eir curiosity, they wore round and proceeded at once to sea,
passing out through the Narrows again just as the sun was setting.
Thirty-six hours later, or about six o'clock on the following Friday
morning, they once more entered Gaunt's harbour and let go their anchor,
to the accompaniment of a surprised and delighted shout of welcome from
Nicholls, who--the entire party having removed on board the _Flying
Cloud_--happened to be keeping the anchor watch at the time.

But little more remains to be told. Being so shorthanded, the party
found it impossible to take the _Petrel_ away from the island with them;
she was therefore moved to a snug berth well up the river--her cargo, of
course, being first transferred to the _Flying Cloud_--and there well
thatched over with palm-leaves to protect her from the weather, in the
hope that if ever any unfortunates should be cast away upon the island
she might prove of service in enabling them to effect their escape; and
there she may possibly be at the present moment.

This done, the party made sail in the _Flying Cloud_ for Batavia, the
nearest port, which, the weather still favouring them, was reached after
a short but toilsome passage. Here they were fortunate enough to pick
up a shipwrecked crew of Englishmen who were only too glad to ship for
the passage home, especially as Ned felt justified in offering them the
top scale of wages; and the owners of the _Cloud_ having been
telegraphed to and letters written by all hands, advising their friends
of their safety, sail was once more made, this time for Old England
direct. On the voyage home the _Flying Cloud_ fully justified the name
which had been bestowed upon her; for, carrying on night and day, Ned
succeeded in making the fastest passage on record from Anjer to the
Lizard. The latter, or rather the light, was sighted one fine April
night in the first watch, nearly two years after the ship had last
passed it; and on the following day she hauled in round Portland, stood
across into Weymouth Bay to show her number, and then bore away up
channel again, a fine westerly breeze prevailing at the time, which Ned
was anxious to make the most of. At daylight next morning a tug came
alongside in the Downs, and after the usual amount of chaffering, the
tow-rope was passed on board her and she went ahead, the ship's crew at
the same time going aloft to stow the canvas under the watchful eye of
Manners, who was acting chief-mate, and who