‘But _what_ did I see? _What?_ I tell you it scared me.’ ‘I _think_,’ said the mate slowly--‘I don’t know, of course,--but I think you have seen what very few people have seen. I think there is a time, you know, which comes between life and death. It is perhaps the twilight of the body you know, and the dawning of the soul,--it is that breathless space which these old crãfts of our bodies have to go through, you know, where there is no life, and not yet death,--the Doldrums of our individuãlities hanging in the wind.’ There was a long silence. ‘Thanks,’ said young Raymond at last, and the old sunny look seemed to creep back into his face through the haunting shadow of fear cast there by the thing he had seen. ‘Thanks, old fellow! The dawning of the soul! I like that.’ He had caught, like a child, at the one idea in the mate’s words which appealed to his narrow, sanguine optimism; and only _I_ saw the look of wearily gentle cynicism in the mate’s face, and heard his words as he turned away out of the cabin, ‘Yes? if there _is_ such a thing, you know.’ So I turned away too from the ‘valley of the shadow,’ but young Raymond knelt softly by the bunk and drew the handkerchief from the dead man’s face. He could bear to look on him now. The breeze stole in and stirred the hair on the two heads close together. The words came to me at the door. ‘You’re all right now, old fellow, aren’t you? You’ve gone home.’ Then through a choke in the voice, ‘but, oh! my God! your luck was hard.’ THE CAPITULATION OF JEAN JACQUES S.S. Wapiti. _May 16th, 188 ._ ... To-day, fine again, gorgeous, but mighty hot. Left Suva at daybreak. Very one-horse place, with a lovely harbour. We got a lot of bananas and pines from a Fijian’s canoe as we went out--they ought to last till we get to Sydney.... A rum thing happened about five o’clock; some 150 miles sou’-west of Suva we sighted a small cutter with two men in her. They were making signals with a pair of breeches. The Captain stopped for them, and lowered a boat to see what was up. I got leave to go. The poor beggars were burnt up--I never saw men so completely frizzled; Frenchmen--one a very big man, one a very little--awfully plucky little chap, said he was ‘all ar-right,’ only wanted water, and was trying to make Suva from Tahiti! ’m! _In a ten-ton cutter!_ Double ’mm!! He asked his course,--we gave it him, and a cask of water. I was the last to go over the side of the cutter, and he said to me: ‘Monsieur, you gentlemens, is it not?’ ‘Hope so,’ said I. ‘Going to Noumea, is it not?’ ‘Yes,’ said I. ‘Will it ’ave ze _extrêmement_ kindness to inform _ce cher Gouverneur_ zat “Jean Jacques” made to ’im ze compliments?’ With that he put his finger to his lips, and smiled sweetly upon me.