The men turned, but seemed mutinous, and once more the muttered conversation began, when, gliding down the ladder, Isabel stood among them. She had heard what passed.
“I was wrong, Enrico; tell these brave men I was wrong. My father could not have a nobler coffin than this. Speak to them, Enrico.”
Hughes did so, and a hearty cheer was given by the crew.
“And now,” said Captain Weber, greatly relieved, “we must leave the poor old brig. Are you ready?”
“I would say good bye to my father, Enrico,” murmured Isabel; “have we time?”
The three entered the little cabin, the missionary having joined them, and they stood for the last time by the side of the dead. A lamp burned feebly, lighting up dimly the small bed where the body lay. The grey hairs were carefully combed out, the eyes were closed, for a daughter’s hands had been busy there. The features wore a composed, but haughty look, and one or two deep stains alone told of the violent nature of his death.
Isabel sobbed bitterly, while the missionary prayed. The door opened, and Captain Weber entered. Stooping over the dead form, Isabel imprinted one long kiss on the cold lips, and, in an agony of grief, cast herself into the soldier’s arms.
“Enrico,—thou alone art left to me,” she sobbed.
Captain Weber threw the broad folds of the Union Jack over the dead; the light was left burning, and the party—Isabel sobbing as if her heart would break—passed through the deserted cabin where the water was already washing about, and, reaching the deck, went over the side on to the raft. It was time, for the brig was very low in the water, and as the captain stood on the gangway, the last man on deck, an explosion took place below. It was the pent-up air forced by the increasing mass of water to find an escape, blowing down the screens and bulkheads. The old seaman raised his hat, took one look around him, and then stepped on to the raft. “Shove off, my lads,” he cried, as with long planks ripped from the deck and hastily fashioned into sweeps, the men bore her away from the brig’s side.
“We must get a few fathom away before the old barky makes her last plunge, Lowe.”