or the _Pilot's Bride_ might get wracked down 'mongst the
islands Kerguelen way, an' no shep might ever call to take you off."

"Oh, captain, how can we thank you!" exclaimed Fritz, overcome with
emotion at the skipper's thoughtfulness. "Still, you will come and look
us up next year should all be well with you, eh?"

"You bet on thet," replied the worthy old man. "I guess you'll see me
next fall, if I'm in the land o' the livin'!"

"And you'll call to see if there are any letters for us at the Cape of
Good Hope, won't you? I told our people at home to write there, on the
chance of their communications being forwarded on."

"I'll bring 'em sure, if there's any," replied the skipper; and, by this
time, a second boat having been sent off from the ship, in which the
seamen who had pulled the first whale-boat ashore now took their places,
along with the Tristan islander, it only remained for the kind old
captain to embark--and then, the brothers would be crusoes indeed!

"Good-bye, an' God bless you, my b'ys," he said, wringing first the hand
of Fritz and then that of Eric, in a grip that almost crushed every
feeling in those respective members. "Good-bye, my lads; but keep a
stiff upper lip an' you'll do! Trust in providence, too, an' look arter
the seals, so as to be ready with a good cargo when I come back next
fall!"

"Good-bye, good old friend," repeated Fritz, wringing his honest hand
again on the old man stepping into the boat, the crew of which raised a
parting cheer as it glided away to the ship, leaving the young crusoes
behind on the beach!

They watched with eager eyes the sails being dropped and the anchor
weighed, the _Pilot's Bride_ soon after spreading her canvas and making
way out of the little bay.

Then, when she got into the offing, the skipper, as a final adieu,
backed the vessel's main-topsail and dipped her colours three times,
firing the bow gun at the same time.

It was a nautical farewell from their whilom comrades: and then the
brothers were left alone!

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

TAKING AN INVENTORY.

The westerly wind being, of course, fair for the _Pilot's Bride_ in her
run back to Tristan d'Acunha, she soon disappeared in the distance--the
snow-capped cone of the larger island being presently the only object to
be seen on the horizon, looking in the distance like a faint white cloud
against the sky. The evening haze shut out everything else from their
gaze: the lower outlin