"International code: 'I want to communicate,'" reported the bos'n.
"Reply in the negative," repeated my father; "and give my compliments to the Editor of the Yachtsman's Fortnightly."
The motor throbbed, and the "Fortuna," gathering way, showed her stern to the Brazilian yacht, the crew of which were dividing their attention between the vessel that had baulked their enterprise and the gaunt outlines of the hulk of the "San Philipo," as, raised on the summit of the reef, she stood out boldly against the cliffs of the treasure island.
In another hour we had caught a favouring breeze, and the scene of our many and varied adventures had disappeared beneath the horizon. The "Fortuna" was homeward bound.
* * * * *
Little remains to be said concerning the "San Philipo" treasure. The "Fortuna" had a long, though pleasant, passage home, Dr. Conolly leaving the yacht at Singapore, where he received a cablegram from London offering him his long-desired post as medical officer on a liner.
Yadillah took his discharge at Suez, and, with a fair share of the spoils, announced his intention of setting up as a bumboatman at that port.
Eighteen months after our departure the "Fortuna" entered Fowey Harbour, where an enthusiastic welcome awaited us.
Once more we were back in our home at Polruan, Alec Johnston remaining as a trusted servant. The rest of the crew of the "Fortuna" have scattered far and wide, but we frequently hear from most of them, while the bos'n and the quartermaster, who have bought pretty little cottages near Falmouth, often pay us a welcome visit.
The proceeds of the residue of the treasure have been judiciously invested, and the only thing that apparently troubles my father is the importunities of the Inland Revenue authorities.