is pleasant breakfast of so short a time before. Then weak,
but somehow feeling better, Chris lay in the cool while Amos found a
cold pool of water with which he bathed his friend's face, and then
sat fanning him without a word.
Chris must have dozed, for when he came to himself the light had
changed, and men were carrying a shapeless bundle wrapped in canvas to
a grave dug in the sand. Chris started up and joined the men gathered
solemnly about the grave, and as he searched among them, knew a great
sense of relief and joy when he saw, standing at the grave head, the
Captain and Mr. Finney. As Chris came up to them, Captain Blizzard was
speaking, a Bible in his hand.
"Men of the _Mirabelle_, by rights as captain of the vessel I should
read the burial service for Zachary Heigh, that met his death by
accident, boxes and crates killing him in the hold the way they did.
But," and the Captain scanned the tough weather-beaten faces near him
slowly, one by one, "you that helped to uncover him know what he meant
to do. We harbored a viper, men, who meant to destroy our ship and
cargo and leave us to who knows what fate? Had not the bung of that
keg of molasses above the lighted fuse most providentially fallen out
and the fuse been put out by the sirup, no doubt neither Mr. Finney
nor I nor the _Mirabelle_ would be here to tell the tale."
He paused again, but there was not a stir from his audience. From
under their dirty headkerchiefs or straggly unkempt hair, the men who
knew no other life but the sea, no happiness or danger unconnected
with it, never took their eyes from their captain.
"So, men," Captain Blizzard resumed, "the gunpowder that was meant to
be the end of our fine ship is now safe and out of harm's way, and the
traitor who intended this infamous deed has been dealt with by fate
and killed in a tomb of his own finding. Therefore, feeling as I do
for my ship and my men, I cannot bring myself to read the holy words
over this man who had no charity in his heart."
[Illustration]
Captain Blizzard handed the Bible to Ned Cilley and stood with his
hands behind him, nodding his head as if to stress his words.
"Yet," he said, "he is being buried far from home and kith or kin. It
is not proper that he should be left without even a token of
respect." He gestured with his plump hand to the Bible. "Do you settle
among yourselves who shall do the reading, but pardon me that I am so
small a man, that I cannot forgi
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