"No, stay," he said. "He can do me no good. Tell him I thank him for
his kindness. Good-bye, Peter."
The next instant his hand relaxed its hold of mine, and stooping down
over him I found he had ceased to breathe.
So died one of the most amiable and excellent young men I have ever met.
The next morning he was sewn up in canvas, with a shot at his feet, and
brought on deck. The captain stood aft watching the proceedings.
Whether he felt he had hastened Esdale's death I know not; but his
countenance was stern and gloomy as night. The boldest seaman on board
would not have dared just then to speak to him. Hail and sleet were
driving in our faces; a furious gale threatening to carry our only sail
out of the bolt-ropes was blowing; the mountain seas raged round us;
there was scarce time for a prayer, none for form or ceremony. A
foaming billow came thundering against the bows; over the deck it swept.
We clung for our lives to ropes, stanchions, and ring-bolts. When it
had passed we found that it had borne our young shipmate to his ocean
grave.