n the eyes of
Mrs. Cliff and Edna. In the heart of the latter was deep, deep pain, for
she knew what her husband was feeling at that moment. She knew it had
been the high aim of his sensitive and honorable soul that the gold for
which he had labored so hard and dared so much should safely reach, in
every case, those to whom it had been legally adjudged. If it should
fail to reach them, where was the good of all that toil and suffering?
He had in a measure taken upon himself the responsibility of the safe
delivery of that treasure, and now here he was standing, and there was
the treasure sinking before his eyes. As she stood close by him, Edna
seized her husband's hand and pressed it. He returned the pressure, but
no word was said.

Now the _Dunkery Beacon_ rolled more heavily than she had done yet, and
as she went down in the swell it seemed as if the water might easily
flow over her forward bulwarks; and her bow came up with difficulty, as
if it were sticking fast in the water. Her masts and funnel were
slanting far over to starboard, and when, after rising once more, she
put her head again into the water, she dipped it in so deep that her
rail went under and did not come up again. Her stern seemed to rise in
the air, and at the same time the sea appeared to lift itself up along
her whole length. Then with a dip forward of her funnel and masts, she
suddenly went down out of sight, and the water churned, and foamed, and
eddied about the place where she had been. The gold of the Incas was on
its way to the bottom of the unsounded sea.

Captain Hagar sat down upon the deck and covered his face with his
hands. No one said anything to him,--there was nothing to say. The first
to speak was Mrs. Cliff. "Captain Horn," said she, her voice so shaken
by her emotion that she scarcely spoke above a whisper, "we did
everything we could, and this is what has come of it!"

"Everything!" exclaimed Captain Horn, suddenly turning towards her.
"You have done far more than could be expected by mortals! And now,"
said he, turning to the little party, "don't let one of us grieve
another minute for the sinking of that gold. If anybody has a right to
grieve, it's Captain Hagar here. He's lost his ship, but many a good
sailor has lost his ship and lived and died a happy man after it. And as
to the cargo you carried, my mate," said he, "you would have done your
duty by it just the same if it had been pig lead or gold; and when you
have done