I refitted the pump and fell to work at the brake and brought up some water.
'Let me help you,' said Miss Otway.
'It won't hurt you,' said I, and brought a coil of rope across the deck for her to stand on, that her feet might be clear of the water as it washed with the slant of the planks. We then went to work: the water bubbled, the clank of the brake ran a noise of life through the hulk; the exercise flushed the girl's face, and, in a pause for breath, I told her it would do her more good than sitting by the fire.
In that same pause whilst she breathed quickly she glanced with a sudden look of pain and consternation in the direction of the galley, and exclaimed:
'The body of my poor old nurse lies there. I had forgotten her.'
'I buried her,' said I.
'Where?'
I told her. She was shocked and her eyes filled, and she turned her head to hide her face.
'It was not a thing to keep,' said I.
'Oh no,' she cried, looking round at me, eagerly and yet piteously. 'I don't mean that. You threw her into the sea as she lay—without a prayer——'