"Got him already!" (with a certain grim satisfaction).

"That's what I call quick work." Then we turned to the poor captain, and carried him as gently as we could over the rough ground to the biggest of the banana holes, as the natives call them, and there we were able to dig him a fairly respectable grave.
"Do you know the funeral service, Tom ?" I asked.
"No, sar, can't say as I do, though I seem to have heard it pretty often." "Wait a minute.

I've got a Bible aboard, I'll go and get it." "I'd rather go with you, sar, if you don't mind." "Why, you're surely not frightened of the poor fellow here, are you, Tom ?" "Well, sar, I don't say as I'm exactly that; but somehow he seems kind of lonesome; and, if you don't mind--" So we went off, and were back in a few moments with the Bible, and I read those passages, from Job and the Psalms, immemorially associated with the passage of the dead: _"Man, that is born of woman, is of few days, and full of trouble.

He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: He fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not--;_ and again: _Behold Thou hast made my days as a hand-breadth: and mine age is as nothing before Thee: Verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity.

Surely every man walketh in a vain show: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.