On board he gave an order for the body to be lowered and cast in the lagoon, where the sharks were patiently waiting for their prey; then with Floyd he returned to the camping ground, rowing themselves across in the ship's dinghy.
They had left on board the whole native crew with Joe to supervise them.
They beached the dinghy by the quarter boat, and walked up to the tent. Isbel was nowhere to be seen.
Schumer looked round for her, called, received no answer, and then, with his own hands, prepared to light the fire and make the supper.
The sun was now low down over the western roof, and the lagoon was filling with gold; the schooner, freed from the horror dangling at her yardarm, lay with her anchor chain taut, and the golden ripples of the incoming tide racing past her sides. She made a beautiful picture with the sunset light upon her masts and spars, the gulls flying and flitting about her, crying as they wheeled.
It was the time of the full moon, and she rose with the dark. Schumer had gone to the tent, where he had placed the letters and papers taken from the captain's coat on board the _Southern Cross_. He returned with them in his hand, and, taking his seat by the embers of the fire, he began to examine them.
He did not require a lamp; one could have read the smallest print by the moonlight now flooding the world.
It was a poor enough find. There were half a dozen letters in a woman's handwriting, mostly referring to remittances received or expected. The addresses at the head of them told nothing. "One hundred and two North Street" was the invariable heading, and for date Monday or Tuesday, without hint of the month in which they were written. "My dear Joe," they began, and the ending was always the same, "Your loving Mary." There were no envelopes to give a clew to the town they came from or the country.
"His loving Mary seemed to have a keen eye for the boodle," said Schumer. "Ah--what's this?" He had opened a letter with the printed heading: "Hakluyt & Son, Market Street, Sydney." The letter ran:
DEAR CAPTAIN WALTERS: Owing to Captain Dennison's illness we are prepared to offer you the _Southern Cross_, which is now lying in harbor. If you will call upon us to-morrow at ten-thirty sharp we will be happy to talk over the matter with you and make all arrangements. J. B. for HAKLUYT & SON.