Their knock was not responded to. Gilbert opened the
door and they went in.
The old room was very quiet. On the table were the
remnants of the little evening feast. The lamp still
burned on the corner stand. The First Mate was asleep
in a square of sunshine by the sofa.
Captain Jim lay on the sofa, with his hands clasped
over the life-book, open at the last page, lying on his
breast. His eyes were closed and on his face was a
look of the most perfect peace and happiness--the look
of one who has long sought and found at last.
"He is asleep?" whispered Anne tremulously.
Gilbert went to the sofa and bent over him for a few
moments. Then he straightened up.
"Yes, he sleeps--well," he added quietly. "Anne,
Captain Jim has crossed the bar."
They could not know precisely at what hour he had died,
but Anne always believed that he had had his wish, and
went out when the morning came across the gulf. Out on
that shining tide his spirit drifted, over the sunrise
sea of pearl and silver, to the haven where lost
Margaret waited, beyond the storms and calms.
Pages:
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398