, 1909-06-17
CHAPTER XVII.
In Which We Bury Our Dead.

avn
In Which We Bury Our Dead.
Black smoke was already trailing
from out our funnel in ever increasing
voiume. the steadily revolving screw
was driving the yacht forward with
new power. and the only bit OF can
vas showing was the close-reefed jib,
left as an aid to the wheelsmen.
l searched the after-cabins thorough
ly for a copy of the Scriptures, or any
book containing the burial service.
One might possibly have been discov-
cred hidden away in the locked chests,
but | did not feel authorized to break
these open on such quest, and so re
turned to the deck with nothing to
guide me in the services to be con
Quoted. The boatswain, assisted by
two seamen, had prepared the bodies
for their last long voyage, and while
the crew gathered in a body on the
s~now-covered deck, the dead, shroudeG
beneath white sheets, were silently
borne forth from cabin and forecastle
and placed reverently upon planks
balanced across the rail.
l should greatly have preferred
Lady Darlington to remain below dur
ing the ceremonies. There is much de
preston about such burial scenes at
sea, especially so in our circumstances
and surroundings. But she insisted
upon being present. n so at the last
m | returned to the cabin and
escorted both her and Celeste to the
deck. II was a dismal, melancholy
scene. and | did not wonder at the
slight SILVER with which her ladyship
glanced about. The swiftly descending
snow. the whitened decks. trampled
beneath the feet of the men. the bare
spars overhead; the low-fying. dun
colored clouds; the gray, tumbling
waters: the low growl of the ice as
the waves battered its front; the ST
lent semicircle of men standing mo-
t%ionless except for their shutting feet:
and those two white.draped figures ly-
ing extended across the rail-all COM
bined to form a grim sea-picture the
memory of which can never dissolve.
Protected somewhat from the sharp
wine by the cabin the men had flung
aside their muffiers, so that their
weather-beaten faces, most of them
heavily bearded, were plainly revealed.
| could not but be impressed with the
motley crowd. as the lineaments of
negro, Kanaka. and every variety of
white degenerate were thus exposed.
Their uneasy. shutting feet. and the
Impotence depicted on their faces,
| aroused me to the requirements of the
moment. | advanced to the rail, stand
ing beside the corpse of the mate.
Lads" / said, soberly, when we
bury shipmates at sea there is a
solemnity about the simple ceremony
unknown to the land. Far away from
friends and home we give the body up
to the great ocean TO keep for eterni-
ty. Yet we are sailors. long accus-
toned to the vicissitudes and perils of
the deep; we have parted with ship
mates before in many seas. and not a
few among you look forward to the
time when comrades will be called
upon to perform a similar service of
respect over your bodies. Even now
we sail forward into great danger.
and zone among us can prophesy what
The morrow may bring of either life
or death. Yet the g Is the sailors
sepulcher. the oar of the great waves
his requiem. l am no sea preacher,
able to address you upon the here
after. or fitted to eulogize the spirits
of those whose bodies We are about to
bury. You desire nothing of the kind
Neither can | read over these forms
the usual burial service, for | can find
no book containing it on board. Is