Flint
Brothers.
As quick interment was necessary in such a climate, even on that very
day, I went to call Jackson in order that he might perform the duty
that was his--that of reading the burial service over the dead, and of
sealing up the desk and effects of Mr. Bransome. But Jackson was not in
the factory. I guessed, however, where he was; and sure enough I found
him in his accustomed haunt at the end of the Point. The moment he saw
me he tried to hide himself among the brushwood, but I was too quick for
him, and spied him as he crouched behind a dwarf palm.
"I know, I know," he cried, as I ran up to him; "I saw you come along
the beach. Bury them, bury them out of sight."
"Come, Mr. Jackson," I replied, "it isn't fair to put all the trouble on
to me. I am sure I have had enough of the weariness and anxiety of this
sad business. You must take your share of it. I want you to read the
service for the dead over them."
"No, no," he almost shrieked; "bury them quick; never mind me. Put them
out of sight."
"I will not," I said, resolutely. "For your own sake you must, at any
rate, view the bodies.
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