Although
the wind was light and unsteady, we were making fair progress; but Captain
Falk and Mr. Kipping remained intent on their conference.
I could see that Roger Hamlin, who was leaning on the taffrail, was
imperturbable; but Davie Paine grew nervous and walked back and forth,
looking now and then at the still shape in canvas, and the men began to
murmur among themselves.
"Well," said the captain at last, "what does all this mean, Mr. Paine? What
in thunder do you mean by letting the men stand around like this?"
He knew well enough what it meant, though, for all his bluster. If he had
not, he would have been ranting up the deck the instant he laid eyes on
that scene of idleness such as no competent officer could countenance.
Old Davie, who was as confused as the captain had intended that he should
be, stammered a while and finally managed to say, "If you please, sir, Bill
Hayden's dead."
"Yes," said the captain, "it looks like he's dead."
We all heard him and more than one of us breathed hard with anger.
"Well, why don't you heave him over and be done with it?" he asked shortly,
and turned away.
The men exchanged glances.
"If you please, sir,--" it was Davie, and a different Davie from the one we
had known before,--"if you please, sir, ain't you goin' to read the service
and say the words?"
I turned and stared at Davie in amazement.
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