Barry could not help a certain feeling of relief. Both he and Mrs.
Tracey had looked forward to the trial of Rawlings and the Greek with
the utmost aversion; for heartless villains and murderers as they were,
their probable death at the hands of the law haunted Mrs. Tracey like a
nightmare, and Barradas himself had a growing horror of the coming
time, for on his evidence alone Rawlings would certainly be hanged.

"I must tell Barradas," said Barry; "steward, send the mate here."

The Spaniard came below, heard the news in silence, bent his head and
crossed himself, and quietly went on deck again. He knew that in a few
hours, or a day or so at most, he would be arrested, but knew that his
conduct since the murder of Captain Tracey would go largely in his
favour, and that in both Barry and Mrs. Tracey he had friends. As for
attempting to escape, he had put the thought away at once and for ever
the night he walked to the little island cemetery.

"Are you ready to come on shore, Mrs. Tracey?" inquired Barry as the
mate left the cabin.

"Quite ready, captain," she answered with a light smile, "and see here.
Look what I am taking with me," and stepping into her cabin she
returned with the white wooden box which contained "Rose Maynard's Dot."

Barry rose to the occasion, like the man he was. "You must keep those
pearls, Mrs. Tracey. The woman for whom you intended them is married.
I only heard of it just now." He spoke very quietly, but Mrs. Tracey
could detect the shame that he felt in making the admission.

"I am so sorry----" she began, and then with sudden passion she flung
the box away. "How could she? I hate her! I hate her! She must be a
wicked, worthless----"

She gave him a glance which told Barry her secret, and then with an
hysterical sob passed him and entered her cabin, and as Toea shut the
door old Watson looked at Barry, and the faintest flicker of a smile
moved his lips.

Then stooping down he picked up the box of pearls and placed them in
Barry's hand.

"My boy, I think your happiness lies in there--in that cabin. She
loves you."

CHAPTER XVIII.

ON BOARD THE NEW BARQUE.

Three months had come and gone, and one warm summer's evening as Barry
was dressing for the theatre one of the hotel waiters announced
"Captain Watson."

"Come in, old man," cried Barry cheerfully, and he opened the door to
his visitor. "Sit down there and smoke while I put on my togs, then
we'll have a lo