ant
supply of water and provisions.

We had no difficulty in stowing water and provisions for the remnant of
the crew to last us till we could reach Zante or Cephalonia, or some
part of the Grecian coast; for that, I heard the captain say, would be
the best direction to steer. We first put the wounded who could not
help themselves into the boat, and the rest were following, when the
captain stopped us.

"Stay, my lads," said he. "The schooner will float for some time
longer, and we must not leave the bodies of our poor shipmates aboard
her to be eaten by the fish with as little concern as if they were
animals."

"All right, sir," answered the men, evidently pleased. "We wouldn't
wish to do so either, sir, but we thought you were in a hurry to be
off."

We set to work at once, for all hands knew what he meant, and we sewed
each of the bodies up in canvas, with shot at their feet. "Can anybody
say any prayers?" asked the captain. No one answered. Of all the crew,
no one had a prayer-book, nor was a Bible to be found. I had one, I
knew, which had been put into my chest by my grandmother, but I was
ashamed to say it was there, and I had not once looked at it since I
came to sea. Edward Seton, however, who had been put into the boat,
heard the question. "I have a prayer-book, sir," he said. "If I may be
hoisted on deck, I will read the funeral service." The captain accepted
his offer. He was taken out of the boat and propped up on a mattress.
He read the Church of England burial service with a faltering voice (he
himself looking like death itself) over the bodies of those whom it
appeared too probable that he would shortly follow.

It might, perhaps, have been more a superstitious than a religious
feeling which induced my rough, uneducated shipmates to attend to the
service, but it seemed to afford them satisfaction, and it may, perhaps,
at all events, have done some of us good. Then the poor fellows were
launched overboard, with a sigh for their loss, for they were brave
fellows, and died fighting like British seamen. Charley stood by while
his father's body was committed to the deep, and he cried very heartily,
as if he really felt his loss. Then, slowly, one after the other of us
went into the boat. The captain was the last to quit the schooner. For
some time we held on. The captain evidently could not bring himself to
give the order to cast off--indeed, it was possible that the vessel
might still