steamer
there in triumph, and looked proud of his achievement, while he pointed
out everything he thought of value to Carey, and could not understand
the lad's hanging back from helping himself to articles he did not want.

The steamer was nearly laden with valuable pearl shell and the boxes of
pearls hoarded up by the old beachcomber, who was supposed to have
escaped from Norfolk Island with a party of his fellows who had all
passed away.

These must have been enough, with their insurance, to quite compensate
the company for their loss. In fact, voyage after voyage was made to
the _Chusan_ and to Jackum's island during the following twelve months
on salvage business, and with excellent results.

But we have nothing to do with that. It is enough to state that the
boats on the night of the wreck had been carried in safety to a western
Australian port; that the doctor rapidly began to mend; that Carey's
injured chest was doctored by a sick man; and that Jackum wanted badly
to follow the young adventurer when the time came for saying good-bye,
and was only stopped by its being impressed upon him that he was King of
Pearl Island now, and was to go on collecting till Carey came to see him
some day on a voyage with his father, to trade for all his copra, shell,
and pearls.

Jackum nodded and grinned.

"Get big lot. You come some day," he cried.

"Some day, Jackum, if my father will fit out a vessel."

"Iss," said Jackum. "No Big Dan. Killa feller. Mumkull eberybody.
You come sit along Jackum. Jackum show Car-ee how fro boomerang next
time. Ha, ha!"

The last Carey saw of him then was the tall black figure waving his
boomerang as he stood up in his canoe, before showing his teeth and then
hurling the weapon, to fly far after the retreating steamer, to curve up
and return--to the canoe--not quite, for it dropped into the sea some
fifty feet away, to be lost somewhere in the lovely submarine gardens of
the reef along by whose side the steamer glided.

A fortnight later, with the doctor steadily gaining strength, the vessel
glided into Moreton Bay. Then Brisbane was soon reached; but the
message had flown before on wire to the lonely watcher, waiting for the
son she would not believe to be dead, month after month, till
three-quarters of a year had passed.

And when the house was in sight there was a figure at an open door, and
Carey dashed off, his father hanging back, while Robert Bostock,
mariner, who was