Page:Short Stories (1912).djvu/141

134 "O Lord, hear my voice!"

"Lord,—hear—my—voice."

The words seemed to die away upon her lips; her hands fell apart upon her lap; her eyes were fixed upon the infinite blue, and a faint smile played about her parted lips. She was dead!

Poor Mr. Chris He felt it frightfully. We buried her quietly at sea next day, and he sobbed his great heart out over her when we finally sewed her up in some nice clean canvas, and took her out on deck. It was all very sorrowful—very pitiful—and a gloom settled down over the schooner.

Chris never got over it. We stood on for Sydney but before we reached the Barrier reef I could see his mind unhinged. At length it became evident to everyone on board that he was no longer responsible for what he did, and we held a council at which it was determined that I should take command of the schooner. We let him roam about the vessel, which he did in a harmless way; he never seemed to wish to interfere with anything.

One night I heard him sobbing in the cabin which used to be hers, and the words came out to me—"Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord; Lord hear my voice."

There was yet one more tragedy on the schooner before we reached Sydney Heads.

No one knew how or when it happened, but the next morning Mr. Chris was not on board.

I brought my first command safely into Sydney, where I saw her sold a few weeks later at public auction.

I never went "blackbirding" again.