s deposited slowly, with his feet pointing at an open
port. A swell had set in from the westward, and following on the roll of
the ship, the red ensign, at half-mast, darted out and collapsed again
on the grey sky, like a tongue of flickering fire; Charley tolled the
bell; and at every swing to starboard the whole vast semi-circle of
steely waters visible on that side seemed to come up with a rush to the
edge of the port, as if impatient to get at our Jimmy. Every one was
there but Donkin, who was too ill to come; the Captain and Mr. Creighton
stood bareheaded on the break of the poop; Mr. Baker, directed by the
master, who had said to him gravely:--"You know more about the prayer
book than I do," came out of the cabin door quickly and a little
embarrassed. All the caps went off. He began to read in a low tone, and
with his usual harmlessly menacing utterance, as though he had been for
the last time reproving confidentially that dead seaman at his feet. The
men listened in scattered groups; they leaned on the fife rail, gazing
on the deck; they held their chins in their hands thoughtfully, or, with
crossed arms and one knee slightly bent, hung their heads in an attitude
of upright meditation. Wamibo dreamed. Mr. Baker read on, grunting
reverently at the turn of every page. The words, missing the unsteady
hearts of men, rolled out to wander without a home upon the heartless
sea; and James Wait, silenced for ever, lay uncritical and passive under
the hoarse murmur of despair and hopes.

Two men made ready and waited for those words that send so many of our
brothers to their last plunge. Mr. Baker began the passage. "Stand by,"
muttered the boatswain. Mr. Baker read out: "To the deep," and paused.
The men lifted the inboard end of the planks, the boatswain snatched
off the Union Jack, and James Wait did not move.--"Higher," muttered
the boatswain angrily. All the heads were raised; every man stirred
uneasily, but James Wait gave no sign of going. In death and swathed up
for all eternity, he yet seemed to cling to the ship with the grip of
an undying fear. "Higher! Lift!" whispered the boatswain, fiercely.--"He
won't go," stammered one of the men, shakily, and both appeared ready
to drop everything. Mr. Baker waited, burying his face in the book, and
shuffling his feet nervously. All the men looked profoundly disturbed;
from their midst a faint humming noise spread out--growing louder....
"Jimmy!" cried Belfast in a wailing