Page:Wanderings of a Pilgrim Vol 2.djvu/552

 I fear he is sinking into his grave. He was in delicate health before the gale, and the exertion he underwent at that time was too much for him; there is but faint hope of his recovery.

5th.—Picked up the north-east trade. The captain's illness increased at night, and about ten o'clock he expired.

6th.—At 10 the funeral took place: the corpse having been sewed up in canvas was placed on the main hatch, with the colours spread over it: when the ceremony of the burial of the dead commenced, the body was placed with the feet to the open gangway, on a plank, in a sloping position; the colours had been thrown over it, but you could trace the form of the corpse through them. "When the words, "We commit this body to the deep," were pronounced, the men who stood by the corpse launched it forwards into the sea, and it sank immediately. The chief officer read the service,—he was deeply affected; the captain had been his friend, and he had attended him during his illness with the greatest solicitude; he read the service in a broken and trembling voice,—the tears rolling down his cheeks,—he could scarcely master his agony. It is a fearful sight to witness such a struggle in a firm and powerful man. He was performing the request of his departed friend: a few days before, when he informed the captain of his danger; the latter looked surprised, and said, "Well, B, my good fellow, I have but one request to make,—give me a sailor's grave." The next day he arranged his worldly affairs, and was employed in devotion. Mr. B bore up during the life of his friend, but to part with him,—to commit his body to the deep,—to read the service over him,—must have been a bitter trial. The crew were all present, and tears ran down many a hardy sunburnt face; the captain was greatly beloved both by the officers and men. The passengers appeared in mourning at the funeral. The day was a most lovely one,—the bright waves flew by the ship as the trade wind bore her onwards, and the breeze tempered the heat of the sun. I thought of the festering and air-poisoning churchyards of London, and felt, as far as I am concerned, how much I should prefer a sailor's grave,—the