Part 26 (1/2)

”Don't say that, for I've always been ready to do everything you wished me to do.”

”I know you have, Noddy; and you work so hard that I don't feel like asking you to do any extra labor.”

”I will do anything you wish, Mollie. You needn't be afraid to ask me, either. If you knew how much pleasure it gives me to work for you, I'm sure you would keep me busy all the time.”

”I don't wish to wear you out, and you may think this is useless work.”

”I'm sure I shall not, if you want it done.”

”If you knew how sad it makes me feel to think of my poor father lying in the water there, you would understand me,” added she, bursting into tears.

”I know what you mean, Mollie, and it shall be done the first thing to-morrow.”

”Thank you, Noddy. You are so good and so kind! I hope I shall see Miss Bertha, some time, and tell her what you have done for me,” continued she, wiping away her tears.

They retired to the forecastle soon after dark; and when Mollie had said her simple prayer for both of them, they lay down in the bunks, and were soon asleep.

Noddy's first work the next morning was to rig a mast and sail for the long-boat. In this labor he was a.s.sisted by Mollie, who sewed diligently on the sail all the forenoon. While she was thus engaged, Noddy, without telling her what he was going to do, went into the cabin, carrying a boat-hook, and, with a feeling of awe amounting almost to superst.i.tious terror, proceeded to fish up the body of Captain McClintock. He knew just where it lay, and had no difficulty in accomplis.h.i.+ng the task. He dragged the remains out into the cabin, and floated the corpse in the water to the foot of the ladder. It was an awful duty for him to perform; and when he saw the ghastly, bloated face, he was disposed to flee in terror from the spot.

Noddy was strong for his years, or he could not have placed the body on the locker, out of the reach of the water. He prepared the remains for burial precisely as those of Mr. Watts had been. The most difficult part of the task was yet to be performed--to get the corpse on deck, and lower it into the boat. He procured a long box in the hold, from which he removed the merchandise, and found that it would answer the purpose of a coffin. By much hard lifting, and by resorting to various expedients, he placed the remains in the box and nailed down the lid. He felt easier now, for the face of the corpse no longer glared at him.

When he had bent on the sail, and s.h.i.+pped the rudder, he contrived to set Mollie at work in the forecastle, where she could not see what he was doing; for he thought his work must be revolting to her feelings, especially as it would be very clumsily performed. Having put a sling on the box, he rigged a purchase, and hoisted it out of the cabin. Then, with suitable rigging, he lowered it into the boat, placing it across the thwarts, amids.h.i.+ps.

”Come, Mollie,” said he, in a gentle, subdued tone, at the fore-scuttle.

”What, Noddy?” asked she, impressed by his voice, and by his manner, as she came up from below.

”We will go on sh.o.r.e now.”

”To-day?”

”Yes; but we will return. The boat is ready, and I have done what you asked me to do.”

”What?”

”Your father.”

She was awed by his manner, and did not readily understand what he meant. He pointed to the long box in the boat, and she comprehended the loving labor he had performed. She did not inquire how he had accomplished the task, and did not think of the difficulties which attended it. Noddy did not allude to them.

”I am ready, Noddy; but can you get me the prayer-book?” said she, her eyes filling with tears, as she prepared to perform the pious duty which the exigencies of the occasion required of her.

The book was fortunately on a shelf to which the water had not risen, and he brought it up and gave it to her. He had before placed a pick and shovel, an axe, a couple of boards and some cords in the boat. He helped her to a seat in the stern-sheets, and shoved off. There was hardly a breath of wind, and Noddy sculled the boat towards an opening in the reef, which was of coral, and surrounded the island. The afflicted daughter gazed in silent grief at the box, and did not speak a word till the boat entered a little inlet, which Noddy had chosen as a landing-place.

He stepped on sh.o.r.e, and secured the boat to a bush which grew on the bank. Mollie followed him in silence, and selected a place for the grave. It was at the foot of a cocoa palm. The spot was as beautiful as the heart could desire for such a holy purpose; and Noddy commenced his work. The soil was light and loose, and after much severe labor, he made a grave about three feet deep. It would be impossible for him to lower the box into the grave; and, from one end, he dug out an inclined plane, down which he could roll the corpse to its final resting-place.

It required all his skill, strength, and ingenuity to disembark the box; but this was finally accomplished, with such a.s.sistance as the weeping daughter could render. The rude coffin was then moved on rollers to the foot of the tree, and deposited in the grave. Mollie opened the book to the funeral prayer, and handed it to her companion. Severe as the labor he had performed had been, he regarded this as far more trying. He could not refuse, when he saw the poor girl, weeping as though her heart would break, kneel down at the head of the grave. Fortunately he had read this prayer many times since it had been used at the obsequies of Mr. Watts, and it was familiar to him. Awed and impressed by the solemn task imposed upon him, he read the prayer in trembling, husky tones. But he was more earnest and sincere than many who read the same service in Christian lands. It touched his own heart, and again the good Father seemed to be very near to him.

The reading was finished, and the loving girl, not content with what had been done, gathered wild flowers, rich and luxuriant in that sunny clime, and showered them, as a tribute of affection, on the rough coffin. Noddy filled up the trench first, and then, amid the sobs of the poor child, covered all that remained of her father. With what art he possessed he arranged the green sods, as he had seen them in the graveyard at Whitestone. Mollie covered the spot with flowers, and then seemed loath to leave the grave.

From the beginning, Noddy had trembled lest she should ask to look once more on the face of the departed. He had been horrified at the sight himself, and he knew that the distorted visage would haunt her dreams if she was permitted to gaze upon it; but she did not ask to take that last look. Though she said nothing about it, she seemed to feel, instinctively, that the face was not that she had loved, which had smiled upon her, and which was still present in her remembrance.

”Come, Mollie, it is almost dark, and we must go now,” said he, tenderly, when he had waited some time for her.