Reader, my story is all but ended, and I am not the one to keep the curtain up a single minute longer than is necessary.
Just as they were then, in their rags and skins, Captain Herbert insisted on bundling them on board the Caledonia. “Bundling” is the right word in the right place.
When Tom Talisker saw advancing to meet him on the quarter-deck a beautiful girl of some seventeen summers—we should always call it summers when talking of a lady’s age—he felt inclined to hang fire, and Bernard was half afraid too.
But Tom soon screwed up his courage, took Brother Bernard by the hand, and both advanced; and when she looked at them ’Theena first smiled and then laughed right heartily, though the tears were rolling over her face all the time. And everybody joined in the laugh, even the Crusoes themselves.
. . . . . . .
The treasure was safely loaded and stowed, and let me say to his credit that Barnaby Blunt was not a bit jealous of the young men’s luck.
“’Liza Ann and me has eno’, praised be His name,” said Barnaby, “and I wish you long life and luck to spend your fortune, boys.”
When boats at Guayaquil brought off Tom’s treasures of natural history, and brought off at the same time his old friend Samaro to see Uncle Robert, the latter was indeed a proud and happy man. And his parting with his quondam guide was quite affecting.
“My boy Tom may see you again, Samaro,” he said, “he is a rover born; but I never shall till we meet up bye. Farewell!”
“A dios, my good señor. A dios.”