without apparent alarm or taking any notice of our presence.  He was a monster, nearly nine feet in length, and as he came alongside, his back fin rose some inches above the surface.  He did not seem inclined to seize the pork until Lapworth had it quickly jerked up, when the brute made a dash at it, half turning as he did so, and at the same instant received the harpoon through his neck.  I recollect the monster turning over on his back, Lapworth swinging himself over into the boat, a little organised commotion among the men, and in a few moments running nooses were passed over head and tail, and he was hoisted on deck and speedily despatched.  The body was cut up and divided amongst the crew, some of whom were partial to shark steak.  A piece of the backbone I secured for myself as a memento of the occasion.

As if to bear out the superstition I have mentioned, a few days subsequently a death, or rather two deaths, did actually take place; they were the twins and only children of a Scottish shepherd and his wife, both on board.  Pretty little girls of eight, as I remember them, playing about the deck, and favourites with all, they died within a day of each other.  The father was a gigantic fellow, and I have pleasant recollections of him in after years, when time and other children had helped to assuage his and his wife’s grief for the loss of their two darlings at sea by one stroke of illness.

There is something more affecting in a burial at sea than one on land.  In this instance the little body was wrapped in a white cloth, to which a small bag of coals was fastened, and laid upon a slide projecting from the stern of the vessel ready for immersion.  The captain read the Burial Service, all on board standing uncovered.  At the words “Dust to dust,” etc., the body was allowed to slide into the sea—­where it immediately disappeared.  The mother was too ill to be present, and the father’s grief was severe, as it might well be, to witness his child laid in so lonely a resting place in mid-ocean without sign or mark.  The following evening a similar scene was enacted when the body of the other little sister was committed to the deep, and the father had to be taken away before the service was completed.

No ceremonies I ever beheld impressed and affected me so much as the burial of the little twins at sea.

While in the Tropics we had occasional calms, sometimes lasting for two or three days; the sea was like molten glass, and the sun burnt like a furnace.  On such occasions we were permitted to row about within a reasonable distance of the ship, so that if a breeze suddenly sprang up we might not be left behind.  Once this very nearly occurred, when we had rowed a long way off, after what was supposed to be a whale spouting.  We suddenly felt a gentle breath of air, and noticed the glassy surface giving place to a slight disturbance.  We were a mile off the ship, but could distinctly hear the summons from aboard,