"The "Water Lily" and her Crew" (continued 7)

A shock, as if the cutter had struck upon a rock—a dull, heavy boom—and the fragments of the burning brig were scattered far and wide, to come pelting down again the next minute in a perfect shower of charred and splintered wood, spars, ropes, and the thousand-and-one other matters usually found on board a ship. The brig’s powder magazine had blown up. A heavy cloud of dark smoke marked the spot where the explosion had taken place; and when it drifted away before the fresh morning breeze, one or two half-burnt timbers floating on the water were all that remained of the Albatross.

“Ah!” exclaimed Bob, who was busy coiling down the various halliards, etc., “I’ve been expectin’ that any time this past half-hour, and I only wonder it didn’t happen afore. Well, that’s a good endin’ to a good job well begun, and I reckon them chaps ashore there may’s well make up their minds to stay where they be for the rest of their nat’ral lives, for they’ve neither ship nor boats, nor stuff to build ’em with either. I don’t reckon there’s many trees on yon island that’d be much use in a ship-buildin’ yard.”

“No, said I. I think we may safely consider that their career of crime and bloodshed is put an effectual stop to, for some time at least; unless, indeed, some unfortunate ship should come to the island, in which case they would have her to a certainty.”

“Ay,” returned Bob, “but that’s a very onlikely chance. These here islands don’t lie in the road to nowhere, and it may be years afore they sets eyes on a sail again after they loses sight of that good-lookin’ topsail of ourn. I s’pose they won’t starve there, will they, lad?”

“No,” said I, “there is very little fear of that. The island yields an abundance of fruit, as you know, amply sufficient for all their requirements; and they have their punt, which will serve them to go fishing on the lagoon, though she is too small for any of them to venture to leave the island in her. So, on the whole, I think they are quite as well off as they deserve.”

We were by this time clear of the reef and in open water, so I went down to breakfast, leaving Bob at the tiller. Ella was very penitent for her late “naughtiness”, as she termed it, and was so lavish with her endearments, to make up for it, that I would very willingly have experienced such a “thunder-squall” every day of my life to have the air cleared afterwards in so agreeable a manner.

When I returned to the deck, Bob asked me, previous to his going below to get his breakfast, what I intended to do with the boats and the canoe, all of which were in tow. I had not thought very much about it, but now that the question was put, I decided to retain the canoe altogether. She was so small and so light that I thought we could easily carry her on deck in anything but very bad weather, and, ordinarily, she would tow very comfortably astern. If we could contrive to keep her, I thought, she would frequently save wear and tear in our tube-boat; and where a passage of a short distance across the calm surface of a lagoon, from the cutter to the shore, was all that was required, she would answer the purpose perfectly well. As to the boats of the Albatross, I decided to tow them fairly out of sight of the island, and then abandon them; thus effectually precluding the possibility of their getting back into their owners’ hands, the prevailing winds there being from about south-east, which would drive the boats ever farther and farther from the island. We accordingly retained them in tow for the remainder of that day and all next night, and cast them adrift on the following morning.

We were now within two days’ easy sail of the spot which had been indicated to me as the position of the treasure-island and our thoughts naturally reverted to the question as to whether the treasure really existed or not; Bob feeling the utmost confidence that it would be found precisely as the dying Spaniard had described it, whilst I began to entertain grave doubts as to our success. The important conversation in which the existence and position of the treasure were revealed was recalled, almost word for word, and the notes which I had made at the time were frequently referred to: and certainly everything seemed to abundantly justify Bob’s confidence, whilst I was quite unable to point to a single word or circumstance tending to confirm my doubts; the fact is, I suppose, that as we drew nearer to our goal, and began to realise more fully the vast influence which the possession of the treasure would exercise upon our future, I must have been influenced by a feeling that it was “too good to be true.” There was so very decided an infusion of the romantic element into everything connected with the affair, that my matter-of-fact mind refused to accept the possibility that there might be truth in it after all. I was young then, but I have now lived long enough and seen enough of the world to feel convinced that romance enters so largely into the ordinary circumstances of life, that any middle-aged man might easily furnish, from his own experience, materials for half-a-dozen sensation novels and I believe that no novel that was ever written is half as sensational as would be a minute and strictly true record of the incidents marking the life of such a man. I have in my mind at this moment a man whose life and occupation has for many years been apparently of the dullest and most commonplace description. To every one but myself he has appeared to be simply a thorough business-man, punctual to the minute—almost to the second—methodical, accurate, without a thought, apparently, for anything but business; his very conversation being brilliant only on matters connected with business; he is, in short, with those who know him pretty well, and even with his own kith and kin, about the very last man who would ever be supposed to know anything about romance, beyond its name. Yet circumstances have revealed to me, beyond all possibility of cavil or doubt, that this man has been the hero of a romance, so thrilling, so startling, so very extraordinary in all its phases, that it would indubitably make the fortune of the great sensation novelist of the day forthwith, if that gentleman’s fortune be not already made.

But to return to the Water Lily. On the evening of the day following that on which we sailed from the pirate’s island, we found ourselves so near the reputed position of the treasure-island that I decided to heave the cutter to for the night, so as to avoid the possibility of running upon the outlying reef during the darkness. Bob went aloft the last thing, after the sun had set and before darkness closed down upon the face of the tranquil ocean, but he could see nothing that he was able to identify with certainty as land. On the extreme verge of the western horizon he saw, he said, something which might be an island; but evening clouds, especially in fine weather and when low down on the horizon, sometimes assume such forms and hues that it is very difficult for even the most experienced mariner to decide whether what he is looking at is land or merely vapour, particularly when land is known or supposed to exist in the direction in which he is looking.

We took in our spinnaker and gaff-topsail therefore, housed the topmast, lashed our helm a-lee, and hauled the fore-sheet over to windward, allowing; the jib-sheet to flow. It was my eight hours in, that night: but it was so close below and the weather was so fine, that I brought my hammock on deck and turned in there, with a waterproof-rug rigged tent-fashion over me, to keep off the dew.

Nothing occurred to disturb the tranquillity of the night; and next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, we filled away upon the cutter again and made sail upon our course. Bob should have been in his hammock, or taking his rest in some other fashion, between breakfast-time and noon; but he was so anxious to catch a glimpse of the spot which had attracted us over so many thousand miles of ocean, and had led us to brave so many dangers, that he could not stay below, and he spent the entire morning at the crosstrees on the look-out. I obtained a most excellent observation for longitude, about half-past nine that morning, and on working it up I found that we were barely twenty miles to the eastward of the point we were aiming for: and as we had hove the cutter about at midnight, so as to keep her as nearly as possible directly to windward of the spot, we ought to have been at anchor at noon. But mile after mile was traversed, and still no land appeared rearing itself above the horizon, and at length the time arrived for me to take my meridian altitude. This also was a very capital observation; and its result was that we found ourselves exactly where the island was stated to be situated, with no land in sight in any direction from the mast-head.

I must confess that, in spite of the doubts which had lately obtruded themselves upon my mind, I felt keenly disappointed; and as for Bob, he was so chop-fallen that he had not a word to say.

It was not until I had carefully gone once more over my calculations of that day, and had verified the error in our chronometer for which I had made allowance, and had, in short, satisfied myself thoroughly that we actually were where we supposed ourselves to be, that I realised how strongly, notwithstanding my doubts, I had relied upon finding the island and its buried treasure. So far as the primary object of the voyage was concerned, it appeared that it had been undertaken in vain; and had it not been for our accidental acquisition of intelligence respecting my father, we should now have been without an object for the further prosecution of the voyage, excepting that of returning home again as quickly as possible, to secure the best berths we could, and make up, as far as might be, for lost time.

We had hove the cutter to whilst I was taking and working up my noon observation; and, as soon as we had fully realised our great disappointment, I got out the chart, and Bob and I pored over it for a full hour in the endeavour to fix upon the one island out of the many in the great Archipelago which was most likely to be the one upon which the Amazon was cast away. However, there were so many, all of which would answer equally well to the imperfect description which we had received, that we were at last obliged to give it up and revert to our original resolution of examining all the likely places, in the hope that we should be more successful in our second search than we had proved in our first.

We therefore filled away upon the cutter again, upon such a course as would take us up through the thickest cluster of islands; and, such is the elasticity of the human mind, before night closed down upon us we appeared to have almost forgotten everything connected with the treasure-island, and thought and spoke of nothing but the chances in favour of and against the finding of my father.

Volume Two—Chapter Eight.

My Father.

As the sun went down the wind fell light, and we did not average more than four knots an hour all through the three night-watches. I was at first afraid that we were about to have another hurricane, as it is not usual for the breeze to fall so light as we had it just then in the trades. But the glass was high and steady, and the weather looked settled, so I did not shorten sail; and when the sun rose next morning he brought the breeze up again somewhat fresher with him.

It was my eight hours out that night; consequently I was on deck when day broke. As morning dawned, and the obscurity of night yielded imperceptibly before the approaches of the great day-god, I became conscious that there was a break in the level of the horizon, about four points on my starboard-bow; and, watching this as it continued to grow lighter, I found that it was land, a small and low island apparently, about nine miles distant.

I was rather surprised at this, as according to our chart, which was constructed from the most recent surveys, the nearest land was fully a day’s sail distant to the westward.

I decided to take a nearer look at the place, and as this would involve a deviation from the course which the cutter was then steering, and would necessitate a jibe, I left the helm for a moment with a couple of turns of the tiller-rope round the head of the tiller, and went forward to take in the spinnaker.

Formerly we had considered it necessary that both Bob and I should be on deck when handling this large sail; but practice had by this time taught us both how to work the cutter alone, so that it was now only on occasions of emergency that either called the other to assist in making or shortening sail.

As the Water Lily drew in closer with the land, I made out that it was a small coral island, with the usual encircling reef and lagoon. It seemed to be about two miles long, but, from the direction in which the cutter was approaching it, I was unable to judge of its width.

I was soon near enough to distinguish the line of surf which betrayed the presence of the surrounding coral-reef, and I then called Bob to come on deck and take the helm, whilst I went aloft, as usual, to look out for a channel.

When he came on deck—

“Why, Harry, how’s this?” he exclaimed. “I thought you said there wasn’t no land within a hundred and fifty mile of us last night, and here’s as pretty a little spot, close aboard of us, as a man need wish to set his eyes upon.”

“I went by the chart,” I answered, “and that showed a clear sea all about here. But you can never rely upon a chart here, in the Pacific; what is clear sea at the time that a survey is being made, may very possibly be dotted with a score of such small islands as the one ahead in a very few years. I have read that coral islands form very rapidly. This one, however, cannot be of such very recent growth, for there are full-grown cocoa-nuts upon it, as well as other trees; I am surprised that it is not shown on the chart.”

I said this as I was standing at the foot of the mast, and on the point of going aloft. In a few seconds more I was standing on the crosstrees and examining the line of surf ahead for the narrow strip of unbroken water which would indicate the existence of a passage through the reef. As I stood thus, my gaze was arrested by the appearance of a small object in rapid motion across the bosom of the lagoon inside the reef, and a scrutiny of a few seconds was sufficient to satisfy me that it was a canoe. Seating myself upon the crosstrees, that I might more conveniently use the glass which I had taken aloft with me, I quickly focussed the instrument and brought it to bear. With its assistance, I was now enabled to discern that the canoe was a craft of about the same size as the one which we had towing astern, and it held three persons. The two who wielded the paddles were black, but, unless my eyes strangely deceived me, the third was a white man.

I cannot attempt to describe the extraordinary feeling which came upon me at this discovery.

“Can it be possible,” thought I, “that this is the island upon which the Amazon was cast away, and am I about to have the inexpressible joy of seeing my beloved father once more, and so unexpectedly as this?” I again had recourse to the glass, and being now somewhat nearer, I no longer had any room for doubt; the individual who sat in the stern of the canoe, and who, I now saw, was steering the craft with a paddle, was undoubtedly white. I now observed, too, that the canoe was passing through an opening in the south-western edge of the reef. The passage would have escaped my notice in the then position of the cutter, had it not been for seeing the canoe passing through it, for it was broadside-on to us, as it were, and the unbroken water was therefore not easily detected. I turned my telescope upon the island, and now saw a thin film of light blue smoke, as from a wood fire, rising from among the trees; but there was no sign of a wreck of any description within view, and if anything of the kind existed, it must be on the other side of the island.

The canoe was by this time in open water, and I saw that she was paddling along the edge of the reef towards us. Bob now made her out from the deck, and hailed me, asking if I saw her. I answered that I did, and, in an uncontrollable tumult of excitement, descended to the deck. I directed Bob to keep the cutter away for the canoe, for, strangely enough, the thought never entered my head that her occupants might be enemies. I ran down below and got up our club-ensign, which I hoisted at the peak, and as it blew out in the fresh morning breeze, we saw the figure in the stern of the canoe rise to his feet and wave his hat. I took up my glass once more, and was now able to make out that this figure was tall, deeply bronzed by the sun, and had grey hair and a thick bushy grey beard.

“That is a white man, Bob, in that canoe,” said I excitedly.

“A white man!” exclaimed Bob; “then it’s the skipper, Harry, for a thousand pounds.”

“No such luck, Bob, I am afraid,” replied I; “this man is grey-haired, and my poor father’s hair was dark brown, if you recollect.”

“True,” answered Bob; “but if not the skipper hisself, it may be somebody belonging to him.”

“That cannot be, either,” I returned; “for according to the account we received from the seaman, there was no one left with him but the chief mate, who, I presume, was Winter—who, you will recollect, was put into your berth when you met with your accident; and Winter was quite a young man—scarcely thirty, I believe.”

“Well, whoever it may be, we shall soon find out all about him now, for we shall be alongside the little hooker in another five minutes,” remarked Bob philosophically, but with evident disappointment in the tone of his voice.

This was true, for we were nearing the canoe fast. I again had recourse to my telescope, and with its assistance, was now able to see with perfect distinctness the occupants of the canoe. I scanned with the greatest intentness the features of him who was steering, and who was facing directly towards us; and as I did so, in a tumult of the most painful agitation and suspense, feature after feature once more became familiar, and notwithstanding the grey hair and beard, I at length recognised, with unspeakable joy, my father.

“Hurrah!” I shouted; “hurrah! it is he—it is my father, Bob; and we have found him after all, and that when we little expected to do so. Thank God; oh! thank God!”

“Amen,” answered Bob, taking off his tarpaulin reverently for a moment, while the tears rolled down his weather-beaten cheeks.

We took room, and rounded the cutter to, and as she came up into the wind, with all her canvas shaking, the natives vigorously plied their paddles, and with a few lusty strokes shot their light craft alongside.

I went to the gangway, and held out my hand to assist my father in over our low bulwarks, whilst Bob hove the end of a coil of line into the canoe, shouting to the blacks, “Now then, darkies, look out, and catch a turn with this here rope’s-end, will ye? for if you goes astarn, you’ll have all your work afore ye to overhaul us and get alongside again.”

“Good Heaven! that voice—surely I should know it,” murmured my father. “Thank you, sir. Yours is the first sail I have seen for—Why, how is this?”

I had been unable to control myself any longer; and, to my father’s infinite surprise, he suddenly found himself in my embrace, and, as suddenly, recognised the tones of the voice which called him “father.”

I thought the dear old man would have fainted, but he rallied himself with a powerful effort, though it was some little time before he could speak. At length—

“My son! my noble boy Harry,” exclaimed he. “Great God! Merciful Father! I thank Thee for this great and unexpected mercy. Little did I think, my dear boy, when I saw your white sails standing in for the island, what unexpected happiness awaited me. And, if I mistake not,” added he, “this is my old friend and staunch shipmate, Robert Trunnion. This is indeed a happy day for me,” grasping Bob’s hand heartily, “a day I have despaired of ever seeing again. But, tell me, what has happened, and how come you to be here in this small cockle-shell of a craft? You surely cannot have been cast away, and have built her yourselves. If you have, you are wonderfully good shipwrights. And how came you to find out that I was here? or is this happy meeting the result of accident? Everything is so surprising that I feel perfectly bewildered.”

“You shall know all, dear sir, in good time,” I answered. “The story is too long to be told in a breath. Let us get inside, and come to an anchor; and as soon as we are sufficiently recovered from our present excitement to tell an intelligible tale, you shall know everything.”

“Well, well, so be it,” answered my father; “and I suppose I had better play pilot in navigating this ‘seventy-four’ of yours through the channel. What water do you draw?”

“Seven feet aft,” I answered, “and she works to perfection; so you will have no difficulty with her.”

“So much the better,” answered my father, “as it will be rather ticklish work. Keep her well to windward, Robert; do not go closer than forty fathoms to the southern extremity of the surf. And now, my dear boy, one word more. How is your sister?”

“Well; quite well, I am happy to say. At least, she was so when we left England, little more than four months ago,” I answered; “and so was everybody else in whom we are interested.”

“I am delighted beyond measure to hear it,” returned my father; “this is good news, better than I could have dared to hope. Now keep her away, Robert. Starboard your helm—hard a-starboard; so, steady now as you go. Do you see the opening of the channel? Steer as straight as you like for it. This will be a surprise for Winter, indeed.”

“He is still with you, then, dear sir?” said I. “I trust he is in good health.”

“Yes, I am happy to say he is quite well,” returned my father. “Indeed we have neither of us had a day’s illness since we have been on the island. I was quite an invalid at the time that the ship was lost, certainly but I soon recovered, thanks to Winter’s care and good nursing. But how did you know of his being with me?”

“We learned your whole story, from the time of your sailing for home up to the day of your being so shamefully abandoned,” I replied, “and that by the merest accident. We happened to fall in with one of the men whom you shipped at Canton, on board a vessel which we boarded on the line, on our passage out. But here is some one with whom I must make you acquainted, dear sir,” I continued, as Ella’s fair head appeared at the companion.

I then introduced her to my father, briefly narrating the circumstances under which she became a member of our little crew, and frankly explaining the relation in which we now stood towards each other. When I had finished my explanation, my father took the dear little girl by the hand, kissed her on the forehead, and said a few kind words to relieve the embarrassment and agitation under which it was evident she was suffering; and I had the very great satisfaction of seeing that these two beings, in whom I was so warmly interested, were mutually impressed very favourably towards each other.

We soon worked through the short passage in the reef, and then stood away to the westward, rounding the southern extremity of the island very shortly afterwards. The moment that we cleared this point, and opened the western side of the island, Bob shouted, “Ah! there lies the dear old barkie, sure enough. Look at her, Harry, lad. She’s sorely mauled about, poor old beauty, but I should still ha’ knowed her anywheres, as far as these old eyes could see her.”

There, indeed, lay the wreck of the Amazon, close to the beach, about two miles off, and sorely mauled about she was; so much so, that I greatly doubted whether Bob would ever have identified her as our old ship, had not my father’s presence, and the story we had already heard of her loss, assisted him. Her three lower masts were still standing, but the whole of her upper works were gone, and I at first supposed that they had been used for fire-wood, until we opened up a tiny bay somewhat nearer us to the southward, and saw a small vessel in process of being built on the beach.

“You have established a shipyard here, I see, sir,” I remarked, as this object came in view.

“Yes,” answered my father; “but we have made but poor progress, so far. You will be of the greatest assistance to us, my dear boy—you and Robert here. Since you have managed to turn out such a sweet little craft as this cutter, I shall be strongly inclined to pull our work to pieces and begin all over again afresh.”

“How do you mean, sir?” I inquired. “You surely do not imagine that Bob and I built this cutter?”

“Did you not?” returned my father. “Then where did you pick her up?”

“She was built on the Thames,” I replied; “and Bob and I have managed to bring her out here between us.”

My father was greatly surprised at hearing this, but as we were now approaching the anchorage, it was decided to defer all explanations until we could have an opportunity of proceeding with them in a straightforward fashion. Sail was shortened, and in about ten minutes afterwards we dropped our anchor in a pretty little well-sheltered bay, within a couple of cables’ length of the beach, and in full view of a neat little cottage constructed of bamboo, which stood on a lawn of about an acre in extent, environed with beautiful tropical trees and plants.

Winter was down on the beach full of curiosity respecting the new-comers, and I will leave to the reader’s imagination the surprise and delight with which he recognised in them two of his old shipmates.

The two canoes conveyed all hands of us ashore, and my father, after welcoming us heartily to “his dominions” as we stepped from the canoes to the beach, gave his arm to Ella, and with me on his other side, and Bob and Winter following arm-in-arm astern, and the two natives bringing up the rear, we at once wended our way to the cottage, where we found that Winter had prepared a sumptuous breakfast in anticipation of our arrival.

Whilst discussing this meal, I related, at my father’s earnest solicitation, our whole story, commencing with an account of the wreck on Portland beach, and of the tale of the treasure-island told by the dying Spaniard, and then going on to relate how we had been induced, by a belief in this story, to build and fit out the Water Lily and sail in her in search of the treasure, mentioning, in due course, our meeting with the seaman who had given us a clue to the Amazon’s fate, and of our resolve, therefore, to search the whole Archipelago, if need be, for the abandoned ones; and winding up with an account of our late achievement of the destruction of the Albatross, and of the consequent imprisonment of her crew upon the island we had so recently sailed from.

Great was the surprise of my father and his companion as I proceeded, and frequent their comments and interruptions; but at last I got through with it, and then, of course, I became anxious, in my turn, to hear how matters had gone with my father and Winter during their long stay where they now were.

“I have very little to tell,” replied my father, in answer to my questions; “and that little I should not now be alive to relate, but for the unceasing care and attention of my friend and comrade, Winter, here, who refused to save himself from a possible lifetime of captivity on this island by deserting his commander. He watched me all through a long and tedious illness, and, under God, was the means of saving my life for this happy moment. We have never quite despaired of being restored to home and friends, but latterly we have felt that our deliverance might be the work of years. At first, we were kept buoyed up by the hope of being rescued by some passing vessel; but, though we have maintained a ceaseless watch, we have never sighted a single sail from the moment of our first arrival here until you hove in sight this morning. All my charts and instruments of every description were carried off when the mutineers left in the boats, so that I have but a very remote idea of our actual whereabouts, but we must be in a very out-of-the-way corner of the globe, as indeed I now gather clearly from what you have told me. Our first work, after my recovery, was the building of this hut: and then followed the preparation of a garden, a short distance inland from here, so that we might secure the means of existence. As soon as this was completed to our satisfaction, we went to work upon the building of a small vessel; but our appliances were so inadequate to the task, that our progress has been excessively slow, as you may judge when I tell you that we have been at work now fully two years, and the craft is yet barely half-finished. Latterly, indeed, we have got on somewhat better, for the two blacks—who, as far as I can learn from their signs and the few words of English they have picked up since being with us, were blown off their own island in a gale of wind, and came ashore here in the last stare of exhaustion—have been of the greatest assistance to us in the mere handling of heavy weights; and now that you have joined us, I think we may make short work of the remainder of the job.”

I was at first disposed to suggest the abandonment of the half-finished schooner (for such she was), but, on more mature consideration, I came to the conclusion that it would be better to finish her, on many accounts—the chief of which was that as we now mustered seven hands, all told, including the blacks, whom we could not leave behind, we should be uncomfortably crowded on board the cutter; and I doubted much whether we could find room to stow away, in so small a craft, a sufficiency of water, to say nothing of provisions for so large a party.

The day was, of course, declared a high holiday on the island; and, after our mutual explanations had been fully given, we all—the whites, of course, that is—proceeded to the beach to inspect the craft on the stocks. She was a much larger craft than the Lily, measuring fully thirty tons. My father and Winter had given a great deal of care and attention to her design, and the result was a very pretty model, though her lines were by no means so fine as the cutter’s. She was immensely strong, owing to the fact that it was less laborious to build in the timbers just as they were taken from the Amazon, or only with such alterations as were imperatively necessary to bring them to the required shape, than it would have been to reduce them with the imperfect tools in the possession of the builders. The whole of her framing was set up and secured, and the garboard and two adjacent streaks on each side bolted to and that was all. I could easily understand, as I looked on her massive timbers, how great must have been the labour for two pair of hands to bring her even thus far forward; and, in addition to this, there was the pulling of it all to pieces, in the first instance, on board the parent ship, and the rafting of the materials down to the bay afterwards.

After taking a good look at the craft, we shoved off in the canoes for the wreck, calling on board the cutter on our way, that my father and Winter might satisfy the curiosity they felt concerning the little craft which had so successfully traversed so many thousand miles of ocean. They were, naturally, delighted at everything they saw, and admired her model greatly: but were, nevertheless, loud in their expressions of wonder at what they termed our temerity in venturing on so long a voyage in such a mere boat.

A quiet paddle of about half-an-hour took us alongside the wreck, which lay grounded in about ten feet of water, pretty much as she had been left by the mutineers. We had no difficulty in boarding, a substantial accommodation-ladder having been constructed to facilitate so frequent an operation. There was not much to see when we stood upon her deck—the whole of the poop having been removed to furnish materials for the schooner; but Bob and I naturally felt a deep interest in the ship which had formerly been our floating home, and as to whose fate we had for so long been in a state of such painful uncertainty.

We remained on board about an hour, during which Ella insisted on having pointed out to her the exact spot which my old berth had formerly occupied; and then we returned to the shore and visited the garden, which had been formed in a small natural clearing within about a quarter of a mile of the house. Here we found a goodly patch of wheat, almost ready for the sickle: a large plot of potatoes, which, my father said, grew but indifferently well in that climate a few other English vegetables, some yams, and several fruit-trees of various kinds, including the very useful breadfruit, which had been carefully selected and as carefully transplanted to their present position, where they had flourished amazingly under the not very efficient gardening skill which had been bestowed upon them by the two recluses. Of animal food there was no lack, the small island being almost overrun by the many descendants of three pigs and half-a-dozen fowls, which the mutineers had, in an unaccountable paroxysm of generosity, left behind.

The remainder of the day was spent in a tour quite over my father’s limited dominions, Bob and Winter having, however, devoted the afternoon to the rigging-up of a couple of tents close alongside the hut, for the accommodation of us of the cutter’s crew. During our ramble, which Ella shared—though she at first wished to remain aloof, thinking my father and I might have private matters to discuss after so long a separation—the subject of the treasure-island again came uppermost; and my father seemed to be strongly of opinion that, in spite of our failure to find it, it really existed, and that our disappointment had arisen in some error as to its exact position. For my own part, I hardly knew what to think. I could not for a moment believe that the Spaniard, knowing himself to be a dying man, would tell a wanton and objectless falsehood; and I had never supposed him to be otherwise than in the full possession of his senses whilst relating his story. But he had given the position of the island definitely, and, on our arrival at the latitude and longitude named, we had found no land at all. True, there had been a certain amount of reservation in his statement. He had given the position “as near as he could ascertain it,” or in words to that effect; but, allowing the possibility of an error, that error was not likely to exceed a few miles, and I thought that, had the island really existed, we ought to have been able, at all events, to see it from our mast-head when in the position ascribed to it.

We talked the matter over at some length—for no one is quite indifferent to the advantages accruing from the possession of wealth—but we could make nothing very satisfactory of it; so at last the subject was changed, and we discussed and arranged our plan of immediate operations, my father’s longing for home being a thousand times increased now that he knew we had sent information home of the possibility of his still being in existence. We all fully shared in his impatience, as I knew that Ada would soon begin to feel uneasy, if she were not already so, at the long period which had now elapsed since she could last have heard from or of us. As for Winter, he was a Portland man, and the stories Bob told him of his kith and kin fully aroused his semi-dormant longings to see them all once more.

The next morning, we all turned to with a will upon the schooner. It happened that more materials were required from the wreck; and the obtaining of these, and the rafting of them down to the shipyard, had hitherto been a work involving the expenditure of much time and great labour, as, until the arrival of the two blacks in their canoe about six months before, my father had nothing in the shape of a boat, excepting a rude catamaran sort of an affair and after the acquisition of the canoe, though she was, of course, most useful for many purposes, the rafting down of the timbers and planking was almost as tedious and laborious an operation as ever, the canoe being too small and too light for towing purposes, and their usual mode of procedure had been to kedge down everything.

But our arrival put an entirely new phase upon this part of the business. We got out our tube-boat, and put her together and rigged her; and then we six men—four whites and the two natives, who were strong, active lads—manned her and the cutter, and proceeded to the wreck, where we combined our forces in taking apart such portions of the wreck as we thought most suitable for our purpose.

By the middle of the afternoon two good-sized rafts were in the water, and the Lily taking one of these in tow, and the tube-boat (which Bob insisted on christening as the Ella) the other, we got the whole down to the bay and moored to the beach in little more than an hour—a task which, my father declared had usually occupied him and Winter the best part of a day, and even then the amount of material transported had scarcely been a quarter as great as that now brought down. So great, indeed, had been the additional assistance afforded by the two pairs of strong arms belonging to the cutter’s crew, that we considered we now had a sufficiency of material to plank the schooner right up to her gunwale.

I do not know whether I have mentioned it before or not, but, in fitting out the Water Lily, I had provided a very complete chest of carpenter’s tools, so that we might have the means of effecting any necessary repairs to the cutter, as far as our skill would allow and these now came into play with excellent effect.

We all worked in high spirits, for it was now no longer a doubtful question as to whether the schooner could be finished or not, the additional strength contributed by Bob and myself being found just sufficient to render manageable, and comparatively easy, work which had before proved too heavy for my father and Winter alone, or even when aided by the two natives. These, I may as well now mention, were two lads of about eighteen years of age, and, having been treated very kindly from their first arrival by my father, proved very tractable and willing, and altogether very valuable aids in many respects.

We were none of us very skilful in the handling of tools, and our work was, consequently, of no very highly finished character but everything was as strong as wood and iron could make it, and within a fortnight we had contrived, by dint of sheer hard work, to get the schooner planked right up.

At first we had a great deal of difficulty with our fastenings, from want of a smith or a smith’s forge; and this had been the greatest bar to my father’s progress. Ella was the means of helping us out of this difficulty, by suggesting an idea which I think would never have occurred to any of us men. This was neither more nor less than the construction of a rude but efficient smith’s hearth out of some old sheet and pig iron obtained from the wreck, and the manufacture of a bellows from some boards and stout tarpaulin, the nozzle being made of bamboo, and inserted into an orifice in the hearth which was packed air-tight with clay. It was a clumsy contrivance certainly, but it answered our purpose well enough to save us a great deal of time and labour.

The laying of the deck was our next task; and it took us another fortnight to do this, as we resolved that everything should be as well done as possible. This was exclusive of the time occupied in fixing the combings of the hatch and fore-scuttle, cabin-companion, skylight, and other openings. As we “got our hands in,” however, we made more rapid progress; and, in little more than two months from the date of the Water Lily’s arrival, the hull of the schooner was completed and in readiness for the reception of her spars. These we got out of the spars of the wreck, all of which had been sent down long before by my father and Winter, and carefully stored up for this very purpose.

Another month saw these spars all shaped and fitted, and ready to be put into their places. This had been the work of my father and myself, aided in the lifting, turning over, and shifting generally by the natives, Bob and Winter busying themselves meanwhile in the manufacture of a suit of sails from those belonging to the Amazon. Our rigging was not very trustworthy, being manufactured, for the most part, out of the old rigging of the wreck; but there had been a good supply of new rope also on board, as a stand-by, and this we had used in, as far as it would go, in the most important parts.

We decided to rig the craft complete upon the stocks, and then launch her, and tow her down alongside the wreck, to take in ballast, and her water-tanks, stores, etc. This we accordingly did, finishing off everything, even to the bending of the sails; and four months to a day after the Water Lily’s arrival saw her caulked, her seams paid, her hull painted, and, in short, everything ready, even to wedging up, for launching.

Volume Two—Chapter Nine.

The Treasure.

This eventful day, it was unanimously agreed, should be observed as a strict holiday, no work except what was absolutely necessary beyond the launch being permissible. Every preparation had been completed the day before, all of us having worked like galley-slaves to achieve this result, as soon as it became apparent that launching on this day might be possible.

The morning dawned fair and serene, the sky was without a cloud, each quivering leaf and blade of grass glittered with diamond-like dew-drops, and the air was laden with the perfume of numberless flowers. Nature appeared in fact to have arrayed herself in gala attire, in honour of the occasion. Bob and Winter were up by daybreak to dress the schooner out with the flags of the old Amazon, in addition to a brand-new burgee—red, with a white border, and the name Ada, after my sister, in white letters—which floated gallantly in the breeze from the main-topmast-head, and which, I need scarcely inform the sagacious reader, was the work of Ella’s skilful finders. The cutter’s flags were equally divided between her and the tube-boat, both craft being moored a short distance apart in the little bay. Our gun, which had never been dismounted from the time of the fight with the pirate’s boats, was loaded with a blank cartridge, well rammed down, and the muzzle plentifully greased to create a louder report, so that the schooner might be honoured with a salute as she took the water; and one of the blacks was stationed on board the Water Lily, with instructions to pull the trigger-line directly he saw the schooner fairly in motion on the ways. A bottle of wine was also slung from the schooner’s stem, that the ceremony of christening might not be shorn of its usual rite.

This occupied the two mates until breakfast was ready, when we all sat down to the meal in most exuberant spirits. As soon as it was over we all proceeded to the beach, and Bob climbed on board the craft, and took his station forward, in readiness to let go the anchor as soon as she had slid far enough off from the land. Ella took up a position under the bows, supported by my father, who instructed her how to perform the ceremony of christening after the most approved fashion, whilst Winter and I stood by to knock away the spur-shores, and the second native launched and jumped into a canoe, to go alongside and fetch Bob ashore, as soon as his share of the duty was performed.

When we had all taken our stations—

“Is everybody ready?” inquired my father.

A general “Ay, ay,” was the response. Ella took the bottle of wine in her hand, and Winter and I poised our hammers.

“Then knock away with a will, lads!” exclaimed the skipper.

A few lusty strokes brought the shores down, the schooner began to move, and Ella dashed the bottle against the craft’s bows, exclaiming in a clear, silvery voice, as the wine dripped from the stem:

“God bless the Ada, and send her success and prosperity!”

We all took off our hats and cheered lustily as the schooner rushed down the ways and plunged stern foremost into the sparkling sea; the gun went off with a sharp bang, and the native gunner instantly, with a terrific yell, sprang over the side of the cutter, and struck out for the shore with all the vigour and activity that fear could impart to his movements.

The schooner clove the water smoothly and easily as she drove astern when once fairly afloat, and held her way long enough to shoot far beyond her consorts at anchor in the bay. As soon as her speed was sufficiently reduced, Bob let go his anchor, and we had the satisfaction of seeing that she floated lightly and on a perfectly even keel.

As soon as Bob came on shore, he, of course, joined us, and lent his aid in admiring and praising our own handiwork, as is pretty generally the custom with all mortals, though some are not so ingenuous in the exhibition of their actual feelings as we were. And I think we had very good reason for our admiration, for the craft was more than sightly, she was decidedly handsome, and we who had put her together were, after all, it must be remembered, only unskilled amateurs; and though I think I may, without undue vanity, say that we were all prime seamen, and knew perfectly well what constituted a handsome and wholesome craft, it is one thing to know this, and quite another to make your work correspond accurately with your ideas.

When we had admired the schooner to our hearts’ content, my father wished to know whether any one had any proposal to make as to the manner in which the remainder of the day should be spent. It appeared, from the general silence which ensued that no one had; but on glancing at Ella, who remained beside him, I noticed an eager look in her face, as though she would like to speak, but was restrained by a feeling of timidity.

“What is it, Ella?” inquired I. If no one has anything better to propose, she replied, “I think a picnic would be very nice; and I would suggest that the natives be sent on by land, with everything necessary, to the northern end of the island, opposite the poor old Amazon, of which we are so soon to see the last, and that the rest of us take Harry’s tube-boat, and sail in her quite round the island—which we new-comers have not seen very much of as yet—and stop at the point I have named.”

This, of course, we all cordially agreed to, though I could scarcely help smiling furtively at the idea of a picnic, when our lives had been a sort of continuous picnic affair ever since we had been on the island, though, it is true, our pastime had consisted principally of pretty hard work.

However, I made no remark, and we all returned to the house, and proceeded to pack up the necessary viands, etc., and to start the “niggers,” as Bob invariably termed our black aids, in the proposed direction.

When everything was ready, however, it was found that there was more than we had the conscience to ask the poor fellows to carry, willing as they were; so Ella’s programme was so far departed from as to send them by water in a canoe, instead of by land; and as soon as they were fairly away, we shoved off in the cutter’s canoe, got on board the tube-boat, hauled up her grapnel, and made sail to the southward.

Here another departure from the programme took place, for my father was curious to see how so singular a craft behaved in open water: so, as there was a nice fresh breeze blowing, and sufficient sea on outside to give him a fair idea of her qualities, we worked out through the channel as soon as we reached it, and sailed round the island outside of everything first of all, resuming the original plan as soon as we came inside again.

Both my father and Winter were much struck with the smooth and easy motion with which she took the seas, especially when going close-hauled to windward, the short, choppy head-sea which the breeze had knocked up having not the slightest perceptible retarding effect upon the sharp, gently-swelling tubes, which pierced the combing seas absolutely without any shock whatever; whereas a boat of the usual mould would have pitched and jerked into them, and half-blinded us and wholly wet us through with spray. And they were quite as much surprised at her stiffness, for her amount of heel was barely perceptible, though we were driving her through it under whole canvas; whilst had we been in the Water Lily, with a proportionate amount of sail set, she would, stiff as she was, have been lying down gunwale under.

So rapidly did she skim along over the water too, that, notwithstanding the extra distance traversed beyond that originally proposed, we were in ample time for the meal—luncheon or dinner, whichever we chose to call it—which it was arranged we should partake of picnic fashion in the open air.

I was delighted to observe that both my father and Winter keenly enjoyed this short cruise outside. It was the first time, excepting when my father came out to meet us and pilot us in, that either of them had been outside the reef; and that they were now fairly at sea, and with a staunch and good sea-boat under their feet, seemed an earnest of their easy escape almost more convincing than the fact that the vessel in which that escape was planned to be made was now actually in the water.

Having made the tour of the island both outside and inside the reef, and admired its many beauties, we at length sat down to our meal in high spirits, and with appetites which enabled us to do the most ample justice to Ella’s bounteous provision, which, it now appeared, had been in progress the whole of the previous day, in anticipation of some such arrangement as that which she had proposed.

I had noticed an unusual flutter in the dear little girl’s manner more than once during the morning, as well as considerable imperfectly repressed excitement; but I had said nothing to her about it, attributing it to that which had produced so much excitement of feeling among the rest of us, namely, the important event of the launch. This feeling of excitement still continued to animate us; but, strangely enough, Ella seemed the least able of the party to control it, and it appeared to have the effect of agitating her nerves considerably. Moreover, she seemed to be singularly preoccupied over something, answering remarks at random—sometimes when she was not addressed at all—and then flushing up and apologising confusedly.

When our meal was over, a few bottles from a small stock of carefully-hoarded wine, from the Amazon’s stores, were produced, and at Ella’s especial request, we four men proceeded to regale ourselves, and assist digestion with “the fragrant weed.” The chief topic of conversation was, of course, the arrangements to be made for a speedy departure from the island. It was decided that on the following day all hands should employ themselves in getting the schooner ballasted, provisioned and watered, and it was thought that, by hard work, all might be done in readiness for a departure at daybreak on the succeeding morning. My father, Winter, and the two blacks, were to man the schooner, whilst Ella, Bob, and myself, were to continue in the cutter, and it was, of course, a settled thing that we were to keep company as long as it was possible. We also decided upon certain rendezvous in case of being compelled, by bad weather, to part company at any particular part of the voyage. These rendezvous, I may as well mention, were Melbourne, Cape Town, Saint Helena, Saint Antonio in the Cape de Verd Group, and Madeira.

When this topic seemed pretty well exhausted, Ella remarked nervously, “It seems then, Harry, that you have quite given up the idea of making any further search for the treasure-island. I have not heard it mentioned once for—oh! ever so long.”

“I fear we must think no more of that,” I replied. “When the story was first told to me, it seemed an easy matter to sail direct to the spot, but the fact that some mistake has occurred somewhere with regard to its position, has quite thrown us out, and to look for it among the numerous islands which constitute this archipelago would be somewhat like searching for a needle in a bundle of hay, and the chances of finding either the one or the other would be about equal, I should say. If I only held a sufficient clue to warrant the slightest hope of success, I would willingly prosecute a search, but I do not.”

“Are you quite sure that you do not?” she returned, still very nervously. “Tell us the story all over again; perhaps some useful idea may suggest itself to one or other of us, if it is all gone carefully over once more.”

“Certainly I will,” said I, “if it be only to gratify you, little one; I anticipate no further result. You must know, then, Ella and gentlemen, that the Spaniard who told me this story was on his death-bed when he confided it to me. He asserted that a treasure-ship lay buried in the sandy beach of a certain island here in the Pacific, and he not only gave me the latitude and longitude of the island, but he minutely described it, so that I might recognise it at once, and he also described certain marks whereby I might be able to fix upon the exact spot in the beach where the buried treasure-ship lay.”

And I suppose you have fixed upon your mind a kind of mental picture of this island, drawn from the description given you, said Ella, “and I presume you are of opinion that you would recognise the island in a moment, if you saw it?”

“Exactly so,” I answered. “I can see it before me at this moment,”—shutting my eyes—“as distinctly as possible. There it lies, about three miles away, with the surf beating all round it; and there, in bold relief against the clear blue sky, stands the isolated clump of seven cocoa-nut trees on the extreme northernmost point of the island.”

“Somewhat like these that we are sitting under at this moment?” interrupted Ella excitedly.

“Ye-es,” said I, “certainly somewhat like these. It is curious now, but I never noticed until this moment that these trees are seven in number. If, now, any two of them were marked in any way...”

“Somewhat like this?” again interrupted Ella, as she started to her feet and placed her hand upon a very perceptible scar in the trunk of the central tree.

We sprang to our feet as one man, infinitely more excited even than Ella was, and walked up to the tree and carefully examined the mark. There was no mistake about it, the bark had been deeply cut away with a knife, and I cannot, for the life of me, say how it was that it had never attracted my attention, unless it be that the wound was now weather-stained, and by no means so conspicuous as I had pictured it in my mind; perhaps it was in a great measure due, too, to the fact that the island we were on, though answering accurately to the description given of the treasure-island, was quite unlike the picture my imagination had conjured up.

“Now for the other mark,” I exclaimed, “it is on one or other of the remaining six trees, if this really be—”

“Here it is,” again exclaimed Ella, darting to a tree which stood on the edge of the clump, and again pointing out a mark very similar to the first.

Of the nature of this mark, too, there could be no possible doubt. I seized a half-consumed stick from the embers of the expiring fire: and, getting the two marked trees in line, I walked away from them, keeping them in one, until I saw just clear of the trees and bushes on the southern extremity of the island, a small pinnacle of uncovered rock peering blackly out from among the snowy glittering surf. I then drove the stick I held in my hand deep into the sandy beach, exclaiming, “Here lies the buried treasure-ship, if there be any truth in the story.”

“We’ll soon set that question at rest,” exclaimed Bob. “Here, you two niggers, jump into this here canoe and paddle me down to the cutter as quick as you knows how. I’m off a’ter they shovels as we laid in for this here very job,” he explained, turning to me, “and I’ll be back ag’in in next to no time.”

Whilst he was gone, I sought and obtained an explanation from Ella of the manner in which she had made this most important discovery. It seemed that she had amused herself by wandering pretty nearly all over the island, whilst we were hard at work upon the schooner, and in one of her rambles her attention had been attracted to this very clump of trees. Their number had impressed itself upon her, and, endeavouring to remember what it was she had heard or dreamed connected with seven cocoa-nut trees, the story of the treasure had suddenly flashed across her mind. This led, of course, to an examination of the trees and the discovery of the marks upon them, on the day but one preceding the launch of the schooner; and, seeing that we were disposed to make the launching day a gala day, she decided to keep her own counsel until the arrival of the day itself, and to let the revelation of the discovery be made at such a time as still further to increase our reasons for rejoicing. And upon this resolution had been based her plot for the picnic.

“I am so delighted, Harry, dear,” she added in conclusion, “that it is I who have made this discovery you cannot think what a pleasure it is to a woman to contribute to the happiness and prosperity of the man she loves. And, beside this, there is the satisfaction of knowing that, if the wealth you have spoken of really lies buried here, and I have no doubt whatever that it does, you will now be under no necessity for following up a profession which must inevitably have involved long separations from me. I am so happy, dearest, for I do not think I could have endured that.”

I was deeply affected by this and frequent other evidences of the warmth and strength of Ella’s attachment to me, and of the confiding frankness with which she revealed it; and I believe most conscientiously that the greatest gratification I derived from the discovery of the treasure arose from a knowledge of the extended power it would bestow upon me to contribute to her happiness.

Bob soon returned with a couple of shovels, and, springing ashore from the canoe, he handed one to Winter, and began at once to ply the other most vigorously himself, exclaiming as he did so:

“There you are, my lad now fire away as hard as you like. There’s only a few feet of sand between us and gold enough to make all our fortin’s a dozen times over, so let’s rouse it up and have a look at it, without any more words.”

The two men worked with a will, and soon stood in a good-sized hole, about three feet deep, whilst the rest of us looked on at their labours with the keenest interest. At length Winter’s shovel struck upon something hard, and he announced the fact with a joyous shout. Bob, however, still continued working away without meeting with any resistance. A few more strokes of Winter’s shovel laid bare a small patch of damp discoloured planking, a further proof, if we needed one, of the truth of the story. Bob was still digging away as hard as ever. Presently he ceased digging, and began shovelling the loose sand off a piece of the deck or something else which he had got down to. This was soon uncovered, and we then saw that it was a piece of loose plank, which he and Winter succeeded between them in raising, and underneath it lay a dark, hollow cavity. To work they both went once more, and in a short time three more loose planks were so far uncovered as to permit of their being removed.

This accomplished, it was found that we had been so fortunate as to hit, at the first trial, upon the hole through which the Spaniard had penetrated to the innermost recesses of the ship. A Creat deal of sand still remained to be cleared away, however, before we could get at the gold; and my father and I were on the point of relieving the two mates, when the natives, who had looked on at the operations with a great deal of interest and intelligence, stepped forward, and said, “No, no; now me work.” And though they had probably never seen shovels in their lives before, and were a little awkward at first in the handling of them, they soon got into the owing of it, and did their work as well as either of the others. And so they kept on, spell and spell, the mates and the “niggers,” neither party seeming willing that my father or I should share in the hard work; and in about an hour and a half, Bob’s shovel suddenly struck sharply upon something harder than wood. He and Winter were both working under the influence of powerful excitement, so it was not long before they had cleared away the sand sufficiently to enable them to lay hold of and drag forth an ingot, black and discoloured almost as rusty iron, but heavy enough to prove most satisfactorily that it was not that metal. It was handed up, and I at once proceeded to scrape away with my strong clasp knife upon its surface, quickly establishing the fact that it was indeed the precious metal.

This I considered sufficient for one day, especially as it had been agreed that it should be a holiday. So, with considerable difficulty, I at length persuaded the two mates to come out of their hole, and rest after their violent exertions; and shortly afterwards our goods and chattels were packed up and put on board one of the canoes, in charge of the two natives, and the remainder of the party embarked in the tube-boat with the gold—thirteen ingots in all—that had been brought to light, the sails were hoisted, and we ran down to the anchorage in the bay with both canoes in tow.

It would be difficult to express the satisfaction which all felt at this important discovery, but to Bob and me the satisfaction was peculiarly great, for we had now accomplished all that our most sanguine expectations had led us to hope for in projecting this adventurous voyage—more, indeed; for, as the reader is aware, when the subject was first mooted we had no hope of finding my father, having quite given him up as dead.

The next day saw us hard at work again, and, not to dwell too long upon matters which may be passed over briefly, in three days we had the box of gems, and as much gold as we considered we could take. The schooner was ballasted with it, taking in, as nearly as we could calculate, twenty tons, and the precious metal was also substituted for the lead ballast of the cutter. The aperture in the deck of the buried ship was then carefully boarded over as before, the sand shovelled back into its place, and to time and the winds were left the work of completely eradicating all remaining traces of our labours. Both craft were then fully provisioned and watered, abundant preparation having already been made, and on the morning following the completion of our final arrangements, both craft made sail from the island, the Ada leading out through the channel, and stood away to the southward and westward under every stitch of canvas that would draw. We soon found, however, that in moderate weather the Water Lily could sail round and round the Ada, and we had to take in our topsail and haul down a reef in our mainsail to avoid running away from her altogether; it was only when it came to double-reefed canvas that her superior power told sufficiently to produce an equality in our speeds. It seemed as though everything which we were to meet with in the shape of adventure had befallen us on the first half of our voyage, for day after day passed by without anything to distinguish it from the others, and after a quick and pleasant run, we reached Melbourne just in time to catch the homeward-bound mail, and to send a hurried letter to my sister, acquainting her with the agreeable intelligence of our double success. I here had an opportunity of acquainting the proper authorities with all the circumstances connected with the destruction of the pirate brig, and of the crew being imprisoned on the island, and I afterwards learned that a cruiser had been despatched to the spot, and that the entire band were captured, tried, condemned upon a mass of evidence, which was soon collected against them, and hanged.

Here also I had the happiness of being united to the dear girl who had in so many ways proved herself worthy of my best and strongest love, and as our story—excepting that part of it which related to the finding of the treasure—had got wind, the sympathy and kind feeling shewn towards us by the warm-hearted colonists, was such as to convert our wedding-day almost into a day of public rejoicing. All the ships, without exception, were dressed with flags, and there was a long article in one of the local papers headed, “Thrilling Romance of the Sea,” in which the story of Ella’s rescue from the wreck told with great affect.

We remained at Melbourne about a week, and then made sail once more, still with favourable winds and fine weather, until we reached the Cape of Good Hope—which we did in little more than a month—when we encountered a very strong breeze from the southward and eastward, from which we were glad enough to take shelter behind the fine breakwater in the bay. Here we again filled up provisions and water, and once more despatched letters home.

By the time that we had done what we wanted, the gale was over, and we lost no time in making a fresh start. We soon got into the south-east trades, and, as they happened to be blowing strong, we made the best of them, and did not attempt to stop at Saint Helena. We were fortunate again in crossing the line, getting a little slant of wind, which carried us handsomely across the usually calm belt which so tries the patience of the homeward-bound seaman at that spot; and after a remarkably fine passage of thirty-nine days from Table Bay, we found ourselves at anchor in Funchal Roads.

One of the canoes (both of which the schooner carried on deck) was got out, and my father and I went ashore to the post-office, where we found, as we expected, letters from my sister in answer to ours from Melbourne. My poor father was completely unmanned by the warmth of affection breathed forth in my sister’s letter to him, and I was scarcely less so at the delight she manifested at our safety and success, and the warm sympathy with which she responded to the timid message my letter had conveyed to her from her unknown sister.

We hurriedly got in a stock of wine, and once more made sail, and after a baffling passage of a fortnight, against head-winds and light airs and calms, reached Weymouth Bay on a most lovely evening in the last week of June, having accomplished our voyage round the world, with all its delays, in somewhat under eleven months.

The moment that we were at anchor one of the canoes was got into the water, and my father, Ella, and I were paddled ashore by the two natives (who could now speak English tolerably well, and had accustomed themselves to the use of civilised clothing), Bob and Winter remaining on board their respective craft that night to take care of them.

We landed at the flight of steps at the pier-end, and made the best of our way at once to my aunt’s house. My sister was there, eagerly expecting us; for it appeared that she had been on the Esplanade listening to the strains of the regimental band, and had recognised the Water Lily as we drew in towards the anchorage.

I will pass over in silence the rapturous meeting which ensued, for the feelings of all were of too deep and sacred a character for so inexperienced a pen as mine to deal with. Suffice it to say that we all enjoyed on that evening one of those short seasons of perfect, unalloyed happiness which are occasionally permitted even here on earth.

Little now remains to be told. We succeeded, after a vast amount of hard work and difficulty, in turning our gold into cash and the proceeds were equally divided among us five whites; the result being, as I suppose, I need hardly say, a magnificent fortune to each. Winter, like the honest fellow that he was, immediately married the girl who had consented to share his uncertain fortune as a seaman and the two blacks attached themselves, as a matter of course, to my father’s establishment. As for Bob, he asserted roundly that his gold would be of no use or value to him if I “turned him adrift,” so he became, I need scarcely say with my hearty good-will, a fixture in my establishment; and his whole thoughts are now set on being made sailing-master of a fine schooner yacht which is building for me.

I found out Ella’s relations, and communicated the fact of her rescue from the wreck, and of her having become my wife; but I said nothing respecting our immense wealth, merely stating that I was possessed of a comfortable independency, as I wished to ascertain whether they were willing to receive her as a relative, on her own and her mother’s account. I regret, for the sake of human nature, to say that the interview was eminently unsatisfactory; and I left their house with a mental resolve that my wife should never, with my consent, enter the doors of such unnatural relatives.

The End.

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Preface

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Volume 1 Chapter 1

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Volume 1 Chapter 2

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Volume 1 Chapter 3

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Volume 1 Chapter 4

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Volume 1 Chapter 5

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Volume 1 Chapter 6

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Volume 1 Chapter 7

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Volume 1 Chapter 8

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Volume 1 Chapter 9

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Volume 1 Chapter 10

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Volume 1 Chapter 11

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Volume 2 Chapter 1

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Volume 2 Chapter 2

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Volume 2 Chapter 3

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Volume 2 Chapter 4

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Volume 2 Chapter 5

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Volume 2 Chapter 6

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Volume 2 Chapter 7

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Volume 2 Chapter 8

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Volume 2 Chapter 9

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