oughout all the afternoon the Captain had been drinking the whiskey
from the decanter found in the cabin; now he stood up unsteadily, and,
raising his glass, exclaimed:

"Sonny, here's to Kitchell, Wilbur & Co., beach-combers, unlimited. What
do you say, hey?"

"I only want to be sure that we've a right to the bark," answered
Wilbur.

"Right to her--ri-hight to 'er," hiccoughed the Captain. "Strike me
blind, I'd like to see any one try'n take her away from Alvinza Kitchell
now," and he thrust out his chin at Wilbur.

"Well, so much the better, then," said Wilbur, pocketing the papers. The
pair ascended to the deck.

The burial of Captain Sternersen was a dreadful business. Kitchell, far
gone in whiskey, stood on the house issuing his orders, drinking from
one of the decanters he had brought up with him. He had already rifled
the dead man's pockets, and had even taken away the boots and fur-lined
cap. Cloths were cut from the spanker and rolled around the body. Then
Kitchell ordered the peak halyards unrove and used as lashings to tie
the canvas around the corpse. The red and white flags (the distress
signals) were still bound on the halyards.

"Leave 'em on. Leave 'em on," commanded Kitchell. "Use 'm as a shrou'.
All ready now, stan' by to let her go."

Wilbur looked over at the schooner and noted with immense relief that
Moran was not in sight. Suddenly an abrupt reaction took place in the
Captain's addled brain.

"Can't bury 'um 'ithout 'is teeth," he gabbled solemnly. He laid back
the canvas and replaced the set. "Ole man'd ha'nt me 'f I kep' 's teeth.
Strike! look a' that, I put 'em in upside down. Nev' min', upsi' down,
downsi' up, whaz odds, all same with ole Bill, hey, ole Bill, all same
with you, hey?" Suddenly he began to howl with laughter "T' think a
bein' buried with y'r teeth upsi' down. Oh, mee, but that's a good
grind. Stan' by to heave ole Uncle Bill over--ready, heave, an' away she
goes." He ran to the side, waving his hat and looking over. "Goo'-by,
ole Bill, by-by. There you go, an' the signal o' distress roun' you, H.
B. 'I'm in need of assistance.' Lord, here comes the sharks--look! look!
look at um fight! look at um takin' ole Bill! I'm in need of assistance.
I sh'd say you were, ole Bill."

Wilbur looked once over the side in the churning, lashing water, then
drew back, sick to vomiting. But in less than thirty seconds the water
was quiet. Not a shark was in sight.

"Get over t' the '