BURIAL AT SEA--AT WHICH RILEY OFFICIATES
At eight o'clock I called Riley and Old Charlie aft to the cabin.
"Riley," said I, opening the door to the Captain's room, "I want you and
Charlie to sew the Captain's body in this tarpaulin, while I go and find
something to sink it with. Roll him over towards the partition, then
roll him back onto the hatch-cover, then gather it in at both ends."
"Aye, aye, sir, and shure it is meself that has sewed many av thim up."
In the boatswain's locker I found plenty of old chain bolts and
shackles. I had one of the crew carry them to the weather main rigging.
While going down the companion-way to see how Riley and Charlie were
getting along with their sewing, I thought, by a sudden noise, that they
had begun to quarrel.
"Where the divil did you ever sew up a dead man?" came in Riley's voice,
and "Damn you, pull that flap down over his face." Then I could hear
boots and glasses being thrown around. "Get out of here, you black
divil, it's eating your master you would be doing, pss-cat, pss-cat, you
dirty, hungry-looking tiger!"
Then all was still for a few seconds. Then Old Charlie's voice saying,
"Mike Riley, this is a terrible calamity that has happened to us, the
loss of our captain. And Riley, this is not all. I am afraid there will
be more."
"Ah, go wan wit your platting," said Riley, "Pull the seam tight around
his neck. That is the way. Now sew it with a herring-bone stitch. Hould
on a minute, Charlie, till I get me last look at him. Faith, and be my
sowl, he wasn't a very bad-looking man."
Here I walked into the room, saying: "When you are finished I will get
you more help to carry him on deck. But leave a place open at the head
so that we can put the weights in."
"Sinking him by the head is it you are, sir? Glory be to God, don't do
that. Let him go down feet first, sir. Be Hivins, if you put him down be
the head we will have the divil's own luck! I remember wan time on the
auld lime-juicer 'King of the Seas,' the second mate died. We weighed
him down by the head--begob, and it wasn't a week till ivery man av us
had the scurvy."
"Riley," I laughed, "you are a very superstitious man."
"It's you that are mistaken, sir. Sure an I'm anything but that, sir."
The cook interrupted us to ask if he could help in any way. I told him
to help Charlie and Riley carry the body up on deck. Riley at once took
command. "Charlie, you take the head, I will take the feet, and,
Steward, you can help in the middle. Are you all ready? Up wit him,
then,--be Hivins isn't he heavy?"
Charlie started towards the door so as to take the body out head first.
Riley promptly objected to this move, and propped the feet on the edge
of the berth while he asserted his authority.
"And it's take him out be the head ye'd be after doing? Where in blazes
did you come from? Oh, you poor auld divil you! Whoever heard of takin'
a corpse out head first. Turn him around, bad luck to you, with his feet
out. Sure, an it's walk out on his feet he would, if he were on thim.
Niver do that, Charlie, me boy, if ye want to prosper in this life."
We pulled two planks from the deck-load, and spiked cross-pieces on,
while Riley supervised the weighing-down. Then all was ready to commit
the body to the deep blue sea.
While the second mate was back-filling the foresail and hauling the
main-jib to windward, to stop the ship for sea-burial, I fell to
thinking of our Captain. Here he was, in the prime of life, about to be
cast into the sea. No one to love him, no one to care, none but the
rough if kindly hands of sailors to guide him to his resting-place. As I
glanced around the horizon, and the broad expanse of the Pacific, I was
overcome by loneliness. Ships might come and ships might go, and still
there would be no sign of his last resting-place, no chance to pay
respects to the upright seaman, the devoted husband and father. The
silent ocean currents, responsible to no one, would be drifting him
hither and thither.
The last few days and the terrible fight were telling upon me.
I was astonished to look around and find that I was alone with the
dead. The only other person on deck was Broken-Nosed Pete at the wheel.
I went forward and sung out: "Come forward, some of you, and lend a hand
here."
"Aye, aye, sir; we are coming," answered Riley's brogue.
There was something about Riley, in his simple seriousness and appeal to
my humor, that was a great help to me just now. They came aft, every one
of them, in their best clothes, with shined and squeaky shoes, looking
very solemn. "Here," said I, "take a hand and shove the planks out so
that the body will clear the bulwark rail when she rolls to windward." I
was about to give the order to tip the plank, when I was interrupted by
Riley saying excitedly: "Lord God, sir, aren't you going to say
something over him?"
"Riley," I said as the crew gathered around, "I have nothing to say,
except that I commit this body to the sea. Up with the plank."
"Hould on, hould on," cried Riley in despair. "Sure I wouldn't send a
dog over like that! I will read the Litany of the Blissed Virgin Mary,
and it don't make a damned bit av diffrunce whether he belaves it or
not. Hould on, me boy, till I get my prayer book."
Riley returned from the forecastle cursing and swearing.
"Howly Mother av Moses, they have ate the Litany out av me prayer-book,
and the poor sowl about to be throwed overboard."
"What is the matter, Riley?" I asked.
"Ah, the dirty divils! The rats has made a nest av me Holy Prayer-book!"
"Sanctified rats--" I was beginning profanely, when fortunately the cook
interrupted me.
"What good will a prayer-book do him now? Your prayer-books, and flowers
and beautiful coffins are only advertisements of ignorance. The man of
thought today throws those primitive things away, or sends them back to
the savages. You men will in time come to believe in a Creative Power of
Organization, or a Material Force, but in your present state of
ignorance you are carried away by a supernatural power destined for the
poor and helpless."
While the cook was talking Riley was taking off his coat, and rolling up
his sleeves. "It is poor and helpless we are, are we? You durty, fat,
Dutch hound. Take back what you were saying," as he grabbed him by the
neck, "or be me sowl it's over you go before the Owld Man. It is
ignorant we are, and savages we are. Take that," hitting him on the jaw.
"Be Hivins and I'll not sail wit a heathen. Come on, me boys. Over wit
him."
"Here, Riley," I said, "this must stop. Don't you know that you are in
the presence of the dead? Every one has the privilege of believing what
he wants to."
"He has that, sir, but begorra, he wants to keep it to himself."
"Men," said I, "we will raise the plank. While we are doing it let us
sing, 'Nearer, my God, to Thee.'"
While we were singing the beautiful hymn, the old ship we loved so well
seemed to feel this solemn occasion. Although held in irons by having
her sails aback, she did salute to her former captain by some strange
freak of the sea, coming up in the wind, and shaking her sails.
Before we finished the singing the cook was leading in a rich tenor
voice, and by the time that the last sound had died away, our Captain
had slid off into the deep.
* * * * *
"Let go your main jib to windward, haul in the fore-boom sheet." To the
man at the wheel, "Let her go off to her course again."