How I must wind up the Story.
It was the beginning of a better time, for from that day what was like the dawn of a return of his mental powers brightened and strengthened into the full sunshine of reason, and by the time we had been waiting at Ti-hi’s village for the coming of the captain with his schooner we had heard the whole of my father’s adventures from his own lips, and how he had been struck down from behind by one of the blacks while collecting, and kept a prisoner ever since.
I need not tell you of his words to me, his thanks to the doctor, and his intense longing for the coming of the schooner, which seemed to be an age before it came in sight.
We made Ti-hi and his companions happy by our supply of presents, for we wanted to take nothing back, and at last one bright morning we sailed from the glorious continent-like island, with two strong middle-aged men on board, both of whom were returning to a civilised land with the traces of their captivity in their hair and beards, which were as white as snow.
Neither shall I tell you of the safe voyage home, and of the meeting there. Joy had come at last where sorrow had sojourned so long, and I was happy in my task that I had fulfilled.
I will tell you, though, what the captain said in his hearty way over and over again.
To me it used to be:
“Well, you have growed! Why, if you’d stopped another year you’d have been quite a man. I say, though I never thought you’d ha’ done it; ’pon my word!”
Similar words these to those often uttered by poor, prejudiced, obstinate old nurse.
To Jack Penny the captain was always saying: