The Royal banners forward go,
  The Cross shines forth in mystic glow;
  On which the One Who in our flesh was made
  Our sentence bore, our ransom paid.

When the crosses had been put in place the Prefect made a speech, saying among other things, “Now afar over Hongkong and its harbor where it may be seen not only by all the people who dwell here but also by those who come in ships from far distant ports shines the sign of Our Lord.”  Of all that the head of the order of missioners said on this occasion this impressed little Willy most, and when the celebration was over the small acolyte went to Father Somazzo and said:  “Father, the Apostolic Prefect said that the cross on the cathedral could be seen from all the ships that come into the harbor.  From the cross can you see all the ships?”

“Yes, certainly, Willy,” he answered.  “From all the ships, streets, open squares, and hills round about from which the cross is visible, any and all those places are visible from the dome on which the cross stands.”

“Oh, then, Father, let me climb up.  It is not dangerous.  The ladders are fastened tightly to the scaffolding, and the scaffolding is so strong that it will hold big men.  Yesterday at recess Joseph almost climbed up; he would have gone to the very top, if the Prefect had not seen him and called him down.  O Father, don’t frown so at me, but let me go.  I want so much to see whether my father’s ship has come.  He wrote that he would be here before the New Year, and I would know his ship at a glance from the golden picture of holy Saint George that’s on the bow.  Please, Father, please.”

Father Somazzo shook his head and said:  “The ship is too far away for you to see what is painted on the bow, and besides it is too dangerous for you to climb up there.  You might get dizzy and fall, and what would your father say if he were to come here and find you a corpse, or with your legs and arms broken?”

“Oh, but Father, I do not get dizzy.  I have often been up on the rigging of the ‘Saint George’, in the crow’s nest, and even on the very highest yard.  I know every bit of the rigging of the ship.  O Father, let me climb up right now.”

The teacher looked at Willy earnestly and raised his finger chidingly.  “Willy,” he said, “you’ve got that stubborn little head of yours set again.  How often have I told you that it is not becoming for you to insist on having your own way.  No, you cannot climb up to the dome under any circumstances.  I forbid it.”

With that Father Somazzo left the small boy standing in the garden and followed the other missioners into the house.  Willy looked about him, half frightened, half defiant, and giving his cap a jerk down over his curly yellow hair muttered, as he glanced at the shining cross:  “I will climb up there, and he can punish me if he likes.  Let him catch me first.”