, where I found the doctor
and the third mate examining poor Griffith's body. It was
half-past-six o'clock in the morning, and the daylight strong, but none
of the passengers were moving. The captain had been stabbed to the
heart. The doctor said he had been killed by a single thrust. The body
was clothed in white drill trousers and a white linen shirt, which was
slightly stained with blood where the knife had pierced it.

Who had done this thing? It was horrible, unprovoked murder!
throughout the ship the captain had been the most popular man on
board. The forecastle liking for him was as strong as sentiment of any
sort can find expression in that part of a vessel. There had never
been a murmur. Indeed I had never sailed with a better crew. Not a man
had deserted us at Sydney and of the hands on board at least half had
sailed with the captain before.

We carefully searched the cabin, but there was nothing whatever to
tell us that robbery had been committed. However, a ghastly, shocking
murder had been perpetrated; the man on whose skill and judgment had
depended the safety of the ship and the many lives within her had been
foully done to death in his sleep by some mysterious hand, and we
determined at once upon a course.

First, I sent for some of the best and most trustworthy seamen amongst
the crew, and bringing them into the captain's cabin, showed them the
body. I then, in my capacity as commander of the vessel, authorised
them to act as a sort of detectives or policemen, and to search every
part of the ship and all the berths in the steerage and 'tween-decks
for any clue to the doer of the deed. It was arranged that the cabins
of the first-class passengers should be thoroughly overhauled by the
second and third mates.

All this brought us to the hour when the passengers arose, and the
ship was presently alive. The news swept from lip to lip magically; in
all parts of the ship I saw men and women talking, with their faces
pale with consternation and horror. I had not the courage to break the
news to Miss Le Grand, and asked the doctor, a quiet, gentlemanly man,
to speak to her. I was on the poop looking after the ship when the
doctor came from the young lady's berth.

"How did she receive the news?" said I.

"I wish it may not break her heart," said he, gravely. "She was turned
into stone. Her stare of grief was dreadful--not the greatest actress
could imagine such a look. There'll be no comforting her this