Land Of The Leal. James Barke

Ramsay. Yesterday-like … just yesterday … Money didn’t matter when you thought it out. It helped: no doubt about that. But it couldn’t keep the breath in you. That was one thing it couldn’t do, even if the barns were filled to the balks with golden sovereigns …

      Cortorfin ruminated on the purpose of life and the signficance of death as he had ruminated many a time. But it was all mystery and darkness – there was no illumination: there was no answer to the riddle. A queer way it was for man and beast to be made and then to come into the world – damned queer – and not what anybody in their senses would call dignified. But there it was … and then death came and you were struck down – both man and beast. And the beast knew when death was coming – the beast knew even better than man …

      Maybe when all was said and done God did know His own business best. Maybe there was a purpose and significance in everything that was beyond the understanding of man. Certainly it was beyond his. Andra Ramsay had been a decent God-fearing man. Maybe he did take a dram whiles – but what was the odds in that? He’d had a sore life. Nothing much of kindness or the world’s gear: and a bitch of a wife. But he had never done anybody in Kirkcolm an ill-turn where he could do them a good turn. And now …? It was hard to understand and harder to thole – but tholed it would need to be.

      He turned his back on the sea and roused David Ramsay.

      He would take him home and give him a drop of spirits and get the wife to make him a good hot gruel. He might have done more for Andra Ramsay when he was living – but he wouldn’t break faith with him now that he was dead. He would stand by the boy as he had promised.