Noah acted as a species of guide; but no trace of their presence could be found in that quarter, save the bare, bleached skull of poor old Captain Puffadder, whose agency in our friends' escape had been discovered by the Malays, and who had been buried by them up to his neck in sand on the seashore, and left thus to perish under the advancing tide, like the famous Wigton martyrs of the delirious sheriff of Dumfries.
Notices will be found in the various newspapers of that month, stating that, in north latitude 27 deg. 30 min., and east longitude 40 deg. 10 min., near the Europa Rocks, H.M.S. Clyde picked up a boat, with two dead bodies in it. One was evidently that of a South American, with rings in his ears; the other was of great stature, and supposed to be a Yankee seaman.
Noah declared them to be Zuares Barradas and Badger, from Cape Cod—the last of the mutineers. By a curious coincidence, one of these papers paragraphed that the Portuguese at Tristan d'Acunha were building a chapel over the grave of the elder Barradas, who among them has the reputation of such great sanctity, that his island is now the scene of annual summer pilgrimages.
CHAPTER XXV.
CONCLUSION.
Eight months after all this, it was in the drawing-room of Laurel Lodge that those whose adventures we have traced so far were all waiting for the boom of the dinner-gong, for it was the evening of Ethel's birthday; and she had been a bride four months, while Rose had been wedded but a few weeks—so both were all smiles, white lace, and loveliness.
All that day the familiar chimes of Acton-Rennel (which had rung in honour of their return) had jangled merrily in the square Norman tower, sending their notes over the chase, the mere, the long green English lanes, and kindling joy in many a worthy heart that loved the Bassets, and who now, in home-brewed brown October, drank deep to their healths, and welcome home!
Many of "Papa's household gods," as Ethel named them, which had been bought by old friends, found their way back again to Laurel Lodge. "Mamma's" picture hung in the usual place—even on its old nails; and Rose's azaleas still bloomed in the conservatory, as on the night when Hawkshaw laughed at them.
Morley and Ethel occupied her old room, and often, when she drew the curtains, she thought of that terrible morning when she looked up to Acton Chine and thought a darkness had fallen on the outer world. How difficult to realise all that had passed since then!
There was present the old rector (papa's friend); he had read the last service for Ethel's mamma, and who preached the sermon prior to their departure; and there, too, were Lucy Page and her brother Jack, who looked not a whit the worse for being jilted by Rose, as all the folks in the village say he was, for the rector's black-eyed daughter has undertaken to console him, while Lucy leans with pleasant confidence on the arm of the young fox-hunting squire of Cherrywood Hill, in out-door sports the rival of Jack, who is a first-class shot, and scores with ease his ninety odd points among the members of the 1st A.R.R.R.V.C., which mysterious letters mean the Acton-Rennel Royal Rifle Volunteer Corps, a distinguished body of men, which our friend Morley has since joined.