"Mr Kydd," he said, "you have compelled me at a severe cost to come up on deck. I order you to heave the lead. And, men," he cried out, "assist the mate to carry out my orders." Kydd was now obliged to obey. Going to the chains, he hove the lead. I looked over the side to watch him, and saw by the way the line slackened that bottom was found. Just at that moment I heard some one cry out, "See! see! What is the matter with the captain?" I ran aft. He had fallen to the deck. "Oh, father, father! speak to me!" cried Natty, who was by his side. I lifted up the old man's head. David Hyslop had hastened to him, and was kneeling on the deck holding his hand. "He has swooned," he said. "He should not have left his bed." "Can you do anything for him?" "We will carry him below, but I fear the worst," he whispered. Just then the sails of the brig gave a loud, thundering flap, and yet there was no wind; but I felt that a huge wave coming along the ocean had passed under her. The passengers looked at each other with an expression of dismay in their countenances, not knowing what was next going to happen; while David and I, with the assistance of Stanley and Mr Rowley, began to carry the captain down below. Not without difficulty, as he was somewhat heavy, we placed him on his bed. David again felt his pulse. "It is all over, I fear," he said in a low voice, so that Natty could not hear. "Bring a glass! I cannot feel his heart beating." His brother brought a small glass from their sisters' cabin, and David held it over Captain Page's mouth, and again felt his heart. "He is gone," he said. "No human skill can restore him." Natty, who had been standing outside, now sprang into the cabin. "Oh, tell me!" he said, looking imploringly up at David, "tell me!--is my father likely to get better? Why will he not speak to me?" David did not reply, but made a sign to me to lead him out of the cabin. I saw my cousin close the old man's eyes as I took Natty by the hand and led him to the main cabin. I thought I would tell him at once what had happened; but a choking sensation came into my throat, and I could not utter a word. "Is father not getting better," he asked, after a time. "Why did he not speak to me just now?" "I am afraid he is not getting better," I replied; "but come on deck." The idea struck me that I would get one of the young ladies to speak to him, as they would tell him of his loss with more gentleness than any one else. When we reached the deck he saw Leo, who ran up to him, and took him aft to show him a large shark he had been watching swimming about close astern. I seized the opportunity of speaking to Miss Rowley, and told her what had happened. "Oh, no, no; I am sure I cannot speak to the child. I should not know what to say," she answered. "Just tell him yourself. I do not suppose boys are likely to be much affected by such an occurrence."