THE FIERCE STORM that had brought destruction and death to ships and their passengers and crews in the Western approaches to the British Isles blew itself out during the following night, leaving an uneasy calm along the coastline that had suffered such a battering.
Returning to the Trethevy rectory the next day, Reverend David Kilpeck strode into the kitchen where Alice was seated eating a light lunch. Beaming at his sister and before she had a chance to say anything to him, he said, ‘What a delightful drive I have had from Tavistock, Alice, one could almost feel the storm had washed the sins of the world away and brought new life to everyone. What is more, I had a most successful meeting with Reverend Carter and … oh, I have so much to tell you! But first I will have something to eat. The drive in the fresh air has made me quite hungry. I trust you had a peaceful time in my absence and that the storm did not affect Trethevy too badly?’
Alice thought of all that had happened during the two days and nights of his absence and of the four able-bodied men from the Tintagel poorhouse who were at this very moment digging a mass grave in the small piece of enclosed ground behind Trethevy’s tiny church. She felt guilty that she was about to destroy the sense of well-being with which her brother had returned to the rectory.
‘I have rather a lot to tell you, David. I think you should sit down before I begin.’
David looked surprised, but did as she suggested then listened with increasing shock and dismay to what Alice had to tell him about the storm, its impact upon the people of his parish and of the now semi-conscious girl lying in the spare bedroom upstairs in the rectory. Finally and with some hesitation now there had been time to reflect on her actions, she told him of the bodies washed up in the small cove below Trethevy and which were now lying in the church. His church!
When she came to an end, David looked at her with an expression of disbelief on his face. Struggling to find words to express his feelings, he eventually said, in a strangled voice, ‘You mean there are bodies … dead people laid out in my church?’
‘That’s right, six men and a woman, all victims of a shipwreck. It is very, very sad.’
Seemingly still in a state of shock, David asked, ‘What on earth were you thinking about, Alice? Quite apart from any other considerations at this moment the church is not fit to keep animals in, let alone lay out bodies – and what am I supposed to do with them now?’
‘Give them a Christian burial,’ Alice said firmly, with renewed conviction that her actions were justified, ‘In the plot of land behind the church that looks as though it might once have been a burial ground.’
‘We can’t be certain it was ever a burial ground, or that it was consecrated. We could be breaking any number of ecclesiastical laws by burying them there, Alice.’
‘Possibly,’ agreed Alice, defiantly, ‘but would you rather they had been buried in shallow graves in the sand down at the cove – or the tide allowed to take them back out to sea again, because that is what was going to happen had I taken no action? This way they will be laid to rest with your blessing and our prayers.’
‘There are also a great number of practical issues to be taken into consideration,’ David persisted. ‘Expenses for coffins, pall bearers and grave-diggers … why, there is not enough money in the church coffers to pay for a flagon of Communion wine, let alone a number of funerals!’
‘That has all been taken care of,’ Alice said triumphantly, refusing to concede a single point to her brother’s arguments, ‘The poorhouse master has produced the gravediggers – they are digging a mass grave at this very moment – and the coffins have been provided from the poorhouse store, paid for in a Christian gesture by the Royal Navy lieutenant in charge of the local coast guard. His men have also offered their services as bearers, free of charge.’
David realised that Alice had thought the matter of the burial of the shipwreck’s victims through thoroughly, but he was not used to making snap decisions on matters likely to result in controversy.
‘This is all most irregular, Alice. I do wish you had waited to consult me before making decisions that were not yours to make.’
‘You were not available when they needed to be made,’ Alice replied decisively, aware that she had won the argument, ‘and a decision needed to be reached immediately if the victims were to be given a Christian burial.’
Knowing his sister as he did, David was aware that nothing he could say would make her change her mind. He had no alternative but to accept the arrangements she had made for the interment of the shipwreck victims.
‘Were any survivors able to identify those who are to be buried?’ He asked. Resignedly.
Alice shook her head, ‘There is only one survivor, a girl named Eliza. It seems she was taken on at the last minute as a maid to one of the very few passengers on board the vessel. She apparently knew none of the crew, or indeed any of her fellow passengers and with all that has happened to her she is thoroughly confused. She is upstairs now, in one of the spare rooms. Eliza suffered a nasty injury and was unconscious for a great many hours. Nevertheless, she is a very lucky girl. Lieutenant Kendall, the officer in charge of the coast guards, says as many as seven ships were wrecked on the Cornish coast alone during the storm – and he has heard of another on Lundy Island. It seems it was the worst storm in living memory hereabouts.’
Determined to rid himself of the unchristian relief he felt that more of the storm’s victims had not been washed ashore in his parish, David said, ‘Well, as you have made the burial of these unfortunate people a fait accompli for me, I had better find out how soon the gravediggers will complete their task and make the necessary arrangements for a simple graveside burial service to be held. When I return to the rectory I will go upstairs to meet your rescued girl – and tell you my news. That too is going to involve considerable extra work, but it will bring in extra money for us and so is good news.’
‘I am sorry, David, so much has been going on here that I haven’t even asked how your visit to Reverend Carter went. I’ll come with you to the church and on the way you can tell me all about it.’
Even though he knew he was being entirely unreasonable, David was unable to entirely hide the disappointment he felt that his own news had been overshadowed by all that had been going on here during his absence.
‘It is quite all right, Alice, I feel you have coped incredibly well on your own during what must have been an appalling and traumatic experience and you are needed here to take care of your patient. My news will keep for a quiet moment, when I will tell you all about my meeting with Emmanuel Carter. All I will say for now is that he has asked me to stand in for him as curate of Tintagel, with a salary that, while small, will enable you to take on a housemaid and help us both enjoy a less frugal lifestyle.’