he had an engagement and must go away.
It was indeed with little hope of ever again seeing it rise that we watched the sun sinking towards the western horizon. A look of blank, sullen despair was stealing over the countenances of most of the crew. Charley Iffley sat with his hands before him and his head bent down, without saying a word, and seemingly totally unconscious of what was taking place.
At last we got a fair breeze from the northward, though it was light, and we were congratulating ourselves that we should have a quick run to the westward. We had been standing on for a couple of hours or so, when I saw the master and mates looking out anxiously ahead. I asked Charley Iffley what it was they saw.
Mr Randolph was the name of the midshipman sent in charge of her. As I left the side of the Albion, I saw Charles Iffley looking out at one of the ports. His features bore more strongly than ever the marks of hatred and anger, and when he saw that I was for a time beyond his reach, he shook his fist at me with impotent rage.
"How do you know that?" he asked. "Mrs. Lester wrote to an aunt in Oxfordshire, a lady who lives in the village of Iffley, near the first lock on the Thames below Oxford. As it happened, this aunt, a Miss Beale, was lunching with a friend in Oxford today, and some one showed her an early edition of a London evening newspaper containing an account of the murder.
I visited, on my way to Thame, the old church of Iffley. I was attracted to it by the fine old Norman work it contains, which I found most quaint and picturesque. I slept at Thame for the night, and next day walked to Windsor. I arrived there at sunset, and had a fine view of the exterior of the castle and the surrounding buildings.
He came to my bed. I looked up in his face, and recognised in him my old friend and commander, Captain Tooke. He had left the sea, I found, and having a competence, thus employed himself in visiting hospitals, especially those which contained seamen, and in other works of a labouring Christian. I told him what had occurred between me and Iffley.
There is not on all the Thames a scene more loved by artists than that at Iffley, with its old mill and church embosomed in foliage, and having an occasional fisherman lazily angling in the smooth waters before them, while the Oxford oarsmen, some in fancy costumes, paddle by.
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