LITTLE JACK AND BIG JACK
I think Tom very much enjoyed that week at Runswick Bay. The more he saw
of the place the more he liked it. He and Duncan got on famously
together. They smoked together on a seat above the house, and Duncan
told him stories of shipwrecks and storms, whilst I sat painting just
below them.
One night he even persuaded Duncan to let him go out with him fishing,
and Duncan confided to me afterwards, 'That there friend of yours, sir,
he's a real handy chap; knows how to use his fingers, sir, and isn't
afraid of a drop of salt water neither.'
We came across Mr. Christie on the shore the very first time that we
went out together, and I introduced him as a friend of my mother whom I
had been delighted to find in this out-of-the-way place; and Tom talked
very pleasantly to him, and I think liked him.
'What is he doing here, Jack?' he said. 'He does not look like the rest
of them.'
'He is a lay-preacher,' I said.
'Whatever in the world is a lay-preacher?' said Tom laughing.
I did not answer, but called his attention to little Jack, who was
running along the shore after his red cap, which had been carried off by
a gust of wind.
'That's his little boy,' I said, 'and my namesake; they lived in my
father's parish in London, and Mr. Christie and his wife adored my
mother. It was seeing her photograph on the wall of their room which
made them discover who I was.'
'What a splendid little fellow!' said Tom as the child came up to us.
'So you are Jack, are you?'
'Yes, I'm little Jack, and he's big Jack,' said the boy roguishly,
looking at me.
I was not surprised that Tom made friends very quickly with my little
favourite, for he was wonderfully fond of children, and many were the
games which he and the two children had together whilst I was at work.
Every evening Tom and I walked together, and we explored all the country
for miles around. Sometimes we went by train and walked back by the
cliffs. The train seemed to land us at each station in the midst of
fresh beauty, and I came to the conclusion that Yorkshire was indeed,
what I had always been told by my mother, the most beautiful county in
England.
'Now, Jack,' said Tom on Saturday morning, 'we'll have a really good day
to-morrow. You won't want to paint, will you?'
'No,' I said hurriedly, 'I don't paint on Sundays.'
'All right,' he said, 'it's much the best plan; you come fresher to it
on Monday. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." That old
couplet must have been made for you, Jack. Well, then, let's see, where
shall we go? Suppose we make a long day of it, and go to Scarborough. We
must see Scarborough before we go home, must we not? We will go by the
early train, and come back as late as we can. The worst of it is there
are not so many trains to choose from on Sunday, but I daresay we shall
find one that will suit'; and, without saying another word, he went off
to my lodging for a _Bradshaw_.
What was I to do? A few weeks ago a Sunday spent in pleasure would have
been just what I should have chosen, and many a time had Tom and I been
up the river on Sunday together. There was hardly a place within easy
distance up the Thames which we had not visited in this way. But now I
felt very differently about these things. Sunday was my Master's own
day: every moment of it, I felt, must be consecrated to Him. No one had
talked to me about Sunday observance, but my conscience told me very
clearly what was right in the matter. Yet, although I had no doubt as to
what I ought to do in the matter, I am ashamed to say that for some time
I hesitated. Tom would be so terribly disappointed, I said to myself,
and he had been a good friend to me, and I did not want to vex him;
surely there would be no great harm in obliging him this once! Besides,
when I get to Scarborough I may have time to go to church, and then,
after all, where is the difference? I argued with myself; I shall take a
longer journey to church, that is all.
And then Tom came back, full of his plans for the day. He had already
settled the train we were to catch, and he told me that he looked
forward to seeing Scarborough immensely, as his mother had stayed there
a year ago, and she had told him it was the most beautiful
watering-place she had ever visited.
I tried to feel pleased with what Tom had arranged, but in my heart I
was very miserable, and just at that moment who should appear but
Marjorie and Jack, distributing the pink papers containing the
invitation to the service on the shore. I turned away when I saw them
coming. I looked towards the sea, and took my little telescope from my
pocket, that I might seem to be intent on watching a distant steamer.
What would Duncan say? What would Mr. Christie say? What would my little
friend Jack say, when I did not appear at the shore service? And how
shocked they would be when they heard I had gone off for a day's
pleasure!
I hoped that the children would pass us by, and would go to a large
group of fishermen standing on the shore just beyond us. But I was not
to escape thus. Marjorie came up to Tom and presented him with a paper,
and she was going to give one to me, but my little friend stopped her,
'No, no, Marjorie,' he said in his most fascinating tones, 'let me give
one to my own Mr. Jack. I always give you one my own self, don't I, big
Jack?'
I patted him on the head and took the paper, but I did not answer, and
the children passed on. Tom opened his paper and read it aloud,--
'"There will be a short service on the shore next Sunday morning." Oh,
indeed,' he said, 'that's what they're after, is it? Distributing
notices for some Methodist meeting. Is that where Christie holds forth?'
'Yes,' I said, 'he preaches every Sunday.'
'Well, Mr. Christie,' he went on, 'you won't have _me_ there to
hear you. I hate those canting meetings, don't you, Jack?
_Subject_. Ah, he tells us his subject beforehand, does he? Very
kind of him, I'm sure! _Subject: Where are you going_? Ah,' said
Tom, 'that's soon answered: I'm going to Scarborough, old fellow, and a
jolly good day I hope to have there'; and he threw the little pink paper
into the air, and the wind carried it far out to sea.
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All this time I had never spoken a word. A great battle was going on in
my heart. Conscience was speaking very loudly, and telling me that I
could not possibly take my pleasure on my Master's own day, but the
tempter's voice was arguing that the time to speak had not yet come, and
that perhaps for this once it would be better to yield to Tom's wishes,
and that I might talk to him quietly about it, and make a fresh start
after our return to London.
And so the day wore away, and evening came, and Tom had no idea whatever
that I had even hesitated about going with him to Scarborough. I never
spent a more unhappy day. I avoided Mr. Christie, lest he should say
anything to me about the service on the following day. I was not even
happy with Duncan. Tom had gone off to Saltburn, leaving me, as he
supposed, to put some finishing touches to my picture; but I had no
heart for painting, and only got my easel and painting materials out to
put them away again directly.
Polly was in good spirits that day, for little John was so much better
that he was able to sit on the floor and play, and, as I stood looking
out of my small casement window, I watched her washing up in a tub
standing on a wooden stool outside her door, and I heard her singing to
herself as she did so. Most of the visitors had left Runswick Bay now,
for it was late in the season, but the shore was covered with the
village children--boys and girls without shoes and stockings, wading in
the pools and running far out into the shallow sea. It was a pretty
sight, the grey, quiet water, the strips of yellow sand, and the cliff
covered with grass and flowers.
But I could not enjoy the scene that Saturday evening; even my artistic
eye, of which I used sometimes to boast, failed me then. I was feeling
thoroughly uncomfortable, and the most lovely view on earth would have
failed to charm me at that moment.
There is a verse in the Bible which says, 'A little child shall lead
them,' and whenever I hear that verse I think of that evening in
Runswick Bay. For I was still gazing out of my window, looking at I knew
not what, when I heard a well-known little voice just beneath me.
It was Jack. He had come down the hill beneath Duncan's cottage, so that
I had not seen him until he spoke to me below the window.
'Mr. Jack,' he said, 'what are you doing up there? Are you _very_
busy?'
'No, old man,' I said, 'I'm not busy.'
'Then _do_ come out, that's a dear, big Mr. Jack; I do want you so
much.'
Who could resist the pleading little face, and the pretty, fascinating
voice of that child? He would have a hard heart who could do so. I ran
downstairs, and a minute afterwards I was racing with Jack on the wet
sands, for the tide was fast going out, and was helping him to fly a
small kite which his father had bought for him in Whitby. We had a fine
time together on the shore, until at last a towel was hung out of the
top window in the Christies' house, as a sign that it was Jack's
bedtime. Though he was wild with joy and excitement, the obedient little
fellow at once stopped his play, and told me mother wanted him, and he
must go.
'I'm coming for you to-morrow morning, Mr. Jack,' he said.
'To-morrow morning, Jack?'
'Yes, for church,' said the child, putting up his dear little chubby
face to be kissed. 'Don't go without me, will you, Mr. Jack?'
'Well, I'm not sure I'm going to-morrow, little man,' I said
reluctantly, 'so you had better not call for me.'
'Not going to church!' said Jack, in a very shocked voice. 'Why not,
Mr. Jack?'
'I'm going to Scarborough for the day with my friend Tom,' I said.
'I shall go to church in Scarborough, Jack.'
I shall never forget the expression of that child's face as long as I
live; it was a mixture of surprise, sorrow and dismay. 'Mr. Jack, do you
know it's God's day to-morrow?' was all that he said, however; and as at
this moment his mother called him from the bedroom window, he ran off
without another word.
'Do you know it's God's day?' I asked myself when the little boy had
gone. 'Yes, I do know,' I answered aloud, 'and He is my Master, and my
Master's day shall be kept for Him and for His service.'
I walked to a lonely place on the shore where the sea had undermined the
cliff, and had made strange holes and caves, which could only be entered
at low tide. I clambered over the rocks, and crossed about half a mile
of slippery seaweed, until I came to one of these weird places. Creeping
inside, I felt myself safe from any human eye. I was alone--alone with
my Master.
I cannot tell you all that passed during the half-hour that I spent in
that lonely cave, but I know this, that I came out of it feeling that my
Master had indeed given me the strength for which I had pleaded, the
strength to act as His faithful and true servant.
I was waiting outside the station when Tom's train came in from
Saltburn. He had not expected to see me again that night, and seemed
pleased that I had come to meet him.
'I think we shall have a fine day to-morrow, old boy,' he said; 'what
a dew there is! My feet are quite wet with it.'
'Tom,' I said, 'I came to meet you to-night because I wanted to tell you
something. I am sorry, very sorry, to disappoint you, but I can't go
with you to-morrow.'
'Why ever in the world not, Jack?' he said. 'I thought you were so keen
on seeing Scarborough.'
'Yes, Tom,' I said, 'but I am still more keen on something else.'
'What's that?' he asked; 'do you mean Redcar? It's a stupid place, Jack:
nothing in the world to see, I assure you.'
'No, Tom, I don't mean that. I don't want to change our plan. I had
rather see Scarborough than any other place; I'll give myself a holiday
on Monday, and go with you gladly, Tom; but I can't go to-morrow.'
'Nonsense, Jack!' he said angrily. 'You _can_ go if you like;
what's to hinder you? If you are willing to go at all, why on earth
can't you go to-morrow?'
'Simply because to-morrow is Sunday, Tom.'
'And if it is Sunday, what of that?' said my friend. '"The better the
day, the better the deed," and it's ridiculous your talking in this
saintly way about Sunday, when to my certain knowledge you've spent
every fine Sunday boating on the river for the last two years or more.
No, no, my friend, that won't go down with me.'
'Tom,' I said, 'it's all quite true what you say. I have, I know I have,
spent my Sundays in boating or in taking my pleasure in some other way,
and I am more sorry for it, Tom, than I can tell you. But since I came
here--'
'Since you came here,' Tom interrupted me, 'you've gone and turned
Ranter or Methodist, or something of that sort, and you've got your head
full of all sorts of insane and ridiculous ideas.'
'Since I came here, Tom,' I said, taking no notice of his last remark,
'I have seen what I never saw before--that I am a great sinner; and I
have found what I never found before--that Jesus is a great Saviour.'
'Well, I wish you had never come to Runswick Bay, if this is the absurd
way you are going on, Jack, and after all the good old times we've had
together too.'
'And why shan't we have good times together still, dear old Tom?' I
said. 'I have entered the service of a new Master, that's all; and,
Tom,' I said timidly, 'I wish He was your Master too.'
Tom made no answer, but swung his stick round and round, and slashed at
the thistles and the ox-eye daisies which grew by the roadside. I tried
to make one or two remarks, but I saw he was very much upset by what I
had said, and he did not answer me. He was vexed with me, and perhaps he
was a little uncomfortable besides, and I felt it was far wiser to say
no more.
He did not speak again until we reached the hotel, and then he simply
said, 'Good-night, Jack, I'm sorry you've gone and made such a fool of
yourself'; and I went down the hill, feeling as if I had lost my friend,
and as if the old days and old companionship were dead and buried for
ever.
But if I had lost one friend, I felt I had gained another. Mr. Christie
was waiting for me at the bottom of the hill, and he proposed that we
should take a turn together on the shore. Nellie was expecting me to
supper, he said; he had told Duncan I was going there, and the moon was
coming out, and a good stretch on the sands would make us enjoy it all
the more.
We had walked across the bay, and were standing gazing out seawards,
when he suddenly put his arm in mine.
'What is it, Jack?' he said kindly, 'something is troubling you this
evening.'
'Yes, you are right,' I said. 'However did you know, Mr. Christie? I am
bothered a bit; the fact is, I'm ashamed of myself, I've been such a
coward.'
'What have you been doing, Jack? You don't mind telling me, do you?'
'Not at all, Mr. Christie, I would rather tell you,' I said; and then I
gave him an account of the last week, of my fear of Tom, and how very
nearly--I was ashamed to say it--I had yielded to him about the outing
to-morrow. Then I spoke of my friend, and I told him I was afraid I had
lost him through my plain speaking.
'Never mind, Jack,' he said, 'the Master must come first, and it does
happen very often that when He is put in His right place we have to give
up a great deal. He knew we should have to do it, and He spoke some very
plain words about it: "He that loveth father or mother more than Me is
not worthy of Me, and he that loveth son or daughter more than Me is not
worthy of Me." You would like to be worthy of Him, Jack?'
'I shall never be that, Mr. Christie,' I said.
'No,' he said; 'you are right, we are all unworthy of Him; but when we
love Him, we do long to do that which is pleasing in His sight. And,
remember, there is always the hundredfold, Jack, always the Master's
reward for anything we give up for Him.'
'Yes, in heaven,' I said softly.
'No, Jack, not in heaven, but on earth. Do you remember how the Master's
words run: "He shall receive an hundredfold _now, in this time_,
and in the world to come, life everlasting." The hundredfold is to be
enjoyed _here_, the everlasting life _there_.'
'I never noticed that before,' I said.
'I have proved it true, Jack, abundantly true. I sometimes think I have
got beyond the hundredfold. And then beyond, there lies the life
eternal.'
'My mother is enjoying that,' I said.
'Yes, indeed,' he answered; 'and her boy will enjoy it too in God's good
time, for does not the Master say of all those who belong to Him, "I
give unto them eternal life?" "I am come that they might have life, and
that they might have it more abundantly"?'
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