The sin-eater
the joy of set pieces in O'Brian and Conan Doyle. the Hoodoo.
'I have a curious case in the sick-bay,' he said to James, as they sat digesting figgy-dowdy with the help of a glass of port. 'He is dying of inanition; or will, unless I can stir his torpor.'
'What is his name?'
'Cheslin: he has a hare lip.'
'I know him. A waister—starboard watch—no good to man or beast.'
'Ah? Yet he has been of singular service to men and women, in his time.'
'In what way?'
'He was a sin-eater.'
'Christ.'
'You have spilt your port.'
'Will you tell me about him?' asked James, mopping at the stream of wine.
'Why, it was much the same as with us. When a man died Cheslin would be sent for; there would be a piece of bread on the dead man's breast; he would eat it, taking the sins upon himself. Then they would push a silver piece into his hand and thrust him out of the house, spitting on him and throwing stones as he ran away.'
'I thought it was only a tale, nowadays,' said James.
[More on sin-eaters.]