‘Humph!’ quoth Nicky, ‘I must say we did.’
The grey dawn found the schooner anchored in the bay, and before sunrise Nicky and I, having obtained the canoe of the Indians for the purpose, leaped on board.
I almost shook Captain Jem out of his hammock, into which, poor man, he had only just turned, after seeing that all was safe with the ground tackle, and that the weather looked settled.
‘Captain Jem! Captain Jem!’ I cried; ‘you told the merchant on board the galleon, that you loved me as a son, and here is your son come back again to you!’
I will not try to reduce to words the shout of delight with which the hearty old fellow jumped clean out of his hammock, and clutching my hands in both of his, danced me round and round the little cabin. It was a thorough welcome home, and almost induced me to falter in my resolution of immediately returning to Scotland. But the feeling lasted but for a moment. I loved my comrades, but I loved kith and kin more, and now I had that to carry back to them which would bring grateful tears to many an eye.
And now my story is told.
I have bidden a solemn farewell to the representatives of the blood of the old caciques, and the ‘Will-o’-the-Wisp’ is under weigh, bound direct for Jamaica, from whence I can easily procure a passage home. Her buccaneering cruise, of which I saw so little, is ended. She lies deep in the water, freighted with the spoils of the proud Spaniards, who vainly swore that theirs alone would be the empire and the treasure of the New World. Her merry crew will shortly be dispersed, and never rock in hammocks in one ship again. Stout Jem is bound for Europe, and mayhap we will go together. Nicky Hamstring, true to his opinion, that the New World is a merrier one than the Old, talks of enlisting under the banner of Captain Morgan, to march with him across the mountains to the great South Sea. Each has his plans, and every man’s plan is different from his neighbour’s. May they all prosper!
And now I bid my readers a kind good by!
I have told them roughly, but truly, as much of my life as was the ‘Story of a Buccaneer.’ If they have found it stirring enough to while away a leisure hour, I am content. But if from it they have learned something of the real truth concerning Buccaneers, how the order sprung naturally from the greed of the Spaniards to make a monopoly of America—how the Buccaneers lived by sea and land—how they hunted, and sailed, and made war—how there were good and bad, honest hearts and rogues among them—in short, if they have learned what manner of men the Buccaneers were, and what manner of lives they led—then I shall be more than content; I shall think that I have served the memories of my brave countrymen who sleep beneath those western seas, and that I have given to the world some information, not without its uses, touching an interesting chapter of our maritime history.
THE END.