"We haven't any shovels, you know, Captain," I remonstrated.
"Under the sod figgeratively speakin'," said the Skipper. "We'll give 'em, as we did those two poor shipmates of ours, a burial at sea."
"But I don't see any sense in it, Captain. What is the hurry? Why won't to-morrow do? I'm so tired of funerals and weddings and bones and other horrors of all sorts."
I heard a faint exclamation, and looked up to see Cynthia standing at the back of the cave. She had come to ask for some water.
"Tired of weddings and other horrors," murmured Cynthia under her breath.
I rose to my feet, ignoring her, and addressed myself to the Skipper.
"You'll be getting ordained next, Captain," said I. "Probably as soon as we get back to Belleville."
I saw the flutter of Cynthia's dress as she vanished between the pillars, and then I turned to the Captain.
"Come on!" said I. "I wonder how many more of these ghastly, ghostly things I'll have to do before I can get any rest."
Clearly the wedding upon the wreck had awakened the Skipper's enthusiasm in regard to religious services as performed by him.