[1] So much for burying a man at sea without saying
prayers over him."
[1] Probably Deadman's Point, a small island near Deadman's Bay,
off the eastern coast of Newfoundland.
The thunder gust which had hitherto detained the company was now at
an end. The cuckoo clock in the hall told midnight; everyone
pressed to depart, for seldom was such a late hour of the night
trespassed on by these quiet burghers. As they sallied forth they
found the heavens once more serene. The storm which had lately
obscured them had rolled away, and lay piled up in fleecy masses on
the horizon, lighted up by the bright crescent of the moon, which
looked like a little silver lamp hung up in a palace of clouds.
The dismal occurrence of the night, and the dismal narrations they
had made, had left a superstitious feeling in every mind. They
cast a fearful glance at the spot where the buccaneer had
disappeared, almost expecting to see him sailing on his chest in
the cool moonshine. The trembling rays glittered along the waters,
but all was placid, and the current dimpled over the spot where he
had gone down.
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