yours
too, Miss Remington.... May God guide ye both together; and you too,
Atkins, for ye are a guid sailor man, and a honest one, too. And if ye
can get to this lagoon in time--ye know what I mean--ye'll pit my auld
bones under God's earth and no cast me overboard?"

Atkins was beside him in a moment. "Brace up, Morrison, old man, you're
a long way off dead yet," he said, with rough sympathy.

"Nay, Atkins, I'm verra near... verra near. But I hae no fear. I'm no
afraid of what is to come; because I hae a clean sheet o' my life to
show to the Almighty--I'm no like that puir devil Jessop. Harvey man,
listen to me. Long, long ago, when I was a bairn at my mother's knee, I
read a vairse of poetry which has never come to my mind till now, when
I'm verra near my Maker, I canna repeat the exact words, but I think it
goes like this," he whispered,

"'He who, from zone to zone,
Guides o'er the trackless main the sea-bird's flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone
Will guide my steps aright.'"

"May God guide us all as He guides the sea-bird, and as He has guided
you," said Tessa sobbingly, as she pressed her lips to his cheek.

Morrison took her hand and held it tightly,

"God help and bless ye, lassie. May ye and Harvey never see the shadow
of a sorrow in your lives. Atkins, ye'll tak' guid care to remember that
there is a hundred and sixty-three pounds due to me frae Hillingdon and
MacFreeland, and that if ye do not care to take it yoursel', it must go
to auld John Cameron, the sailors' parson in Sydney. Ye hae ony amount
of witnesses to hear what I'm now telling ye. I'm no for being long wi'
ye, and I dinna want yoursel' nor auld Jock Cameron to be robbed."

"I'll see that the old parson gets it, Morrison," said Atkins huskily;
"he'll do more good with it than a man like me."

"Man," said the old engineer, as he lifted his kindly grey eyes to the
second mate, "ye're welcome to it. I wish it were a thousand, for ye're
a grand sailor man, wi' a big heart, and maybe ye hae some good woman
waiting for ye; and a hunner and sixty pound is no sma' help to----"

His voice failed, but his lips were smiling still as he gave his last
sigh; and then his head lay still in Tessa's arms.

CHAPTER IX

All that day over a gently heaving sea the boat sped steadily onward
before the soft breath of the dying trade wind, and when night fell
Harvey and Atkins reckoned that they could not be