"I'M afraid it's a case with poor Barnes," said Dr. Conolly, in a low tone, as the whaler came alongside the yacht and my father climbed over the side. "He's taken a turn for the worse, and I don't think he'll last till tomorrow.

"Poor fellow! Is there no hope?"

The doctor shook his head. "I was doubtful from the first. The spear was a poisoned one; though the poison was undoubtedly stale, and therefore slow in action, it was none the less sure."

"Can he be seen?"

"Yes, he's quite conscious."

I followed my father to the shelter-tent, under which the wounded seaman lay.

"Well, Barnes, how goes it—better?" he asked, with a forced cheerfulness.

"No, sir, though 'tain't no good making a fuss about it. My number's up."

"Nonsense, man! you'll soon be all right again, I hope."

"All right aloft, sir, please God. I'm real glad you've come to see me, Cap'n, for there'll be one or two little things I want squared up."

"I'll do anything I can."

"Well, sir, there's my medal for South Africa, with three clasps: would you mind accepting it as a kind o' keepsake from me? An' there's the good-conduct medal, too. That ain't of much account compared with t'other, but p'r'aps Mister Reginald would 'ave it."

"Thank you, Barnes; but have you no friends to give them to?"

"Never a relation in the world, sir. There's my pension papers in my ditty-box; it's a matter of three quarters due to me. Will you see that my chum, Joe Dirham, draws it? I've signed a paper about it."

"All right; I'll see to that."

"An' my identity-paper. It'll fetch a shilling at the 'Register's' at the first home-port we touch. Joe might just as well 'ave that; 'tain't no good throwin' good money away, and, besides, it will make all square and above-board up at the Admiralty."

"Do you feel much pain?"

"Precious little, Cap'n. As I said afore, it's no good makin' a fuss over it; a seaman with one leg ain't of no use to you, but"—here his voice trembled a little—"promise me, sir, that you'll bury me at sea, an' not on the island; it'll be a snug moorin' for me at the bottom of the lagoon. Now, Cap'n, read somethin' out of the Book, an' say a prayer for me—I, never wasn't much in that line myself."

Somehow I felt unable to remain longer, so, shaking the seaman's thin hand, I went aft, leaving my father with him.

The news of the state of poor Barnes cast a gloom over the ship, and any feeling of enthusiasm over the discovery of the treasure was smothered by the melancholy reflection that one of our comrades was on his deathbed.

Next morning I was awakened by the sound of voices on deck. The sun had risen in a thick haze, and, though not a zephyr disturbed the surface of the lagoon, the air was cool and pleasant. Wondering what the sounds meant, and whether poor Barnes had gone, I slipped on my clothes and went on deck.

Clustered round the tent were most of the crew, listening to the voice within, or whispering to each other in subdued tones. I went forward, and found my father, Dr. Conolly, and the bos'n standing by the side of the temporary bunk on which poor Barnes lay. The dying seaman was fighting his battles o'er again, shouting and talking in clear yet hurried tones. Now he was in the sweltering heat of a West African backwater, advancing with his shipmates to storm the stockade of a rebel chieftain; next he was serving a 4.7 gun with the Naval Brigade, his feeble hands clutching in grim pretence at the handspikes as the huge weapon on its unwieldy carriage was trained on the advancing Boers. Other episodes followed in quick succession, till the scene in the stockade where he received his fatal wound' seemed to exhaust his last flickering strength.

"Can't you see it's getting quite dark?" he exclaimed feebly. "What's wrong with the bos'n's mate? Why, hain't he piped the lamp-trimmers? ...Ah! that's better; the anchor-lamp's burnin' now, so we're brought up at last.... Turn it up a little, lads... That's it... Burning brightly now..."

The words died away in a long-drawn sigh. The doctor bent over the now motionless form' and placed a finger lightly on one eye. Then he shook his head. "Cover him over, poor fellow; he's made his last voyage and reached the port aloft."
* * * * *

Two hours later, the whaler pushed off from the side of the "Fortuna," with almost ever, man on board, and a still, shrouded form, covered with a union Jack, lying on a board athwartships, the grand and solemn words of the Burial Service for use at sea mingling with the soft splash of the oars as the men, keeping slow time, pulled the boat towards the deepest part of the lagoon.

"... Suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from Thee."

"Way enough; toss oars," ordered the bos'n in a low tone.

The men raised their oars to a vertical position, as a last tribute to their shipmate, and the boat gradually began to lose way.

"... We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up its dead...."

The bos'n gave the signal, and the board was tilted up, and with a slight splash, the shrouded form slid into the water, leaving the union Jack fluttering in the boat. Instinctively I looked over the side, and followed the course of the weighted canvas that enclosed the mortal remains of poor Barnes, till the grey shroud turned a greenish tinge, and at length was lost in the depth of the lagoon. With heavy hearts we rowed back to the yacht.
* * * * *

Needless to say there was no work done on the wreck for the rest of that day, but, to banish the feeling of depression, all hands were kept busily employed, some on the repairs to the gig, others making and repairing canvas gear, while the two divers made a successful descent and recovered the lost anchor and cable. On coming up they reported that the anchor was actually balanced on the edge of a deep chasm, it being only by the merest chance that the ground tackle had not been irrecoverably lost. So delicate, in fact, was the position of the anchor, that the divers hesitated to approach it for fear that it might make a sudden descent and carry them with it over the abyss.

Just before sunset a strong party went ashore to refill the barricoes. The doctor and I went with them, but no amount of persuasion could induce Yadillah to set foot upon the island again, and during our stay he kept firmly to his resolution. We noticed a curious fact in connection with the journey ashore. The water was tinged in colour, and had a strong, sulphurous smell, so that we argued there must have been a volcanic outlet somewhere in the neighbourhood, o............