Of that meeting with Jimmy Appleby the less said the better. I believe that, in my wearied and weakened state, I broke down and cried, but I have no clear recollection. The first thing that I remember clearly is being well down the lagoon, a passenger in my own boat. Our new shipmates were doing the pulling, although those of the regular crew who were able sat on the thwarts beside the fresh men, and bent their backs with them. Two of our men, severely wounded, lay on the bottom of the boat, half under the thwarts, and there, too, was the body of the Prince, covered with the sail. Captain Nelson stood at the steering oar, his face grave and set, looking out ahead. I crawled up to my place on the midship thwart beside a stranger, and got my hands on my oar; and the stranger turned his head and gave me a smile. We got safely out of the lagoon to sea, and on board the ship. The canoes were far down to leeward. They had given the ship a wide berth, but might come back again, after we had gone, to pick up their dead. I did not know what customs they practised in that respect. I know I was surprised to find that it was not yet noon. It seemed to me that almost a lifetime had passed since we had left the ship that morning. The wounded were cared for at once. Then the body of the Prince was passed up, and laid on the hatch cover. I drew near to it, and found Peter beside me. I had forgotten Jimmy Appleby. Peter said nothing, but he laid his arm across my shoulders, and we saw the sailmaker come with a piece of old canvas, and his palm, and stitch the Prince up carefully, a few links of old chain cable at his feet. I saw the crew gathering with bared heads, and Captain Nelson standing {354} with a little book, but I did not hear what he read. The man in that long white bundle—it shone dazzlingly in the hot sunshine—would not have been there except for me. I hid my face in my arm against the rigging, hot tears burned my eyes, and my shoulders shook; there was a gentle noise of canvas slipping on wood, a splash, and I raised my head to see Captain Nelson clapping his book shut, and the men as they turned away. Peter patted my shoulder. “Don’t ye grieve, lad,” he said. “He ’d have liked this way of it better. He was a good shipmate, if his skin was black. Come now, you ’re wanted. A bite of dinner ’ll do you a world of good.” At that I am afraid I laughed. It was hysterical, but I was quieted somewhat, and I went below.