I think that even Cracker himself drew his breath more freely now that Shireen had reached this part of the story. There could not be much more of it. Only they all wanted to hear the very, very end. So they waited in silence.
The forest would have been searched, said Shireen, everywhere; and everywhere next day, boats would dart up and down the river. But all too late, for we were all safe and sound on board that little British boat, and gaily steaming down the river.
A few weeks after this we reached Bombay, and here, once more, I had to part with Beebee, my mistress; for the terrible Indian Mutiny had broken out, and I and my master had to stay with our regiment; while Miss Morgan and her pupil, with the dear, good priest, Antonio, sailed homewards round the Cape.
Heigho! sighed Shireen. That was a terrible war, and it would take me weeks and weeks to tell you of all I heard and saw. And it was all very, very sad, too.
But dear master gained what he called honour and glory; though for the life of me, my children, I never could see where that came in, or what it meant, but it is something that soldiers and sailors greatly love, and often sigh for.
The longest time has an end, Warlock, and when the horrors of the mutiny were all things of the past, and the sun of peace shedding once more its soft rays over beautiful India, master and I found ourselves sailing back to Merrie England.
Yes, Tabby, we sailed in the dear old corvette Hydra, and Tom was there—Tom Brandy. Need I say that I was happy?
The first place that master started for, when the ship reached English shores, was his aunt’s pretty home in Yorkshire.
Almost the first words he said, when his good old auntie sailed smiling into the room, were,—