part I wanted to get over with the business as soon as possible. The

Skipper was going through all sorts of religious didos. I heard him mumbling part of the wedding service, mixed with the Declaration of Independence, which in those days we all thought it sacrilegious not to know. There was something holy about it to us, and it seemed very appropriate to me. But when the Skipper ended with "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust," I looked at the dark water which lapped against the boat and shook my head. The old man did not perceive it, and we rowed back to shore, I turning my head every now and then to see if the little spark of flame was still there.

At last we reached the beach, and glad enough was I when we had fastened the boat safely and had again climbed upward to the cavern. My coming in awoke the Bo's'n, for it was nearly morning now, still dark, but about half after three, as nearly as I could judge. The Skipper had left me at the entrance of the cave, saying that he wished to go round to the great hall which had for so long been the tomb of those dead men and offer up some prayers. I argued with him that it was not after the manner of Protestants to pray for the dead; but he turned away without more words, and I heard him scrambling up through the dark and solitary woods. I feared for the old man's mind; but I knew that nothing could turn him when once he took a notion into his head, so I entered the cave alone. The Bo's'n was yawning and stretching his arms placidly.

I was the only one to greet him as he awoke.

"At last," said I, "I shall be glad to lie down, Bo's'n. Don't you disturb me in the morning until I can't sleep any longer."

"Yes, Mr. Jones, sir," said he. "Mrs. Jones has been in asking for her Uncle, and when she saw that you wassent here, sir, she seemed much worried. She asked if any new comple--compli--Well, something or other had arose."

"Bo's'n," said I, "I'm awfully sleepy, but I believe I will tell you where I have been. You will be glad to know that one horror is removed from this unpleasant place."

"I shall, indeed, sir," said the Bo's'n, beaming upon me a joyful smile. "I shall be glad to hear any good news, Mr. Jones. What is it, sir? Do tell me." I was glad to be able to cheer this amiable soul, and, though overpowered with sleep, I began:

"Bo's'n, I was asleep a while back--yes, more than two hours ago--when the Skipper came and awoke me and proposed something."

"Yes, sir," said the Bo's'n interestedly.

"I was really too tired, and I thought of calling you to help me, but I reflected that you were as tired as I, so I said I would aid in anything he wanted to do."

"That was kind, sir," said the Bo's'n. "It was like you, Mr. Jones. You can sleep now. I will see that no one wakes you."

"So I went with him to----"

"Yes, sir, yes, sir," the Bo's'n hurried me on breathlessly. "I'm wide awake now, sir, Mr. Jones, and it's so pleasant to hear something good once more. But don't let me interrupt you, Mr. Jones. Do go on."

"You will be glad, I know, Bo's'n, and so will every one of our party, really glad. When I think of this night's work, I do not regret the wind, or the dark, or the drizzling rain." The Bo's'n looked at me with impatience. "Well, to return to the Captain, he came and asked me to help him bury the skeletons."

"THE WHAT!" roared the Bo's'n.

"Skeletons, the skeletons, and we took them down----"

"WHAT!" roared the Bo's'n again, in a tone somewhat between a squeal and a howl.

"And we buried them----"

"IN THE GROUND, I HOPE, SIR!"

"No, Bo's'n, in a much safer place than the ground. A purer, sweeter place, the place where poor Jack always wishes to lie. We buried them in the deep blue sea." My eye was moist, and I felt holy and poetic.

"WHAT--! WHAT----! WHAT----!" With each word the Bo's'n's scream became more wild.

"At sixty fathoms, I should think, Bo's'n."

Now there was a faint "What?"

I looked at the Bo's'n. He was doubled up as if he had been taken with the colic. His arms clasped round his knees, he was weaving back and forth as if the agony that he suffered was excruciating in its intensity, and I doubt not from my own later attack that it was. He writhed, he groaned, he weaved, he wailed like a new-born infant. He roared like a lion, he gnashed his teeth and howled, he wept scalding tears. He rolled over and over in the dust of the cavern floor. He clutched his hair. His body shook as if he were in a rigor.

"Bo's'n! Bo's'n!" I cried. "What is it? What can I do for you? There is a little rum left in the bottle--take this."

I seized the bottle and tried to force some drops down his throat; but he shook himself away from me, scrambled to the other side of the cave, where he squatted in a corner, and glared at me as if he were a wild beast, and as if I had been one, too.

"Bo's'n! Bo's'n!" I said to him encouragingly. But he sat doubled up in a heap, glowering at me with basilisk eye. He emitted at intervals howls of rage and pain, the like of which I had never heard equalled. I felt sure that he had suddenly gone out of his mind.

"What have you done to the poor man, Mr. Jones?" asked Cynthia.

I turned to see her standing there. Her hair had fallen down, and some of the wild fern of which we had made her bed was sticking in it, poor dear!

"Done to him? You forget yourself, Miss Archer."

She started as I addressed her. I turned again to the Bo's'n.

"I don't like your looking at me in that way, Bo's'n," said I.

Whereupon the Bo's'n leaped into midair with a howl and a gnashing of the teeth at me. They were swift, sharp snaps, that made me jump higher even than he did himself. I looked about for a place of refuge.

"They know a coward when they see one," said Cynthia. "They are just like animals for the time being." She approached the Bo's'n guardedly and held out her hand to him with a frightened look on her face.

"Here, Bo's'n, Bo's'n, good Bo's'n," she said, as if coaxing a dog.

"Better go away, ma'm. I'm afraid I'll bite," snapped the Bo's'n.

Cynthia jumped back with a little squeal.

"Come, no more of this nonsense!" said I.

"Get out!" said the Bo's'n.

"I don't like to have you speak so to me, Bo's'n," said I. "It isn't pleasant, and it isn't respectful."

"You'll find it a damned sight more disrespectful, sir, before I've done with you, Mr. Jones, sir," answered the Bo's'n.

"What is it, Bo's'n? Do tell me."

By this time the Bo's'n had his arms held tightly round his stomach, as if the pain was too great to bear. I walked across the floor of the cave and stretched out my hand to him, speaking in a soothing voice, and begging him to let me do something to make him easier.

"Don't come near me, Mr. Jones, sir," said the man. "I am afraid of what I shall do to you. I knew--I knew it! When you threw that--that--you know--in the water----"

"If there has been mischief done, Bo's'n, let me repair it," said I.

"Can you raise the dead?" asked the Bo's'n in tones sepulchral.

"You have driven the poor man crazy, Mr. Jones," said Cynthia.

I turned my back on her. I was very angry with the Bo's'n and with her.

"Can you plunge to the bottom of the sea and bring up them corpses?"

"No," said I; "of course not. Why should I?"

By this time the Bo's'n had stopped howling and had taken on the sarcastic tone.

"Hope you took a range, sir," said he, surveying me with the most utter scorn.

"Why should I take a range? It was pitch dark. You couldn't see your hand before your face. I don't know where we were. We rowed half an hour, as near as I can judge, and then, after we had buried them, we turned round and rowed back again."

By this time the Bo's'n had collapsed entirely; he lay on the floor without moving.

"Do let me do something for you, Bo's'n," said Cynthia.

At this the Bo's'n rose to a sitting posture.

"What you can do for me, Mrs. Jones, ma'm, is to go back to your room and stay there."

"O Bo's'n!" said Cynthia, who had never been accustomed to find her presence unwelcome.

"I can only pity you, ma'm, for havin' wrecked your young life on such a wuthless scandal as him."

Cynthia started, and looked at me as if the Bo's'n knew more if he only chose to tell.

I turned to the Bo's'n, much enraged.

"Go quick, please, ma'm, I want to swear, and I can't wait many minutes." Cynthia fled. Then the Bo's'n turned to me:

"Will you pardon me, sir, if I say, 'Damn you, Mr. Jones!'?"

I gazed in amaze at the usually placid Bo's'n.

"You will have to damn the Captain, too, then," said I. "He planned the expedition, and I only helped him carry it out."

"I hope he'll come in while I'm a blasphemin'," said the Bo's'n. "I shall want him to get his full share."

The Captain had been standing in the shadow of the entrance listening to the Bo's'n's ravings. He now entered and approached the man.

"What's the matter with him?" he said, looking at me. "He's been working his jawing tackle for the last ten minutes steady."

"I think his case is serious, Captain," said I. "I really think he's lost his mind. He's been rolling round here like a madman."

The Captain turned his gaze on the Bo's'n.

"You said you hoped I'd come in," said he. "Now don't put any stopper on that jawing tackle of yours; go right on. I shall know how to fix you, for it's mutiny, Mr. Bo's'n, and so you'll find out, rank mutiny!"

"Oh, is it?" said the Bo's'n, with stony face and glittering eye.

The Bo's'n raised his finger in air and shook it at me. He then took a long breath and began, his hand shaking alternately at me and at the Skipper.

"Damn you, sir, and damn you, sir, and damn you, sir, and damn you again, sir! Do you hear me damning you, Mr. Jones, sir? And that damn Cap'n, too, sir. Do you know what you done, sir, damn you? Do you know that all those watches, and all those sparklers, and all those rings, and all those chains, those emerals, and rubies, and saffirs, and tuppazes, and diminds, and jools you said was worth a king's ransom--all, all, all was inclosed and enwrapped and encompassed and secreted in them damn carcasses?" I fell upon the ground and writhed worse than the Bo's'n had done.