Part 122 (1/2)
_For_ RICHARD HARDIE,
NOAH SKINNER.
L. 14,010: 12: 6.
A stately foot came up the stair, but no one heard it. All were absorbed in the strange weird sight, and this great stroke of fate; or of Providence.
”This is yours, I reckon,” said Fullalove, and handed the receipt to Edward. ”No, no!” said Compton. ”See: I've just found a will, bequeathing all he has in the world, with his blessing, to Miss Julia Dodd. These sovereigns are yours, then. But above all, the paper: as your legal adviser, I insist on your taking it immediately. Possession is nine points. However, it is actually yours, in virtue of this bequest.”
A solemn pa.s.sionless voice seemed to fall on them from the clouds,
”No; it is Mine.”
MY story must now return on board the _Vulture._ Just before noon, the bell the half hours are struck on was tolled to collect the s.h.i.+p's company; and soon the gangways and booms were crowded, and even the yards were manned with sailors, collected to see their s.h.i.+pmate committed to the deep. Next came the lieutenants and mids.h.i.+pmen and stood reverently on the deck: the body was brought and placed on a grating. Then all heads being uncovered below and aloft, the chaplain read the solemn service of the dead.
Many tears were s.h.i.+ed by the rough sailors, the more so that to most of them, though not to the officers, it was now known that poor Billy had not always been before the mast, but had seen better days, and commanded vessels, and saved lives; and now he had lost his own.
The service is the same as ash.o.r.e, with this exception: that the words ”We commit his body to the ground, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” &c., are altered at sea, thus: ”We commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up her dead; and the life of the world to come.” At these words the body is allowed to glide off the grating into the sea. The chaplain's solemn voice drew near those very words, and the tears of pity fell faster; and Georgie White, an affectionate boy, sobbed violently, and s.h.i.+vered beforehand at the sullen plunge that he knew would soon come, and then he should see no more poor Billy who had given his life for his.
At this moment the captain came flying on deck, and jumping on to a gun, cried sharply, ”Avast! Haul that body aboard.”
The sharp voice of command cut across the solemn words and tones in the most startling way. The chaplain closed his book with a look of amazement and indignation: the sailors stared, and for the first time did not obey an order. To be sure it was one they had never heard before. Then the captain got angry, and repeated his command louder, and the body was almost jerked in board.
”Carry him to my cabin; and uncover his face.”
By this time nothing could surprise Jackey Tar. Four sailors executed the order promptly.
”Bosen, pipe to duty.”
While the men were dispersing to their several stations, Captain Bazalgette apologised to the chaplain, and explained to him and to the officers. But I give his explanation in my own words. Finding the s.h.i.+p quiet, the purser went to the captain down below, and asked him coolly what entry he should make in the s.h.i.+p's books about this William Thompson, who was no more William Thompson than he was. ”What do you mean?” said the captain. Then the purser told him that Thompson's messmates, in preparing him last night for interment, had found a little bag round his neck, and inside it, a medal of the Humane Society, and a slip of paper written on in a lady's hand; then they had sent for him; and he had seen at once that this was a mysterious case: this lady spoke of him as her husband, and skipper of a merchant vessel.
”What is that?” roared the captain, who hitherto had listened with scarce half an ear.
”Skipper of a merchant vessel, sir, as sure as you command her majesty's frigate _Vulture:_ and then we found his s.h.i.+rt marked with the same name as the lady's.”
”What was the lady's name?”
”Lucy Dodd; and David Dodd is on the s.h.i.+rt.”
”Why didn't you tell me this before?” cried the captain.
”Didn't know it till last night.”
”Why it is twelve o'clock. They are burying him.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Lucy would never forgive me,” cried the captain. And to the purser's utter amazement he clapped on his c.o.c.ked hat, and flew out of the cabin on the errand I have described.
He now returned to the cabin and looked: a glance was enough: there lay the kindly face that had been his friend man and boy.