Captain Weber threw the broad folds of the Union Jack over the dead; the light was left burning, and the party--Isabel sobbing as if her heart would break--passed through the deserted cabin where the water was already washing about, and, reaching the deck, went over the side on to the raft. It was time, for the brig was very low in the water, and as the captain stood on the gangway, the last man on deck, an explosion took place below. It was the pent-up air forced by the increasing mass of water to find an escape, blowing down the screens and bulkheads. The old seaman raised his hat, took one look around him, and then stepped on to the raft. "Shove off, my lads," he cried, as with long planks ripped from the deck and hastily fashioned into sweeps, the men bore her away from the brig's side. "We must get a few fathom away before the old barky makes her last plunge, Lowe." "Ay, ay, sir; ship the sweeps, my lads, and give way." There was not a breath of wind, but the growing coolness of the air told of morning being near, for in tropical climates the coldest hour of the twenty-four is ever that which precedes dawn. The sweeps were long and clumsy, and as the royal which had been set as sail was wholly useless, the motion of the unwieldy raft was necessarily very slow. Two men were at each sweep, and there were four of them, yet the raft barely moved through the water. Captain Weber sat on a case, his head leaning on his hands, and his face turned towards the "Halcyon." The starlight was not bright enough to show the tears that rolled slowly down his weather-beaten cheeks. On a heap of sails, nestling by her husband's side, his large military cloak thrown over her, sat Isabel, and she too was looking towards the dark mass of the sinking vessel. The seaman mourned his ship, the home of many years, the companion of danger of every kind; Isabel's cheek was wet too, for she mourned a father's loss, and her eyes were eagerly, turned to a dim, faint ray of light shining from one of the ports. She knew that it came from the cabin where her dead father lay. The sweeps fell with measured cadence into the water, the men pulling in stern silence, until they were about five hundred yards away, and then, without, any order from any one, they ceased rowing. The grey dawn was slowly breaking over the ocean as the brig gave one wild roll to port. She seemed unable to right herself, and those on the raft drew a long breath, as she partially did so. The water, in her hold rolled heavily forward. Down went her bows, down, down into the salt sea, as lurching heavily and slowly to starboard, she disappeared, the sea boiling in foam around her. "My father! oh, my father!" cried Isabel, as she clasped her hands together and sprang forward, as though to join him, but her husband's strong arm was round her, drawing her gently back.