He left me after we had been talking for about half an hour. I then heard a melancholy noise of crying in the cabin. I went below, and found Galloon at Greaves’ door, howling dismally. I told Jimmy to let the dog in, and resumed my walk and lonely lookout on deck. Lord, what a melancholy day was that in my life! The desolation of the sea was in it. I see that ocean now--its hills of liquid lead pour into foam, the gray shape of an albatross hovers off the quarter, there is a constant flash and leap of hissing whiteness at the bow, and the black running gear is curved to leeward by the gale. I looked into Greaves’ cabin before sitting down to supper. Galloon lay upon the breast of the dead man and whined dismally when I entered. I uncovered the face to make sure of the death in it, and the dog, when he saw his master’s face, barked low and strangely, and licked the cheek of the dead. I hid the face once more and went out. The dog would not follow. Little passed at table between the lady Aurora and me. The gloom of death was upon us, and I was too cold and sad at heart, too oppressed with anxiety, to attempt one of our broken and motioning talks. At eight o’clock Bol came aft to stitch up the body in canvas. With him came William Galen, a freckled countryman of Bol’s. I watched the brig while they went below; very dark was the night, with a sort of swarming of the seas to the vessel that gave her the most uncomfortable motion I ever remember. But the wind was sinking, and by this hour we had shaken a reef out of the topsails and had set the main topgallant sails, and the little ship rushed along wet and in blackness fore-and-aft, her head now something to the south of east, fair for the passage of the Horn. Bol and his mate had not been above three minutes in the cabin when I heard a commotion below--the furious barking of a dog, deep roars, and thunderous shouts and Dutch oaths. I rushed into the cabin, crying to the sailors not to hurt the poor beast. “She has tore mine breek,” shouted Bol, “und bitten Galen to der bone of her thumb.” I bade them stand out of sight, and Jimmy and I went in; but the dog was not to be coaxed away from his master. There was nothing for it but to smother and carry him out in a blanket, and let him loose in an adjacent berth. The struggle with the beast capsized my stomach. He had crouched upon the dead body, and our catching at him and smothering him, and dragging him out of the bunk in a blanket, had given a horrid semblance of life to the poor remains. The half-closed eyes seemed to plead for repose, and, in the dance of the lamplight, the pale lips stirred, and, by stirring, entreated. “Now for a neat shob,” said Bol. I went out sick, and was some time on deck ere I rallied. By and by Bol and his mate came up, and the boatswain said: “She vhas all right now. How many men vhas dis dot I make up for der last heaf?” “I don’t know,” said I.