“You shall have your wish, dear old friend! We'll warp you off-shore and ship you for the Eternal Voyage in a way befitting the true seaman that you are.”
And the mute lips seemed to smile back their approval, as though they would say:
“Ay, ay, wrhy not, I axes? An' cheer up, my hearty, for, d'ye mind me, lad, pipin' your eye won't stop the leak when the ship's a-sinkin'.”
What boots it to linger over the noisy, but none the less genuine grief, of the faithful Spottie when he learned the sad truth? Nor is it necessary to describe at length the sad preparations for consigning the dead captain to his long home beneath the waves that had been his home so long in life. Suffice it to say that without loss of time a rude bier was constructed on which to convey the remains to the beach, and that while this was preparing there occurred an event so remarkable, and withal of so important a bearing upon the future of the quest, as to merit something more than mere passing mention.
It happened while the three were in the jungle cutting materials for the litter, and it concerned the fatal cord.
“Until the lascar's paid out, I'll keep this as a reminder of what I owe him,” Don had said grimly, just before starting; and taking the lascars knife from his belt he stuck it into a crevice in the “fo'csle” wall, and hung the snake-like cord upon it.
Spottie and Puggles being too timid to leave with the dead, or to send alone into the jungle in quest of materials for the bier—for was it not at nightfall that shadowy spooks walked abroad?—Don was forced to bear them company. There was no help for it; the captain's body must be left unguarded in their absence—except, indeed, for such watch-care as puny Bosin was able to give it.
Up to the moment of their setting out the monkey had not for a single instant left his master's side. This fact served to render all the more extraordinary the discovery they made on their return—namely, that the monkey had quitted his post. What could have induced him to abandon his master at such a moment was a mystery.
And the mystery deepened when Don, wanting the knife, sought it in the “fo'csle,” for, to his astonishment, neither knife nor cord was to be found.
“Dey spooks done steal urn, sar,” cried Spottie, with chattering teeth.