He also insisted on putting food in their packs, entirely stripping his shelf. When Matthew demurred, he said:

‘The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof. And I can get plenty more, friend. There is only the labour of digging and bringing, and I have nothing to do with my time but work and watch and pray. If you are rested, and warmed and fed, I imagine you will want to be on your way. I will come with you to the place where we met.’

He talked rationally, of ordinary things, as they retraced their steps. Only when they came to the tide line did he break off and, after a pause, said abruptly:

‘I’ll pray for you, friend.’

Matthew said: ‘Thank you. And thank you for the food.’

‘Man does not live by bread alone.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Or by tinned meats, dug out of the earth. I wish you good fortune.’

‘And I you.’

‘God guards.’ He looked down over the fall and emptiness of the sea bed. ‘For the first heaven and the first earth were passed away,’ he said. ‘And there was no more sea.’