‘It must always be so with generous natures,’ I exclaimed. ‘What is abhorrent to them in life, death converts into a pathetic appeal. Best perhaps to leave old Time to revenge one’s wrongs. And now that her ladyship is on board, what is Wilfrid going to do with her?’ ‘She is never likely to leave her cabin,’ she replied. ‘When the “Bride” arrives home, then?’ ‘I cannot tell.’ ‘Had Wilfrid’s misfortune been mine this is the consideration that would have stared me in the face from the very start and hindered me from taking any step that did not conduct me straight to the Divorce Court.’ Here her maid arrived and whispered to her, on which, giving me a pretty little sad smile, she rose and went to her cabin. I mounted to the deck and found the wide ocean shivering and flashing under a pleasant breeze of wind, whose hot buzzing as it hummed like the vast insect life of a tropic island through the rigging and into the canvas, was cooled to the ear by the pleasant noise of running waters on either hand. My first look was for the ‘’Liza Robbins,’ and I was not a little surprised to find her far away down upon our lee quarter, a mere dash of light of a moonlike hue. Finn was pacing the quarterdeck solemnly with a Sunday air upon him. On seeing me he approached with a shipshape salute and exclaimed: ‘I suppose there is no doubt, sir, his honour designs that we should be now steering for home?’ ‘For what other part of the world, captain?’ ‘Well, sir, at sea one wants instructions. Maybe Sir Wilfrid _knows_ that we’re going home?’ ‘He lies sleeping as soundly and peacefully, Finn, as a little boy in his cabin, and knows nothing.’ ‘Lor’ bless me!’ cried Finn. ‘But you may take me as representing him,’ said I, ‘and I’ll be accountable for all misdirections. About the funeral now. I observed Cutbill and Crimp pass through the cabin. They’ve gone to stitch the body up.’ ‘Yes, sir. His honour told me to get it done at once. ’Sides, ’tain’t a part of the ocean in which ye can keep the like of them things long.’ ‘When do you mean to bury him?’ ‘Well, I thought to-night, sir, in the first watch. Better make a quiet job of it, I allow, for fear of----’ and screwing up his face into a peculiar look, he pointed significantly to the deck with clear reference to Lady Monson. ‘You are right, Finn. We have had “scenes” enough, as scrimmages are called by women.’ ‘Will your honour read the orfice?’ ‘D’ye mean the burial service? It will be hard to see print by lantern light.’ ‘I’ve got it, sir, in a book with the letters as big as my forefinger.’ I considered a little and then said, ‘On reflection, no. You are captain of this ship, and it is for you, therefore, to read the service. I will be present, of course.’