faculties, for he sat, a stony image of despair, looking with
staring, vacant eyes at the spot where his enemy would appear; while
as for me, dreading I knew not what, I clung to the rock and listened
breathlessly to the sound of the footsteps as they came nearer and
nearer. Presently, within about fifteen feet, as I guess, of our
hiding-place, they suddenly ceased, and a full, rich voice broke out
in song--

"Sing hey! for the dead man's eyes, my lads;
Sing ho! for the dead man's hand;
For his glittering eyes are the salt sea's prize,
And his fingers clutch the sand, my lads--
Sing ho! how they grip the land!

"Sing hey! for the dead man's lips, my lads;
Sing ho! for the dead man's soul.
At his red, red lips the merrymaid sips
For the kiss that his sweetheart stole, my lads--
Sing ho! for the bell shall toll!"

The words were full and clear upon the morning air--so clear that
their weird horror, together with the strangeness of the tune (which
had a curious catch in the last line but one) and, above all, the
sweetness of the voice, held me spellbound. I glanced again at my
companion. He had not changed his position, but still sat
motionless, save that his dry lips were again working and twitching
as though they tried to follow the words of the song. Presently the
footsteps again began to advance, and again the voice broke out--

"So it's hey! for the homeward bound, my lads,