"Is you dead?"
And Jonathan was dead.
It was worth doing. It saved Toby Farr alive from that gale. It was no easy thing to clothe him anew in the wind—the little boy weeping for his dead grandfather and wanting to lie down and die by his side. Newfoundland born, however, and used to weather, he lived through the night. And when Cap'n Saul gathered the dead from the ice in the quiet weather of the next morning, the lad was carried aboard and stowed away, frost-bitten in a sad way, yet bound to hang on to life.
Toby said never a word about his grandfather then. Nor did he weep any more. Nor did he ask Billy and Archie any questions. But he brooded. And the boys wondered what he was thinking so deeply about. And then they put into port—flag at half-mast and a hundred and twenty-one men piled forward like cord-wood. And Toby Farr came on deck, clad in his grandfather's clothes, and watched the dead go ashore, with Archie and Billy and Sir Archibald, until his grandfather went by, wrapped in a Union Jack.
"Billy!" said he.
"Ay, Toby?"
"Did my gran'pa gimme his clothes?"
"He did."
"I'll be worthy!" said Toby.