"He ain't here," said the man at the wheel. "Oh, Joe, what is it?"
"'Twas your doin'," cried Joe. "There's two gone, and Jack with 'em, and Mr. Gamgee!"
And the man at the wheel fell all ashake. His face was ashy in the feeble glimmer of the binnacle light.
"Come and take her, Joe," he implored. "Oh, the swine she is. I'm in a tremble, Joe. She's too much for me."
And tragedy heaped itself on tragedy. The steward came on deck, and heard that the mate was gone. He lost his head and ran in to the captain crying; he was ludicrous, horrible, speechless. And Rayner sat up in his bunk, and fell back without knowing what had happened. He never knew, for though the steward shook him feebly, his failing heart had failed, and brandy never brought him to. The steward ran on deck blubbering.
"I believe the captain's dead," he sobbed.
And the two boldest of the men took off their caps and went into the cabin humbly. A greater than their commander was there. They stood in silence, fiddling with their caps, and stared at the quiet white face upon its pillow.
"Oh yes, he's dead," they whispered. They backed out respectfully; they were stunned, and were adrift; they were all masterless men; authority had been removed; they faced the unknown with dread. They saw now that they had rested on others' knowledge. What did they know of the sea after all?
They gathered on the poop.
"What?" said Joe, who was at the wheel. "Him gone too. And we——"