affected her, he fancied. There was an invisible armor about her that
might be added to at any moment by a shield of silent scorn. Somehow, if
sex had, for a swift moment, brought her and Lund into any contact, that
same sex, showing another aspect, set them far apart.

Lund showed that he felt it, running his splay fingers through his beard
in evident embarrassment, while Rainey took the book silently, looking
through the pages for the ritual of "Burial at Sea."

Arrangements had been made on deck long before dawn. A section of the
rail had been removed and a grating arranged that could be tipped at
the right moment for the consignment of the captain's body to the deep.

The sea was running in long heaves, and the sun rose in a clear sky. The
ocean was free from ice, though the wind was cold. Here and there a
berg, far off, caught the sparkle of the sun and, to the north, parallel
to their course, the peaks of the Aleutian Isles, broken buttresses of
an ancient seabridge, showed sharply against the horizon.

At four bells in the morning watch all hands had assembled, save for
Tamada and Hansen, who appeared bearing the canvas-enveloped,
flag-draped body of Simms, his sea-shroud weighted by heavy pieces of
iron. Peggy Simms followed them, and, as the crew, with shuffling feet
and throats that were repeatedly cleared, gathered in a semicircle, she
arranged the folds of the Stars and Stripes that Hansen attached to a
light line by one corner.

Whatever Lund affected, the solemnity of the occasion held the men. They
uncovered and stood with bowed heads that hid the bruised faces of the
hunters. Lund's own damaged features were lowered as Rainey commenced to
read. Only Deming's face, gray from the effort of coming on deck and the
pain in his arm, held the semblance of a sneer that was largely bravado.
A hunter had his arm tucked in that of his comrade with the broken ribs.
A seaman was told off to the wheel and the schooner was held to the wind
with all sheets close inboard, rising and falling on an almost level
keel.

"_And the body shall be cast into the sea._"

At the words Lund and Hansen tilted the grating. There was a slight
pause as if the body were reluctant to start on its last journey, and
then it slid from the platform and plunged into the sea, disappearing
instantly under the urge of the weights, with a hissing aeration of the
water. The flag, held inboard by the line, fluttered a moment and
subsided over