"Saved! Saved!" cried Tommy, dancing for joy. "Oh, let's go and meet them, Bess."
"Better wait, dear," said Elizabeth, whose lips were quivering. "Let them drive the savages away first."
In tense excitement they watched the missionary lifted into the boat. It was too far distant as yet for them to distinguish its occupants. As soon as the missionary was aboard the sailors dipped their oars again and pulled lustily for the shore. The girls strained their eyes. The newcomers might be Dutch, French, English, or American; they were white men; the long captivity was ended.
The boat had almost reached the beach. Suddenly Tommy gave a scream, and clutched at Mary's arm.
"It's Uncle Ben! It's Uncle Ben!" she cried.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE HOME-COMING
Who can describe the happiness of friends long parted when they meet again! As there is a grief too deep for tears, so there is a joy too intense for words to express. Let the reader picture to herself the meeting of uncle and nieces, the sober satisfaction of Mr. Purvis, the ecstasy of little Dan Whiddon, the jolly faces of Long Jimmy, Sunny Pat and the rest.
Uncle Ben's story was a simple and natural one. He had no sooner launched the raft with all his crew on board, than the Elizabeth went down with a gurgle and was seen no more. The raft drifted about for days at the mercy of every current, until it was sighted by a merchant brig. The castaways were picked up, but in spite of Captain Barton's entreaties the skipper would not alter his course to search for the girls. He was bound for San Francisco with a perishable cargo, and declared that he could not waste time and money scouring the South Pacific for any females, even were they princesses or queens.