e truth, I was thinking that sharks are good enough for
them."

"They deserve no better, Tom, and I think we may as well get rid of them
first. The tide's running out strong and we won't have them knocking
about for long."

So it was done as we said, and carrying them by the feet and shoulders
to the edge of the bluff--George, and Silly Theodore, and the nameless
giant who had knocked me down so opportunely--we skilfully flung them
in, and they glided off with scarce a splash.

"See that fin yonder!" cried Tom eagerly; and next minute one of the
floating figures was drawn under. "Got him already!" (with a certain
grim satisfaction). "That's what I call quick work."

Then we turned to the poor captain, and carried him as gently as we
could over the rough ground to the biggest of the banana holes, as the
natives call them, and there we were able to dig him a fairly
respectable grave.

"Do you know the funeral service, Tom?" I asked.

"No, sar, can't say as I do, though I seem to have heard it pretty
often."

"Wait a minute. I've got a Bible aboard, I'll go and get it."

"I'd rather go with you, sar, if you don't mind."

"Why, you're surely not frightened of the poor fellow here, are you,
Tom?"

"Well, sar, I don't say as I'm exactly that; but somehow he seems kind
of lonesome; and, if you don't mind--"

So we went off, and were back in a few moments with the Bible, and I
read those passages, from Job and the Psalms, immemorially associated
with the passage of the dead:

_"Man, that is born of woman, is of few days, and full of trouble. He
cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: He fleeth also as a shadow,
and continueth not--;_ and again:

_Behold Thou hast made my days as a hand-breadth: and mine age is as
nothing before Thee: Verily every man at his best state is altogether
vanity. Surely every man walketh in a vain show: surely they are
disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall
gather them. When Thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, Thou
makest his beauty to consume away like a moth: surely every man is
vanity. Have mercy, O Lord, and give ear unto my cry: hold not thy peace
at my tears, for I am a stranger with Thee, and a sojourner, as all my
fathers were--."_

And, by the time we had got to the end, our tears were falling like rain
into a brave man's grave.

CHAPTER X

_In Which Tom and I Seriously Start in Treasure Hunting._

Tom and Sailor a