It looked to me that Mr.Pike and Mr.Mellaire did the work.

All Captain West did was to smoke cigars and keep blissfully oblivious of the _Elsinore's_ crew.
When Mr.Pike had played the "Hallelujah Chorus" from the _Messiah_, and "He Shall Feed His Flock," he mentioned to me, almost apologetically, that he liked sacred music, and for the reason, perhaps, that for a short period, a child ashore in San Francisco, he had been a choir boy.
"And then I hit the dominie over the head with a baseball bat and sneaked off to sea again," he concluded with a harsh laugh.
And thereat he fell to dreaming while he played Meyerbeer's "King of Heaven," and Mendelssohn's "O Rest in the Lord." When one bell struck, at quarter to eight, he carried his music, all carefully wrapped, back into his room.

I lingered with him while he rolled a cigarette ere eight bells struck.
"I've got a lot more good things," he said confidentially: "Coenen's 'Come Unto Me,' and Faure's 'Crucifix'; and there's 'O Salutaris,' and 'Lead, Kindly Light' by the Trinity Choir; and 'Jesu, Lover of My Soul' would just melt your heart.

I'll play 'em for you some night." "Do you believe in them ?" I was led to ask by his rapt expression and by the picture of his brute-driving hands which I could not shake from my consciousness.
He hesitated perceptibly, then replied: "I do.

.