In the course of the day we managed to rig a raft and thereby reach the shore.
It was a wild and desolate beach on which we landed, and glad we were to find even the huts of Indians in which to shelter.
There we lived for three long weeks, making many trips in the canoes of the Indians to the ship, and bringing on shore as many of the necessaries of life as we could find.
But alas! the loss of Bernard and the terror of that terrible night had done their work on poor Mrs. Herbert. She gradually sunk and died.
We buried her near the beach on that strange wild shore, and raised a monument over the grave, roughly built in the form of a cross, from green lava rocks.
Our adventures after that may be briefly told.
The ship did not break up for many weeks, and where the carrion is there cometh the “hoody crow.” The first coasting vessel that found out the wreck plundered it, and sailed away leaving us to perish for aught they cared. But with the captain of the next we managed to come to terms, and the promise of a handsome reward secured us a passage to Callao, and there we found a Christian ship and in due time arrived in England.
“And what about Bernard?” said Tommy with eager eyes.
“The mystery about Bernard still remains, dear boy. He may be living somewhere yet in the interior of Ecuador, or he may have been taken away by some passing ship, or—and this is my own opinion—he is dead.”
“And the baby ’Theena is living, isn’t she?” said Alicia.