"Now run home as fast as you can, dear boy, and tell mother that the doctor and I hope to be with her in a quarter of an hour."

Then, as the little fellow made off at top speed, the father added: "Thank God, his retreat is secured if we can hold out for ten minutes. Now, Henderson, true and trusty comrade, let us make a stand here and, shoulder to shoulder, show these rascals how Englishmen can fight."

So, without another word, the two friends turned and stood at bay, finding time to bring down two more of their foes by a couple of lucky snap-shots before they were closed with.

And then began a battle, fierce and grim—sixteen Malays to two Englishmen! Luckily for the smaller party the Malays had, at the outset of the disturbance, emptied their pieces ineffectually, and had found no time to reload them, whilst Henderson had provided himself, in addition to the two repeating rifles, with a brace of loaded six-chambered revolvers, one of which he now handed to Gaunt. With these and their clubbed rifles the two men fought so desperately, that not only were the Malays effectually checked in their attempt at an outflanking movement, but actually foiled in their intention to bear down the two men by sheer force of numbers and brute strength. Swinging their rifles club-wise with one hand and firing their revolvers with the other whenever they saw a chance of making a shot tell, the Englishmen wrought such terrible execution that at length the Malays drew back confounded. At this moment a cheer was heard close at hand, and in another instant up dashed Manners and Nicholls, breathless with hard running, and placed themselves one on each side of their two countrymen.

"Now let us give them a volley!" cried Gaunt—who, his blood fairly boiling at the recollection of the past night, had been fighting like a demon—and, at the word, up went the four rifles to the "present."

"Choose each his man!" ordered the inexorable engineer: and then out rang the four pieces, leaving three foes the less to deal with. Hark! what was that? Not an echo of the rifle-shots, surely; no, it was the boom of a distant gun, unless the ears of all strangely deceived them. Whatever it was, the Malays also heard the sound, and, looking for an instant in consternation at each other, wavered, turned, and fled.

"Hurrah!" cried Gaunt exultantly, "rescue is at hand. After the rascals, and give them a lesson they will never forget!"

It was, perhaps, an imprudent thing to do, but away after the flying foe went the four men, popping away with their revolvers, and so severely galling the Malays that sauve qui peut quickly became the word with the latter, who now evidently thought of nothing but how to reach their boats alive. One in his frantic haste stumbled and fell, revealing his features to Gaunt as he did so. It was the wretch who had so cruelly ill-treated little Percy on the night before. With a couple of bounds the engineer was upon him. Wresting the creese from the fellow's hand, Gaunt seized him by the collar and dragged him along the ground, writhing, to a clump of canes growing close at hand. With his foot on the man's neck to keep him down, the engineer then cut with the creese a stout, pliant cane, lifted the wretch to his feet by main strength, and, dropping his weapons to the ground and still retaining his grip upon the fellow's collar, deliberately thrashed him until the cane was split to ribbons and the clothes literally cut from his back, finally dismissing him with a kick which—apart from the thrashing—it is safe to say, that Malay will never forget so long as his life shall last. The unfortunate wretch hobbled off with quite remarkable celerity—considering that every bone in his body must have been aching—eager to overtake his comrades, whose "way" had been very materially "freshened" not only by the heat with which they were pursued but also by the booming of the guns in the offing. But he was too late. When he reached the beach the boats had shoved off; so, rather than remain where he was, the fellow unhesitatingly plunged into the stream and swam off to the proa, reaching her just in time to be hauled up over the side as, with slipped cable and hastily-hoisted sail, the craft paid off and gathered way on her road out to sea.

Gaunt followed more leisurely, for, in common with his three friends, he had suffered somewhat in the melee—though, fortunately, none of them were seriously hurt—and he reached the cove just in time to witness the hasty departure of the proa. He seized this, the first opportunity which had presented itself, to heartily thank his companions for their gallant rescue of himself and his child, inquired anxiously after the safety and welfare of the little Lucille, and then said:

"I have been wondering what can be the meaning of that firing in the offing. I cannot help thinking it is intended as a signal of some kind to us, and, assuming that to be the case, I can only account for it upon the pleasant supposition that Captain Blyth, instead of perishing in the hurricane as we feared, must have in some miraculous manner escaped; and that it is he who is now outside, on board a rescue ship, come to take us all off the island. I think it would be well if you, Manners, were to take the punt, and, with Nicholls, go out as far as the harbour's mouth to reconnoitre, taking care not to show yourselves until you are quite certain that the craft is a friendly one."

The two men named eagerly adopted the suggestion, and a minute later were afloat and pulling rapidly down stream. As soon as they were fairly off Gaunt turned to Henderson and said:

"And now, my dear fellow, I think I will walk as far as the fort to exchange a word or two with Ida, and assure them all of our safety; and then I will rejoin you here to await the tidings from outside."

Meanwhile Manners and Nicholls, pushing off into the strength of the current, sped rapidly toward the two headlands which guarded the harbour's mouth; arriving at which they landed, hauled the punt up on the beach, and made their way through the bushes to a point from which, themselves unseen, they could get a clear view of the open sea outside.

And then what an exhilarating sight met their delighted eyes. A large full-rigged ship lay in the offing, about a mile distant, hove-to under her three topsails, spanker, and jib. At first they took her for a corvette, her gear being all fitted in regular man-o'-war fashion; but this mistake was instantly corrected upon their noticing that she flew the red ensign from her gaff, in addition to which she showed a burgee with a long name on it at her main-royal mast-head, and the pilot-jack at the fore. By the greatest good luck Manners happened to have in his pocket a small telescope which he had a trick of always carrying about with him, and this he quickly brought to bear upon the stranger. Watching him eagerly, Nicholls observed him change colour; a perplexed expression passed over his face, his hand trembled. For two long minutes he remained steadfastly peering through the telescope; then he suddenly closed it with a snap, and exclaimed excitedly:

"Away to the punt and pull out to sea for your life, Nicholls. It is the dear old Cloud, as I am a living sinner! and Miss Stanhope is on the poop watching the island through the ship's glass. There goes another gun!"



CHAPTER TWENTY.

A DARING PLAN SUCCESSFULLY EXECUTED.

In accordance with Williams' plans the Flying Cloud's cargo was in due time discharged and warehoused on shore in the newly-built stores; the ship herself stripped, hove down, scrubbed, and re-painted from her keel up; her interior re-arranged—particularly the forecastle, which was extended sufficiently to accommodate a hundred men; the upper spars replaced by new ones, somewhat higher in the hoist, cut on the island; her canvas altered to fit the new spars, skysails being abolished as causing more trouble than they were worth; the running-gear re-arranged; the deck-houses, with the exception of the poop, swept away; the bulwarks strengthened and pierced; the breech-loading guns, twelve in number, mounted on carriages and placed in position; and, generally, the ship made to look as much like a man-of-war as possible, though she as much resembled the old-fashioned sailing sloop which then still performed duty on our more distant stations as a swan does a goose, her sailing powers far exceeding those of the fastest of them, whilst Williams' metamorphosis of her only had the effect of imparting to her an extremely rakish and wicked appearance.

In due time—and not a very long time either, taking into consideration the amount of work done—the ship was once more ready for sea; and ballasted carefully down to her very best sailing trim, she left Refuge Harbour for an extended piratical cruise. It is not necessary to describe in detail where she went, or the various adventures met with by her crew; suffice it to say that the cruise proved wonderfully successful, several very valuable prizes being taken—no less than three being vessels with large amounts of specie on board. When Williams first mooted to the crew his proposal to seize the ship and convert her into a pirate, he met the strongest objection raised by the more scrupulous of the men by asserting that he had a plan whereby all bloodshed could be avoided; this plan being no less than to practically enslave such portions of the crews of the prospective prizes as refused to become pirates, and to confine them at Refuge Harbour, there to perform the large amount of work necessary to the complete furtherance of Williams' ambitious schemes. But, as may be supposed, this plan, when put to a practical test, failed. Capture was not in all cases tamely submitted to—resistance was offered, blood was shed in the conflict. And when this had once happened all scruples vanished, and the further step of murdering such prisoners as proved contumacious or were inconvenient to keep was an easy one; the worst passions of the men asserted themselves, and breaking loose from all restraint speedily converted their possessors into very demons.

Miss Stanhope was daily and hourly in peril during the latter part of that dreadful cruise. Still, thanks to the compact with Ned and the hold which he still had upon the crew, the unhappy girl had so far escaped direct threats and open insult. But toward the end of the cruise matters had reached such a stage that she foresaw the absolute necessity for effecting her escape immediately upon the arrival of the ship again at Refuge Harbour. The state of horror and terror into which she was continually thrown was such that death itself seemed preferable to a further continuance of such a life as she was then living.

At length the ship once more glided into the secure haven of Refuge Harbour, and about five o'clock in the evening let go her anchor. The sails were furled anyhow—discipline having by this time grown very lax on board the Flying Cloud notwithstanding all Williams' efforts to maintain it—and then the men, without going through the formality of asking leave, lowered the boats and went ashore in a body; Sibylla, Ned, and Williams being left to follow, if they chose, in the dinghy, which they did, the steward being ordered to remain on board for the night as anchor watch.

When the dinghy reached the shore its occupants discovered that the ship's crew—among whom were several new hands who had joined from the prizes—had already seized a cask of spirits, and were evidently bent upon a carouse in celebration of the successful completion of their first cruise. They were then only rough and noisy, the liquor not having had time to operate; but an hour later the entire band, with a very few exceptions, had become converted into a howling mob of drunken desperadoes, ripe and eager for any species of ruffianism which might suggest itself. Sibylla was at this time busy putting matters to rights in the hut which Ned had caused to be erected on their previous visit to the island, and Ned was busy in the same way in his tent when Williams, happening to pass by, looked in at the latter.

"Hark ye, youngster," he gruffly remarked, "you and the young woman had better keep well out of sight to-night, for if either of you are seen, mischief may come of it; and whilst those beasts up there are in their present condition neither I nor anybody else could help you. The rascals are mad drunk, and hungry for mischief. They positively laughed at me just now when I tried to bring them to something like order! But if I don't make them smart for it to-morrow when we start to overhaul the rigging, call me a Dutchman."

Coupled with what he had already seen and heard, this warning of Williams' so seriously impressed Ned that he went to Sibylla's door and called to her to put on her hat and join him outside. As soon as she appeared Ned said:

"Look here, Miss Stanhope, Williams has just been here to tell me that the men up there are mad with drink and—as he phrased it—hungry for mischief. Judging from the frightful noise and commotion among them I should say he is right, and I have called you out to tell you that I think it will be best for you and me to return on board the ship; the steward is there, you know, and he and I can keep the anchor watch between us, whilst you take your rest as usual in your own cabin."

Sibylla had long ago come to the conclusion that she could do no better than follow poor Captain Blyth's advice and unreservedly follow Ned's instructions, so she at once announced her readiness to do whatever he thought best. Upon this Ned, believing that no time was to be lost, at once extinguished the lights and, locking the door, placed the key in his pocket; after which, taking a somewhat circuitous route in order to avoid attracting attention, he and Miss Stanhope made their way down to the spot where they had left the dinghy.

The boat was still there, with her oars and rowlocks in her just as she had been left, so handing his companion in and instructing her to sit steady, Ned placed his shoulder against the stem of the boat, and with a powerful shove sent her stern-foremost off the beach, springing in over the bows as he did so. There was a bright moon, nearly full, riding high in the sky, and Ned was rather apprehensive that his movements might attract attention and provoke pursuit. But the men had, for some reason or other, kindled a large fire, round which they were holding their carouse, and Damerell could only hope that the brilliant blaze would dazzle their eyes, and blind them to everything beyond the circle of its influence. Perhaps it did so, for when they reached the ship there was no sign of pursuit.

Ned had never allowed the idea of escape to be absent from his thoughts for a single day since the memorable one upon which the ship had first been seized; but, fertile as he usually was in resource, he had never been able to think of anything practicable except that of seeking a refuge in the treasure-cave; and this scheme was open to so many serious objections that he and Sibylla had agreed together that it must not be adopted except as a very last resource. Now, however, as the dinghy approached the ship and Ned gazed admiringly aloft at the tall graceful spars and complicated network of rigging, and reflected that at that moment the beautiful fabric was in charge of only one man—and that man friendly to him, as he had long ago ascertained—a daring idea suddenly took possession of him; and, without giving himself time to reflect, he there and then resolved upon its execution.

The wind was blowing moderately fresh from the north-west; but so secure was the anchorage and so good the holding-ground that, on arriving on board, Ned was not at all surprised to find that the steward, instead of keeping watch, had gone below and turned in, trusting to luck that, once on shore, nobody would dream of going off again to the ship that night. This arrangement, however, though it might be perfectly satisfactory to the steward, by no means suited Ned, who at once went below and unceremoniously routed the poor man out of his berth.

"Price," said he, "I have something of the utmost importance to say to you. I have noticed that in the course of conversation, when nobody else has been present, you have frequently gone out of your way to remind me that I am an unwilling member of the piratical crew in the midst of which we find ourselves, and you have also dropped sundry hints that if ever I happen to hit upon a way of escape you will be more than pleased to accompany me. Now, I want to know exactly what you have meant by this."

"Just exactly what I have said, Mr Damerell—or rather what you have just said," answered Price. "I joined the party because I had no fancy for being left to die on a desert island, like those unfortunate passengers or the poor skipper and Mr Manners; but I didn't then know what was before me, sir. I am a peaceable man, I am, and though I've had no hand in any of the bloodshed that has occurred since we sailed from here, I know that murder has been committed, and I want to separate myself from the murderers. If I could I would have prevented the mutiny in the first place; but I never knew that anything serious was intended—"

"Well, never mind about that just now," interrupted Ned; "the present question is this. If I happened to have formed a plan of escape—a plan, we will say, involving a considerable amount of risk and a great deal of hard work, would you be willing to join me in it?"

"Would I? Only try me, Mr Damerell—try me, sir! Why, there is no risk, no labour I would not willingly face for a good chance to escape from that pack of yelling savages over yonder. Why, what are they doing now, sir? Blest if it doesn't look as though they had been and set fire to the hut, sir!"

Ned ran into the saloon and brought the glass on deck.

"They have!" he exclaimed, looking through the instrument at a bright blaze which was leaping up among the trees on shore. "Well, never mind," he continued; "it does not matter, for I intend attempting an escape from them to-night—now, at once—and glad enough shall I be to have your assistance. I intend nothing less than to run off with the ship; so—"

"To run off with the ship?" echoed Price. "Oh, Mr Damerell, we can never do that, sir—"

"I shall try, at all events," interrupted Ned. "So whilst I slip out and cast loose the jib, do you go below to the boatswain's locker and bring me from thence a cold chisel and a good heavy hammer."

Without further parley, Price did as he was bidden, and very soon he and Ned were busy knocking out the pin from the shackle in the cable which happened to be nearest the hawse-pipe. The job occupied them fully a quarter of an hour, for the pin was rusted-in; but at length out it came, and in another minute away went the end of the cable out through the hawse-pipe and into the water with a loud rattle and a splash.

"So far, so good," said Ned. "Now, Price, I want you to take the glass and keep a sharp watch upon the shore. The ship is now adrift, and driving slowly stern-foremost toward the outer basin. So long as we see no sign of alarm from the people on shore I shall let her drive; that will increase our chances of a good start. But the moment you see any indication of an attempt to launch a boat give me the word; and we must then get the jib on the ship and put her head round. There is a fine breeze blowing, and if we can only get outside the heads without being overtaken, I have no fears whatever."

So saying, Ned ran aft and placed himself at the wheel, which he manipulated in such a way as to keep the ship head to wind with her bows pointing toward the shore, thus keeping up the appearance that she was still riding to her anchor. Price meanwhile posted himself on the forecastle, and kept the telescope levelled at the shore.

For some time all went well. The ship, under the influence of the fresh breeze, which effected her with increasing power as she lengthened her distance from the land, drove steadily astern; and still no warning word came from Price. At length, however, when she had drifted about a mile, and had arrived within about a mile and three-quarters of the contracted channel between the north and south bluffs which divided the inner from the outer basin, the steward cried out:

"They are after us, Mr Damerell; I can see the flash of oars in the moonlight!"

"All right!" answered Ned, sending the wheel hard over with a spin, and leaving it to rush forward. "Now, Price, aft with the starboard jib- sheets, and belay them—not too flat, man; let them flow a bit—so, that's well! Now tail on here to the halliards with me and let us set the sail. Up with it! that's your sort! Now take it under the belaying-pin and let me browse it up. Yo-ho; ho-hip; ho-ho! Belay that! Now, the main-topmast staysail. Let go the down-haul; that is it, that rope you have your hand on—cast it off! That's right. Here are the sheets; hook the clips into that ring-bolt there close to the second gun. That is all right. Now take a turn with the running part round that cleat! Capital! Now wait a moment."

The ship was by this time broadside-on to the wind and gathering headway under the powerful influence of the jib, necessitating a hand at the wheel. Ned therefore ran aft, and, summoning the astonished Sibylla from her cabin, where she was making her preparations for passing another night on board, he sent her to the wheel, with instructions how to act, but concealing from her for the present the fact that they were pursued. Most fortunately for the runaways, the young lady was by this time quite a practised helmsman—or helmswoman rather. She could not only steer straight, but she also knew the difference between port and starboard, and understood in which direction to turn the wheel upon receiving either of those mystic words of command. She consequently now proved a most useful auxiliary, and left Ned at full liberty to devote himself to the toilsome task of getting canvas upon the ship.

With the aid of the winch the two men succeeded in getting the main- topmast staysail set, after which they hauled out the spanker. They were now running for the passage between the two bluffs, with the wind over their starboard quarter, the ship in her best possible sailing trim going through the water at a speed of nearly three knots. This, however, was not fast enough to suit Ned, for though they had secured a capital start, and he conjectured that the pursuers were too thoroughly intoxicated to be capable of pulling a boat at any very great speed, he knew that at the south-western extremity of the outer basin they would reach the most difficult part of their navigation. This consisted of a channel only half a mile in width by about a mile and a quarter in length, bending to the south-east, where the ship would be almost completely becalmed under the high land. And it was here, if anywhere, that he expected to be overtaken. So, without wasting time to ascertain the whereabouts of the pursuing boat, he hurried aloft and cast off the lashing from the main-topgallant-staysail, and, sending the sheets down on deck, descended and helped Price to set the sail. He now had as much canvas upon the ship as he believed he and the steward could conveniently manage for the present. He was, therefore, compelled to content himself with making a tour of the decks and so trimming the sheets as that the different sails set should draw to the utmost advantage. Then, and not until then, did he allow himself leisure to take a peep through the glass at what was going on astern. The sight which met his eyes was by no means reassuring, for he now saw that there were no less than three boats in pursuit, the foremost of which—one of the gigs—was distinctly gaining upon him.

"If they have no firearms with them," said Ned to Price, "I think we may perhaps be able to keep them from boarding, even in the event of their overtaking us; and, in any case, I think it will be advisable to have up on deck and load a few of those rifles from the arm-chest, for having gone so far it will never do now for us to allow ourselves to be taken. Get the keys of the arm-chest and magazine, Joe, and bring up a couple of dozen rifles and a few packets of cartridges."

The rifles were brought on deck and loaded carefully, half of them being stacked in the waist of the ship, whilst the other half, with a liberal supply of ammunition, were taken up on the poop.

By the time that this was done the ship had reached the passage between the bluffs, and as soon as she was fairly through Ned kept away dead before the wind for the mouth of the "Narrows," as the contracted entrance channel was called. The ship being under fore-and-aft canvas only, this alteration in her course was a disadvantage rather than otherwise, the staysails refusing to stand properly; moreover the high land was now once more close aboard of them on both quarters, rendering the wind light and shifty, in consequence of which the ship lost way perceptibly. Ned became increasingly anxious; so much so, indeed, that he resolved to get more canvas upon the ship, and running out to the flying-jib-boom he loosed the flying-jib, set it with Price's assistance, and then went aft and set the mizen-topmast staysail—a very large sail, reaching from the mizen-topmast head down to within twelve feet of the main deck. This addition to the amount of canvas spread had an immediately perceptible effect; and going aft to the taffrail, and from thence watching the approach of the boats, Ned believed he should be fairly in the Narrows before the gig reached him.

The ship was fully half-way across the outer basin when the gig—the leading boat—opened fire upon her. The weapon employed was evidently a rifle, for though the boat was half a mile astern Ned distinctly heard the whistle of the bullet overhead, showing not only that they were well within the range of the piece, but also that it had been skilfully and steadily aimed, a circumstance which led him to conjecture that Williams, probably the only perfectly sober man in the entire crew, must be in charge of the boat. The ship being thus proved to be within range, Ned now took the wheel himself, sending Sibylla below to the saloon, with instructions not to venture from thence out on deck until he should intimate to her that she could do so with safety. The firing, however, was not maintained, and a quarter of an hour later Ned had the satisfaction of putting his helm down and rounding East Point at the inner extremity of the Narrows. The sheets now had to be trimmed over, but the ship being found to steer herself, this was not a matter of any very great difficulty, Ned leaving the helm to itself for the short time necessary to enable him and Price to perform the operation; but when he returned to his post he was greatly concerned to discover that the gig was less than a quarter of a mile astern, and coming up rapidly, though, from the unsteady way in which the oars were being handled, it was evident that the crew were pretty nearly exhausted with their long pull.

The fugitives were now fairly within the Narrows, and in their narrowest part, moreover; the shore being within a quarter of a mile of them on either hand. This of itself would have been a matter of no consequence, however, had the configuration of the land been different; but, unfortunately, the cliffs towered high above the mast-heads on both sides of the ship, and as the wind happened to be blowing athwart the channel the canvas was almost becalmed; indeed, had it not been for a little draught of air which now and then came down the channel astern of her, the Flying Cloud would have lost headway altogether. As it was she still moved through the water, though at a speed barely sufficient to give her steerage-way; and the crew of the gig, seeing her almost helpless condition, raised a loud confused shout, which they doubtless meant for a cheer, and redoubled their efforts at the oars.

Ned lashed the wheel and took up one of the rifles, Price taking another.

"Now," said Ned, "I have no wish to shed blood if I can help it, so we will not fire until the very last moment; but if the gig approaches near enough to enable us to distinguish Williams' eyes—there he sits in the stern-sheets with the yoke-lines in his hands—we must fire in self- defence. And mind, Joe, it is the oarsmen we must fire at; we must disable them, and so prevent the nearer approach of the boat, for if she once gets alongside and they succeed in boarding us, our throats will be cut within five minutes afterwards. Look out! Williams is going to fire again!"

They saw the pirate raise his rifle and take a long steady aim; then came the flash. The bullet struck the taffrail just at their feet. Williams dashed the piece down, savagely disappointed at his ill- success; and Ned stepped to the wheel and gave it a slight adjusting touch. When he turned again Williams was standing up in the boat, with his hands to his mouth, and next moment came the hail:

"Cloud ahoy! If you will heave-to at once I solemnly swear that no harm will come to either of you. I will pass over and forgive your mad attempt to run away with the ship; but if you compel us to pull alongside and recapture her, look out! Your punishment shall be such that I will make you positively pray to be put out of your misery. Do you hear me, there?"

"I can see his eyes now," said Ned. "I will fire first; and directly the smoke clears away you must follow suit, taking care to fire into the thick of the crew so as to do all the mischief possible. Now!"

As Ned spoke he levelled his piece, and aiming carefully, pulled the trigger. Simultaneously with the report came a sharp yell of agony and a groan, and as the smoke drifted away two oars were seen to drop overboard and two forms to sink down into the bottom of the boat. Then Price's piece spoke out, and Williams himself sprang convulsively from his seat and fell forward. This caused a great deal of confusion and a temporary suspension of the pursuit, during which Ned again went to the helm. By this time the ship, having drifted past the highest point of land to windward, once more began to feel the breeze; and when the gig— having lost a good hundred yards' distance—again resumed the chase the ship was creeping ahead at a speed of fully three knots, with the wind coming truer and fresher at every fathom of progress. The men in the gig now pulled most furiously, and actually crept up to within about twenty feet of the ship's quarter, but—she increasing her speed every moment—they could get no nearer, try as they would. At length one of them bethought himself of the rifle, which he picked up and with some difficulty loaded; then, standing up unsteadily in the stern-sheets, he pointed and fired the piece, harmlessly so far as the fugitives were concerned, but not so for himself, for the recoil and his intoxicated condition together combined to upset his equilibrium so completely that as the piece exploded he staggered backwards and, amid the jeers and loud laughter of his comrades, disappeared with a splash over the stern of the boat. The pause made to pick him up terminated the pursuit, which had now become hopeless, and ten minutes later the Flying Cloud glided past West Point and was rising and falling on the swell of the open ocean.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE ARRIVAL HOME OF THE "FLYING CLOUD."

As soon as the ship was fairly clear of the harbour Ned kept her away on a south-west by west course for the island on which the skipper and Manners had been landed; and then, resolved to make the most of the fair wind and the fine weather, he ran aloft and loosed the three topsails, which, with a considerable amount of labour, and with the aid of the winch and a snatch-block, he and Price actually succeeded in getting sheeted home and mast-headed. The yards being laid square, the adventurers had now nothing to do but to steer the ship, Sibylla spending the greater part of the day at the wheel—thus affording her companions an opportunity to snatch a little rest—whilst Ned and Price alternately steered and kept the look-out through the night; and such excellent progress did they make that at noon on the day but one following that of their escape from Refuge Harbour, they had the satisfaction of heaving-to the ship off the skipper's island. Here the colours were hoisted and a gun was fired at frequent intervals, a keen scrutiny of the island being maintained meanwhile with the aid of the telescope, so that if the captain and Manners were still there they might have an opportunity afforded them to paddle off to the ship, or at least to signal their presence. Hour after hour passed away, however, without any sign being discoverable of the existence of living beings upon the island; and at length, just as the sun was setting, Ned once more filled upon the ship and headed for Gaunt's island, shrewdly surmising—what he afterwards found to be the truth—that the skipper and Manners had found means to rejoin the passengers.

The mountain on Gaunt's island was made about three o'clock next morning, from the deck of the Flying Cloud, the atmosphere being somewhat hazy at the time; and daybreak found the ship off the north- eastern extremity of the island, some two miles distant, when the colours were again hoisted and guns fired as before, the reports serving, as has already been seen, to greatly disconcert the Malays and expedite their departure.

The first thing seen by the anxious watchers on the ship's deck was the proa crowding sail out of the harbour, a sight which filled them with the keenest anxiety; and Ned, thinking it possible that his friends might at that moment be prisoners on board the vessel, was busying himself in making preparations to open fire upon her, with the hope that he might be able to dismast her and so frustrate her attempt to escape, when his mind was set at rest by the sight of the punt pulling off to him with Manners and Nicholls in her. Filling upon the ship and running down toward the tiny craft, Ned and his companions soon had the satisfaction of shaking hands with their two former shipmates, after which came mutual hurried inquiries and explanations, in which, on the part of the islanders, the adventures of the past night naturally occupied an important place. To hear that the entire party were safe, with the exception of a few comparatively trifling scratches, was a great relief to the minds of the new arrivals, as also was the statement that a capital harbour existed, into which the ship could be taken and moored with perfect safety. For the mouth of the harbour the Flying Cloud was now headed, under Manners' pilotage, and half an hour later she rounded-to and let go her anchor in mid-stream exactly opposite the creek, to the unbounded astonishment and delight of Henderson and Gaunt, the latter having rejoined the doctor just in time to witness the arrival.

The halliards were let go and the sails rolled up as smartly as possible by the four men on board; and then, the side-ladder being rigged for Sibylla's accommodation, all hands descended to the punt, the paddles were tossed out and the boat was headed for the beach.

The unbounded delight and exultation on all hands when at length a general meeting took place at the fort must be left to the lively imagination of the reader; an entire chapter would be needed for its adequate portrayal, and time presses. Suffice it to say that there was only one bitter drop in the cup of happiness quaffed by the party that morning, and that was the sad loss of poor Captain Blyth, which Ned felt with exceptional keenness, not only because it was wholly unexpected by him, but also because he had, ever since making good his escape, been looking forward with pleasurable anticipation to the moment when he should be able to hand over the ship to her rightful commander.

The whole of that day was spent by the party in the interchange of a full and detailed recital of the various events which had transpired since the moment of their separation; and when it came to Ned's turn he was, as may be supposed, especially eloquent upon the subject of the treasure which he had discovered. His description of the contents of the cave, together with the exhibition of the pearls and precious stones already secured, made a profound impression upon his hearers, who fully agreed with him that such vast possibilities of wealth were not to be lightly abandoned. How to secure it was, however, the question—a question which Ned solved the moment he set eyes upon the Petrel. He proposed that she should at once be completed and launched, and that, whilst the rest of the party should effect a leisurely removal of themselves and whatever they wished to take with them on board the Flying Cloud, he, with Manners, should proceed in the cutter to Refuge Harbour, and, watching their opportunity, run in during the night, secure the treasure, and leave again next morning—as they could easily manage to do—before the pirates could gain an idea of their being at hand. It was a risky thing to attempt, certainly, though not nearly so risky as it at first sight appears; and after a full and exhaustive discussion of the chances for and against success the bold scheme was agreed to.

Accordingly, on the following morning all hands went to work with a will; and they laboured to such good purpose that the last finishing touches were put to the little craft on the Friday following, leaving nothing to be done on the Saturday but the actual launching, and such trimming of the ballast as might be found necessary when she was afloat. The launch was effected successfully, the ceremony of christening being performed by little Lucille; and, it being found when the craft was afloat that only a very trifling alteration was necessary in the distribution of the ballast, the alteration was at once made, after which all hands repaired on board, sail was made, and they went outside to try the cutter's paces. The result was more than satisfactory—it was a delightful surprise; for not only in her sea-going powers but also in the qualities of speed and weatherliness did the Petrel far exceed the most sanguine anticipations of everybody, including her designer. They worked to windward for about three hours and then returned to the harbour, where the remainder of the day was spent in getting on board the provisions, water, and other necessaries for the projected trip.

On the following Monday the Petrel sailed for Refuge Harbour, with Ned as skipper and Manners as mate, cook, steward, and crew, all rolled into one—the adventurers receiving all sorts of cautions and good wishes as they said good-bye at the cove. The course to be steered was east- north-east, or nearly dead to windward as the wind stood at that season, and the distance was about three hundred miles; so it was calculated that the trip there and back would occupy about a week. But no sooner were they fairly outside the harbour's mouth than Ned and Manners exchanged the opinion that a smart little weatherly fore-and-aft rigged craft like the Petrel ought to do the distance in considerably less than the time specified; and they forthwith took measures to practically demonstrate the soundness of that opinion, "carrying-on" sail to such a daring extent that even poor Captain Blyth would have remonstrated had he been with them. The craft, however, was staunch, the spars and rigging sound, the canvas new; and the youthful mariners, though daring, were by no means reckless. The weather also was settled and the wind steady, if somewhat fresh. All, therefore, went well with them, and so thoroughly did the cutter answer the expectations of her crew that at dawn on the Wednesday morning—the second day out—the high land of Refuge Harbour was distinctly visible from the deck, showing just above the horizon like a sharply-defined purplish-grey blot upon the primrose- tinted sky to windward. At the same time the adventurers also made out something else, to wit, a fleet of five sail of small craft dead to windward—in fact, immediately between the cutter and the island. At first they were considerably puzzled to determine the character of these small craft, which were steering due west; but at length, as they closed and became more distinctly visible, Ned was enabled to solve the riddle. The fleet was none other than the boats belonging to the Flying Cloud! And Ned conjectured that the hasty abandonment of Refuge Harbour, indicated by the appearance of the boats at sea, arose either from a fear that Ned might give such information of the existence of the place as would lead to the speedy capture of its occupants, or a determination on the part of the discomfited pirates to seek at sea a substitute for the noble ship of which they had been so cleverly deprived. Whichever—if either—of these surmises might have been the correct one, a very lively interest in the movements of the Petrel was speedily manifested by the occupants of the boats, makeshift signals of distress being promptly displayed on board each craft. Ned paid attention to these to the extent of closing with the fleet sufficiently to enable him to establish their identity beyond all question, after which he calmly made arrangements to avoid them. When this was seen the boats hauled up in pursuit, but they might as well have attempted to pursue the sea-birds which hovered in their wake. Ned so manoeuvred as to pass the nearest boat well out of rifle-shot, at the same time steering such a course as would be unlikely to excite any suspicion that he was bound to Refuge Harbour; and though the pursuit was maintained for nearly an hour, its hopelessness had by that time become so apparent that the boats again bore up and were soon afterwards lost to view in the western board.

For the information of those interested in the ultimate fate of the pirates it may be as well to mention here that they were from that time never more seen or heard of.

It was just noon that day when the Petrel entered the narrows; and, all fear of discovery by the pirates being now at an end, Ned took her directly alongside the cliff immediately underneath the entrance to the treasure-cave and began the shipment of the treasure. This was an easy and expeditious task, the jars of gold-dust and the gold bricks being simply slung at the end of a line and lowered down the cliff-face to Manners, who received them below. The casket with the remainder of the gems was not forgotten; and one particular bale of embroidered stuffs which Sibylla had declared to be of priceless value was also taken; as were such of the shields and weapons as would bear handling—Gaunt and Henderson having expressed a very particular wish to possess some of these, as quite unique curiosities. But the ivory and the other bulky articles were left for the benefit of whosoever might choose to go after them. The shipment was completed in about three hours, after which Ned entered the inner basin and worked up as far as the anchorage, which spot was indicated by the buoy still watching over the slipped anchor. But though nobody was to be seen, and the storehouses had all the appearance of being completely abandoned, the voyagers were far too prudent to land—for which, indeed, there was no inducement—and, having satisfied their curiosity, they wore round and proceeded at once to sea, passing out through the Narrows again just as the sun was setting. Thirty-six hours later, or about six o'clock on the following Friday morning, they once more entered Gaunt's harbour and let go their anchor, to the accompaniment of a surprised and delighted shout of welcome from Nicholls, who—the entire party having removed on board the Flying Cloud—happened to be keeping the anchor watch at the time.

But little more remains to be told. Being so shorthanded, the party found it impossible to take the Petrel away from the island with them; she was therefore moved to a snug berth well up the river—her cargo, of course, being first transferred to the Flying Cloud—and there well thatched over with palm-leaves to protect her from the weather, in the hope that if ever any unfortunates should be cast away upon the island she might prove of service in enabling them to effect their escape; and there she may possibly be at the present moment.

This done, the party made sail in the Flying Cloud for Batavia, the nearest port, which, the weather still favouring them, was reached after a short but toilsome passage. Here they were fortunate enough to pick up a shipwrecked crew of Englishmen who were only too glad to ship for the passage home, especially as Ned felt justified in offering them the top scale of wages; and the owners of the Cloud having been telegraphed to and letters written by all hands, advising their friends of their safety, sail was once more made, this time for Old England direct. On the voyage home the Flying Cloud fully justified the name which had been bestowed upon her; for, carrying on night and day, Ned succeeded in making the fastest passage on record from Anjer to the Lizard. The latter, or rather the light, was sighted one fine April night in the first watch, nearly two years after the ship had last passed it; and on the following day she hauled in round Portland, stood across into Weymouth Bay to show her number, and then bore away up channel again, a fine westerly breeze prevailing at the time, which Ned was anxious to make the most of. At daylight next morning a tug came alongside in the Downs, and after the usual amount of chaffering, the tow-rope was passed on board her and she went ahead, the ship's crew at the same time going aloft to stow the canvas under the watchful eye of Manners, who was acting chief-mate, and who was particularly earnest in his exhortations to them to "be careful that you make a harbour furl of it, lads!"

Gaily the good ship stemmed the tide as she ploughed her stately way up the river in the wake of the grimy little tug; and a right noble and beautiful sight did she present, in all the glory of fresh paint and newly-blacked rigging—laid on during a spell of fine weather experienced just before entering the channel—with her white canvas snugly stowed, yards laid accurately square, running-rigging hauled taut and neatly coiled down, with the house-flag floating at the main-royal- mast-head, the burgee at the mizen, and the red ensign at the gaff-end. Many were the admiring glances bestowed upon her from the craft which were passed either going up or down the river—for, being only in deep ballast trim, she towed light, and passed ahead of nearly all the inward-bound craft—and at length a great bluff-bowed, deeply-laden barque was overtaken, the quarter-deck occupants of which appeared to manifest not only admiration but quite a surprising amount of curiosity as the two vessels closed. For a little group of men and women had gathered aft on board this barque for the evidently express purpose of getting the longest and best possible view of the Flying Cloud, many of them being provided with opera-glasses, which seemed glued to their eyes, albeit it was evident from their occasional gestures that they were listening intently to the eager and excited utterances of one of their number, a shortish, thick-set, grey-haired man clad in blue serge garnished with gilt buttons, whom our friends naturally supposed to be the skipper of the craft. At length, as the Flying Cloud ranged up on the larboard quarter of the barque, the excited blue-clad figure appeared to suddenly go demented altogether, for, rushing to the barque's gangway, he threw himself over rather than descended the vessel's side into a boat which was towing alongside, and with imperious gestures seemed to command the boatmen to convey him to the approaching ship. They obeyed, and the distance of the two vessels being but short, in less than a minute a voice—well known, notwithstanding its excited, exultant ring—hailed:

"Flying Cloud ahoy! heave us a rope's-end, will ye, and let your captain come on aboard!"

With a delighted shout the old hands rushed to the gang way, Ned foremost; the rope's-end was thrown, the boat sheered alongside, and in another moment Captain Blyth, alive, well, and as hearty as ever, stood once more on his own quarter-deck, shaking hands convulsively with everybody who came near him, with the unheeded tears chasing each other down his cheeks as he huskily replied to the enthusiastic greetings of those who had long ago given him up for lost.

His story was a long one, but it may be condensed into a few words. The raft, contrary to all expectation, had held together and lived through the terrific hurricane, before which it was driven furiously to the southward, to be wrecked eventually upon a small islet, whence, after many months of hardship and privation, the skipper had been rescued by a sandal-wood trader and conveyed to Singapore. He there joined the barque, homeward bound, the hospitable skipper gladly offering him a passage home, and, by a singular coincidence, had arrived in the river only an hour or two ahead of his own ship. He was full of pride and delight at the way in which Ned had outwitted the pirates at last and run away with the ship; and could find no words in which to express his admiration of Sibylla's courage under her long-protracted and trying ordeal, and his gratitude at her escape; and when at length the stories of the various actors in this little drama had been fully told, and he had congratulated them upon their marvellous deliverance, he wound up all by saying:

"Well, I took the ship out, it is true, and I lost her; but, thanks be to God, I can now face my owners with the words, 'There is your ship, in as good order and condition as when you placed her in my charge; and if I didn't get her back from the pirates for you, I at least had the training of the man who did, which is almost as good, I take it.'"

The arrival home of the vessel, so long overdue, and the publication of the adventures of those who went out and came home again in her, created a profound sensation almost throughout the length and breadth of England, and proved quite a god-send to the daily papers for a few days; but it was soon obliterated by the occurrence of events of greater importance to the community at large, and the chief personages of the story were allowed to sink back into a welcome obscurity, although the public interest in the subject was fitfully revived from time to time by accounts of proceedings in connection with the restoration, as far as possible, to its rightful owners of the booty brought home in the Flying Cloud's hold; but even this complicated matter was settled after a time, and now the good ship's name never appears in the public prints except in the advertising columns as being "for Melbourne direct," or among the shipping news as "spoken" or "arrived."

Like most seamen, Ned was generosity itself, and had he been allowed to have his way, the treasure found at Refuge Harbour would have been equally divided among all those who had participated with him in that adventurous voyage; but to such a proposal, of course, not one of the interested parties would listen. Nicholls and Price, however, eventually consented to accept a moderate pension, and the doctor and the engineer point proudly to their trophies of ancient arms as they tell the story connected with them to their friends. Captain Blyth still commands the Flying Cloud, ship and captain alike being the most popular in the trade; and Bob Manners was, at latest accounts, superintending, on full pay, the building and equipment of a magnificent yacht, in which Mrs Damerell, nee Stanhope, hopes to accompany her husband on a luxurious trip round the world.

THE END