For what time my brother should be gone, Wallis, the master-gunner, was left in command; and he presently ordered the lighted match to be fastened in the waist, and three more matches to be made, and disposed severally on the larboard, at the head, and on the poop. Sentinels, moreover, were posted all round the ship.

An hour passed. Silence was fallen upon the ship; for some had gone below, and the rest (saving the sentinels) lay sleeping and waking between the guns. The waterfall sounded but faint, and the breakers beat with a low clamour that seemed muffled by the cloak of the darkness. Suddenly, from a point close at hand on the shore, came a sound of singing!

Sweet and tuneful was the note, and full and lovely as the voice of a celestial being; an exceeding melodious high treble, so that it seemed to be no mortal that sang, but a spirit from High Heaven. And thus it was:

And suddenly it ceased. Clear on the silent night was borne a cry—a loud, long-drawn, quavering cry that told of terror and suffering and the plucking forth of a life. Falling at that season, and amid those dark and dreadful mysteries, it was a thing to make the blood of the boldest run cold.

Yet sorrow took hold on me at the sound; for I knew the voice: it was the death-cry of my brother.

The rest of the night passed uneventful. I remained on deck, weeping and brooding.

I was sensible of having grown suddenly older, of having from a lad changed into a careworn man.