* Junk, things stored but not in use.
My wife overhauled our wardrobes, and the neatest uniforms were put ready for the boys and me, for though neither my wife nor Jenny had ever dreamed of appearing otherwise than they would have done, had they been at home amongst civilized people in Europe, yet we, accustomed daily to rough and often even dirty work, had adopted just that costume which best suited our comfort and inclination. We should indeed have surprised the smart man-o'-war's men, had we appeared in our great shapeless wide-brimmed hats, our linen coats and trousers, our broad leathern belts and hairy buskins; so we next day readily donned the more becoming costumes.
At the break of that eventful morn, when we were destined once more to set our eyes upon our fellow men, and to hear news of the outer world, from which for so many years we had been exiled, we assembled in our little breakfast-room. The meal was eaten hurriedly and almost in silence, for our hearts were too full, and our minds too busily occupied, to allow of any outward display of excitement. Fritz and Jack then slipped quietly out, and presently returned from the garden with baskets of the choicest fruits in fresh and fragrant profusion, and with these, as presents for the strangers, we went on board our yacht.
The anchor was weighed, the sails set, and with the canoe in tow the little vessel, as though partaking of our hopes and joyous expectation, bounded merrily over the waters of Safety Bay, gave a wide berth to the Reef, against whose frowning rocks the sea still lashed itself to foam, and kept away for the cove, where the English ship unconsciously awaited us. The Pug-nosed Cape was reached, and to the surprise and utter amazement of the strangers, we rounded the point and brought up within hail.
Every eye on board and on shore was turned towards us, every glass was produced and fixed upon our motions; for of all the strange sights which the gallant crew may have looked for, such an anomaly as a pleasure yacht, manned by such a party as ours, and cruising upon this strange and inhospitable shore, was the furthest from their thoughts.
Fritz and I stepped into our boat, and pulled for the brig. In another minute we were upon her deck. The captain, with the simple frankness of a British seaman, welcomed us cordially, and having led us into his cabin, begged us to explain to what good fortune he owed a visit from residents upon a coast generally deemed uninhabited, or the abode of the fiercest savages.
I gave him an outline of the history of the wreck, and of our sojourn upon these shores, and spoke to him, too, of Miss Montrose, and of the providential way in which we had been the means of rescuing her from her lonely position.
`Then,' said the gallant officer, rising and grasping Fritz by the hand, `let me heartily thank you in my own name, and in that of Colonel Montrose; for it was the hope of finding some trace of that brave girl that led me to these shores. The disappearance of the Dorcas has been a terrible blow to the Colonel, and yet, though for three years no word of her or of any of those who sailed in her has reached England, he has never entirely abandoned all hope of again hearing of his daughter. I knew this, and a few weeks ago, when I was about to leave Sydney for the Cape, I found three men who declared themselves survivors of the Dorcas, and said that their boat, of four which left the wreck, was the only one which, to their knowledge, reached land in safety.
`From them I learned all particulars, and applying for permission to cruise in these latitudes, I sailed in the hopes of finding further traces of the unfortunate crew. My efforts have been rewarded by unlooked-for success.'
Fritz replied most modestly to the praises which he received, and then the captain begged to be introduced to my wife and Miss Montrose.