"The gentleman has lost the number of his mess, d'ye see, and it's an
onlucky thing to begin a new voyage with a corpse aboard."

"Ay, ay, Captain Weber," chimed in the rest, "we dare not set sail on
yonder sticks with never a keel beneath our feet, and only a rag of
canvas for sail, and that, too, with a corpse aboard."

The group of men were standing at the gangway, and the captain turned to
them, speaking in a loud voice.

"Your duty, Forrest, is to obey my orders. The ship is sinking under
our feet, but while a stick of her remains floating they shall be
obeyed. Do your duty."

The men turned, but seemed mutinous, and once more the muttered
conversation began, when, gliding down the ladder, Isabel stood among
them. She had heard what passed.

"I was wrong, Enrico; tell these brave men I was wrong. My father could
not have a nobler coffin than this. Speak to them, Enrico."

Hughes did so, and a hearty cheer was given by the crew.

"And now," said Captain Weber, greatly relieved, "we must leave the poor
old brig. Are you ready?"

"I would say good bye to my father, Enrico," murmured Isabel; "have we
time?"

The three entered the little cabin, the missionary having joined them,
and they stood for the last time by the side of the dead. A lamp burned
feebly, lighting up dimly the small bed where the body lay. The grey
hairs were carefully combed out, the eyes were closed, for a daughter's
hands had been busy there. The features wore a composed, but haughty
look, and one or two deep stains alone told of the violent nature of his
death.

Isabel sobbed bitterly, while the missionary prayed. The door opened,
and Captain Weber entered. Stooping over the dead form, Isabel
imprinted one long kiss on the cold lips, and, in an agony of grief,
cast herself into the soldier's arms.

"Enrico,--thou alone art left to me," she sobbed.

Captain Weber threw the broad folds of the Union Jack over the dead; the
light was left burning, and the party--Isabel sobbing as if her heart
would break--passed through the deserted cabin where the water was
already washing about, and, reaching the deck, went over the side on to
the raft. It was time, for the brig was very low in the water, and as
the captain stood on the gangway, the last man on deck, an explosion
took place below. It was the pent-up air forced by the increasing mass
of water to find an escape, blowing down the screens and bulkheads. The
old seaman raise