“I shall have to depend upon shell-fish,” he said to himself; “there must be numbers sticking to the rocks, and I must try and get them off with my knife. I wish that I had some fishing-hooks and lines. By scrambling out to the end of a reef I might very likely catch as many fish as I require, but as I have not the hooks and lines, I must manage with what I can get.” He sighed as he felt his helplessness. On looking along the beach he saw it covered with pieces of wreck as far as the eye could reach. He might at all events find something useful among the articles thrown up. He had not got far when he caught sight of a human form surging up and down, close to the beach. It might be some person who, having clung on to a piece of the wreck during the night, was attempting to reach the shore. He rushed forward to assist the man to land, but scarcely had he seized an arm than he saw that it was that of a dead body. He did not, however, let go his hold, but dragged it up on the beach.
“I must bury the poor fellow, at all events,” he observed, looking at the countenance of the man, who was one of the ordinary seamen. The discovery of the body made him look more narrowly along the beach, and he saw several others either thrown up, or floating close to the shore. The sight brought Richard Hargrave to his recollection. “He is probably among them,” he thought, “and I was the cause of dragging him away from his home, prompted by my revengeful spirit and bad feelings. I am as guilty as if I were his murderer. I wish that he had made good his escape and remained at home, and I would give much now to know that he had reached the shore in safety, but that is not likely.” He dragged up body after body, scanning their countenances anxiously, fearing that he should recognise that of Richard Hargrave. At last he came to one with grizzled hair and beard, which he recognised as that of the smuggler Ben Rudall, who had by his means been torn from his home.
“Unhappy wretch! By the way Voules and I treated him he must have had a miserable life of it on board. I suspect that he and Hargrave, if they had had the opportunity, would have treated me as I deserve. Would that I could forget the past! However, I cannot let them lie here to rot.” On counting the number of bodies he had hauled out of the water, he found that there were no less than five. The task was abhorrent to his nature. “I little thought that I should ever become a grave-digger!” he exclaimed, bitterly. “However, it must be done; I couldn’t rest at night if I knew they were there. I only hope that the sea has washed away the remainder, that I shall not have to bury the whole of my crew; perhaps by that time I shall become accustomed to it, only every day will render the business more horrible.”
The young lord, however, managed to muster up resolution to commence the task. He went back for the piece of board which had served him to dig the grave of Voules, and commenced shovelling away the sand some distance above high-water mark. It would evidently require a large grave, and the task would occupy him some hours. The sun, which was intensely hot, beat down on his unprotected head, while the perspiration streamed from his forehead. At last he could work no more, and, supporting himself by the spade, followed by Neptune, he staggered to the nearest spot where he observed some shade beneath the cliff. As he threw himself on the ground, the dog lay down by his side with his tongue out, showing that he too felt the heat.
Overcome with fatigue, he dropped into an uneasy doze, painful fancies filling his brain. How long he had thus remained he could not tell, when, on opening his eyes, they fell on a figure standing by the half-finished grave. His disordered imagination made him fancy that it was one of those he was about to bury who, recovering, had regained his feet. Or could it be a spirit?
His eyes dilated as he gazed. The person, after looking into the grave for a few seconds, turned round and went towards where the bodies lay and then knelt down by the side of one of them. Lord Reginald, not seeing him, as he was concealed by the slope of the beach from where he lay, fancied as he gradually recovered his senses that he must have been subjected to some hallucination, and resolved to finish his task.
“Come, Nep,” he said, rising, “we must finish the work, terrible as it is!” What was his surprise to find that his dog had gone? He made his way back to the grave, keeping his head turned in an opposite direction from the bodies, unwilling to look at them from the sickening feeling which came over him when he did so. Descending into the pit he had formed, he began to throw out the sand. While thus employed he heard a voice close to him say—
“Shall I help you?”
His first impulse was to spring out of the grave and express the joy he felt that one of his crew had escaped, but on looking up he saw Richard Hargrave standing near, with a piece of wood similar to the one with which he was employed. At first his feelings softened towards his enemy, for so he regarded the young seaman, but the next instant he fancied that he detected a look of scorn in his countenance. Still, he wanted to get the work done, and alone he could not accomplish it. He therefore answered, “Yes, you may fall to, for it is more than one man alone can do.”
Without exchanging another word, Dick leapt down into the pit and began shovelling out the sand in a far more effectual way than Lord Reginald had done. When the grave was of sufficient size, Dick got out and immediately went towards one of the bodies, beckoning his companion to assist him in carrying it to its last resting-place. Lord Reginald hesitated, but when Dick began to drag the body by the shoulders he took it up by the feet. One by one three of the other bodies were carried to the grave. Lord Reginald was about to lift up the feet of Ben Rudall, when Dick exclaimed—