THE FACE ON THE WALL
"It's a long story," said Kit.
The Parson took him by the arm, and led the way into the kitchen.
It was more like a guard-room than a parlour. Clearly no woman reigned
here. All was wood, or stone, or steel, clean as a ship, and as
comfortless. Arms on the wall; iron-barred windows; no carpets, no
curtains, no fal-lals.
The only soft thing in the room was the bed in the corner, piled high
with clothes; the only ornament a print above the chimney-piece.
"It looks more like a fort than a kitchen," whispered Kit, awed.
"Ah, thereby hangs a tale!" replied the Parson.
He drew up before the face on the wall.
"You know who that is?" he asked, one hand on the boy's shoulder.
Kit laughed.
It was the face that had hung in old Ding-dong's cabin, that was
hanging at that hour in thousands of English homes.
"A Colonel of Marines," continued the Parson--"Nelson by name."
[Footnote: In 1795 Nelson was appointed Honorary Colonel of Marines in
recognition of his services in the Mediterranean.]
"Indeed," said the boy ironically. "I'd a notion he was a sailor."
The other made no answer. Indeed he did not hear. He stood before the
print, worshipping it.
"Every night and morning I say my prayers before that picture," he
continued quietly, all the laughter out of his voice. And there was
something profoundly stirring about the solemnity with which he added,
"If it's God's will that our country shall be saved, there is the man
will save it!"
The boy looked up at him.
"Sir," he said, "Nelson will save the country, if we can save Nelson."
IV
THE GARRISON