"Please don't be silly. There was a photograph."
"Ah, to be sure."
"You can help me—help us all—if you will."
"Is it about Fritz?"
She bent her head and signed to me to open the gate. Across the high-road a stile faced us, and a little church, with an acre framed in elms and set about with trimmed yews. She led the way to the low and whitewashed porch, and pushed open the iron-studded door. As I followed, the name of Van der Knoope repeated itself on many mural tablets. Almost at the end of the south aisle she paused and lifted a finger and pointed.
I read—
Sacred
To the Memory of
Fritz Opdam De Keyser van ver Knoope
A Midshipman of the Royal Navy
Who was born Oct. 21st mdccclxvii.
And Drowned
By the Capsizing of H.M.S. Viper
off the North Coast of Ireland
On the 17th of January mdccclxxxv.
A youth of peculiar promise who lacked
but the greater indulgence of
an all-wise Providence
to earn the distinction of his forefathers
(of whom he was the last male representative)
in his Country's service
in which
he laid down his young life
Heu miserande puer! Si qua fata aspera rumpas
Tu Marcellus eris.
