aight
into the port of Panama, now in sight.

"Mr Crozier!" calls out the old coxswain, "do ye see that craft--the
one riding at anchor out yonder in the roadstead?"

All three turn their eyes in the direction indicated; soon as they have
done so, together exclaiming:

"_The Crusader_!"

The last incident of our tale takes place at Cadiz, in a grand cathedral
church; before the altar of which stand two English naval officers, and
alongside each a beautiful Spanish damsel, soon to be his wedded wife.

It scarce needs to tell that the bridegrooms are Edward Crozier and
Willie Cadwallader--both now lieutenants. Nor need we say who are the
brides; since they are to be given away by Don Gregorio Montijo.

As little necessary to speak of the ceremonial splendour of that double
wedding--long time the _novedad_ of Cadiz.

Enough to say that present at it are all the wealth and fashion of the
old Andalusian city, with foreign consuls, and the commanders of
warships in the port: conspicuous amongst these, Captain Bracebridge,
and the officers of Her Britannic Majesty's frigate _Crusader_.

Also two other men of the sea--of its merchant service; to hear of whose
presence there will, no doubt, make the reader happy, as it does both
the brides and the bridegrooms to see them. They belong to a ship lying
in the harbour, carrying polacca-masts, on her stern lettered "El
Condor;" one of the two being her captain, called Lantanas; the other
her chief officer, by name Blew.

God has been just and good to the gentle Chilian skipper, having long
since lifted from his mind the cloud that temporarily obscured it. He
now knows all, and above all, Harry Blew in his true colours; and,
though on the _Condor's_ deck they are still captain and mate, when
below by themselves in her cabin, all distinction of rank disappears,
and they are affectionate friends--almost as brothers.

In the prosperous trading-craft _Condor_, re-converted into her original
shape of ship--regularly voyaging between Valparaiso and Cadiz,
exchanging the gold and silver of Chili for the silks and sweet wines of
Spain--but few would recognise a barque once chased over the South Sea,
believed to be a spectre; and, it is to be hoped, no one will ever again
see her sailing under a _Flag of Distress_.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flag of Distress, by Mayne Reid

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLAG OF DISTRESS ***

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