"It's a fact! Now I'm going to drop my end, and you'll see." Accordingly, the Skipper did release his hold, when, to my horror, the poor cage of bones came rattling to the earth.
"Lord! what a noise they make!" said the Skipper. "Well, I may be wrong. Something's playing the devil with my eyesight lately."
I felt like suggesting as a remedy the use of plain water at bedtime, but, though I had almost told the Skipper that I was no longer under his orders, my feeling of discipline was so strong that I could not make up my mind to say anything more of a rude or personal nature. So I held my peace and struggled on with the weights on the downward trip, and barked my shins and stubbed my toes on the return to the cavern.
At last they were all carried down to the shore—all those horrid, pitiful travesties on Nature. I struck my flint that we might lift them into the boat. It lasted but a moment; so finally I made a little fire with what few dry sticks we could find, and by its light we placed the four bodies on the thwarts. When we arrived at the beach for the last time, I found a pile of bones huddled together, and by the remnant of clothing which was still attached to the form I discovered it to be the remains of the Chief Justice. I laid these bones by the others and got into the boat. The tiny fire that I had made upon the beach was our guide and beacon. Strange to say, it began to glow brighter as we drew away from the shore, and I fancied that I saw a figure feeding the gentle flame and keeping it alight for us. We rowed for half an hour straight out to sea. The breeze was blowing fresh, but, beyond an occasional star, we had no sort of light. When, however, one has accustomed himself to going without a light at night, it is strange how well he can find his way. It has been my experience that it is never quite dark. I have heard of nights as black as Erebus, and even darker places have been used as comparisons, but I have never found a night so black that a little glow was not visible. The phosphorus of the waves as they foam and curl is a slight aid, and a true mariner always feels that he can see enough in the blackest night that good God ever made.
I rowed while the Skipper busied himself in preparing the cages with their inclosures for final service. He must have been thinking of this for some time, for he had well-twisted and braided ropes made of some of the brocade ready to fasten to the cages, and he had placed rocks in the boat which had been selected with great care. In fact, he told me that he had aided Nature in hollowing the depression round the middle of the stones, so that the rope could not slip. As we dropped the great parcels over the side there was a splash, a sudden tightening of the rope and a quick rush downward, followed by the meeting of the waters above. For my part I wanted to get over with the business as soon as possible. The Skipper was going through all sorts of religious didos. I heard him mumbling part of the wedding service, mixed with the Declaration of Independence, which in those days we all thought it sacrilegious not to know. There was something holy about it to us, and it seemed very appropriate to me. But when the Skipper ended with "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust," I looked at the dark water which lapped against the boat and shook my head. The old man did not perceive it, and we rowed back to shore, I turning my head every now and then to see if the little spark of flame was still there.
At last we reached the beach, and glad enough was I when we had fastened the boat safely and had again climbed upward to the cavern. My coming in awoke the Bo's'n, for it was nearly morning now, still dark, but about half after three, as nearly as I could judge. The Skipper had left me at the entrance of the cave, saying that he wished to go round to the great hall which had for so long been the tomb of those dead men and offer up some prayers. I argued with him that it was not after the manner of Protestants to pray for the dead; but he turned away without more words, and I heard him scrambling up through the dark and solitary woods. I feared for the old man's mind; but I knew that nothing could turn him when once he took a notion into his head, so I entered the cave alone. The Bo's'n was yawning and stretching his arms placidly.
I was the only one to greet him as he awoke.
"At last," said I, "I shall be glad to lie down, Bo's'n. Don't you disturb me in the morning until I can't sleep any longer."
"Yes, Mr. Jones, sir," said he. "Mrs. Jones has been in asking for her Uncle, and when she saw that you wassent here, sir, she seemed much worried. She asked if any new comple—compli—Well, something or other had arose."
"Bo's'n," said I, "I'm awfully sleepy, but I believe I will tell you where I have been. You will be glad to know that one horror is removed from this unpleasant place."