Christie, the Kings Servant | Page 8

had been making that horrible noise might find some other
employment to-morrow, and might leave me in peace.
The next day my wishes were fulfilled, for I was not disturbed, and
very little happened except that my picture made progress. Then came
two wet days, on which I had to paint in my little chamber, and did not
get back to my seat under the wall.
I saw a good deal of Duncan during those wet days. He would come
and sit beside me as I painted, and would tell me stories of storms and
shipwrecks, and of the different times when the lifeboat had been sent
out, and of the many lives she had saved.
'Have ye seen her, sir? You must go and have a look at our boat; she
lies in a house down by the shore, as trim and tight a little boat as you
could wish to see anywhere!'
'I suppose you've been in many a storm yourself, Duncan,' I said.
'Storms, sir! I've very near lived in them ever since I was born. Many
and many's the time I've never expected to see land again. I didn't care
so much when I was a young chap. You see, my father and mother
were dead, and if I went to the bottom there was nobody, as you might
say, to feel it; but it's different now, sir, you see.'
'Yes,' I said, 'there's Polly and little John.'
'That's just where it is, sir, Polly and little John, bless 'em; and all the
time the wind's raging, and the waves is coming right over the boat, I'm
thinking of my poor lass at home, and how every gust of wind will be
sweeping right over her heart, and how she'll be kneeling by little
John's bed, praying God to bring his daddy safe home again. And I

know, sir, as well as I know anything, that when God Almighty hears
and answers her prayer, and brings me safe to land, Polly and little
John will be standing on yon rocks a-straining their eyes for the first
sight of the boats, and then a-running down almost into the water to
welcome me home again. Yes, it makes a sight o' difference to a
married man, sir; doesn't it, now? It isn't the dying, ye understand, it's
the leaving behind as I think of. I'm not afraid to die,' he added humbly
and reverently, as he took off his oilskin cap. 'I know whom I have
believed.'
'You're a plucky fellow, Duncan,' I said, 'to talk of not being afraid to
die. I've just been at a death-bed, and--'
'And you felt you wouldn't like to be there yourself,' Duncan went on,
as I stopped. 'Well, maybe not, it comes nat'ral to us, sir; we're born
with that feeling, I often think, and we can no more help it than we can
help any other thing we're born with. But what I mean to say is, I'm not
afraid of what comes after death. It may be a dark tunnel, sir, but
there's light at the far end!'

[Illustration]
Chapter IV
WHAT ARE YOU?
On Saturday of that week the sun shone brightly, and I was up betimes,
had an early breakfast, and set to work at my picture as soon as possible.
I had not been painting long before I again heard voices above me, the
same childish voices that I had heard before.
'You give it to him,' said one voice.
'No, Marjorie, I daren't; you take it.'
'You ought not to be afraid, because you're a boy,' said the first speaker;
'father says boys ought always to be brave.'

'But you're big, Marjorie, and big people ought to be braver than little
people!'
There was a long, whispered conversation after this, and I could not
distinguish the words which were spoken. But presently a small piece
of pink paper was thrown over the wall, and fluttered down upon my
palette. I caught it up quickly, to prevent it from sticking to the paints,
and I saw there was something printed on it. It ran thus:--
There will be a short service on the shore on Sunday Morning at 11
o'clock, when you are earnestly requested to be present.
Subject: WHAT ARE YOU?
'Thank you,' I said aloud. 'Who sent me this?'
There was no answer at first, then a little voice just above me said,
'Both of us, sir.'
'Come down and talk to me,' I said; 'I can't talk to children whom I can't
see. Come out here and look at my picture.'
They came out presently hand in hand, a little girl of five in a blue
tam-o'-shanter cap, a pale pink frock, and a white pinafore, and a boy of
three, the merriest,