PAUL BALINGO. 57

night. This was beyond the strength of those
who still survived.

‘T see to it, sir,’ said Paul.

‘The sooner the better then,’ observed the
captain. ‘And when you return we will trip
the anchor, if there is wind enough to help us
along.’

Four bodies were lowered into the canoe, and
Paul and some of his companions took them on
shore. He had fastened them up in canvas, for
there was no time to make coffins; indeed, the
carpenter was among them. I should like to have
accompanied him to pay the last mark of respect
I could to the poor fellows, but there were too
many duties to be performed on board to allow of
this. I watched them, however, through the glass
as they stood on the beach, which formed our
burial place. To my surprise, after the graves
were dug, I observed Paul Balingo take off his hat
—his companions imitating his example—when he
seemed to be lifting up his hands in prayer. Then
he addressed a number of natives who were stand-
ing round, and the bodies were carefully lowered
into the graves, and covered up.

When he returned on board I told him that the