The Bunting lay at Symon’s Bay a fortnight, and during that time, first a French man-o’-war, and next an English trading steamer arrived from Zanzibar straight away. But still no tidings of the missing dhow.
The Bunting then bore up for home, arriving in good time in Plymouth Sound, duly reported herself, and in less than a week was paid off.
Captain Wayland took the pains to go all the way to the Highlands of Scotland to report correctly the story of the dhow.
He was most hospitably received, and did not get away for nearly three weeks.
Both Harry’s parents were plunged into grief at the captain’s tidings, but his reason for coming north was to make the best of matters that he could, and he left them at last resigned and hopeful, Harry’s mother especially assuring him that she felt certain her son would turn up again safely and soon.
But alas! and alas! weeks flew by, and months passed into a year, and a year into long years, but no tidings ever were received of that lost dhow and her unhappy crew.
Then hope died out of even the mother’s heart, and she even began to look old, and grow grey under the pressure of her woeful grief.