The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. While the strife raged between the principals, the watermen in the larger wherry were occupied in stemming the force of the torrent, and endeavouring to keep the boats, they had lashed together, stationary. They must be for your father. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. Here, Caliban, attend to the door, and keep the wicket locked till I return. ‘What do we do now?’ Gerald took a pace towards the girl. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. He looked at her, his eyes filled with excited terror and astonishment at her move.
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