ngth, to my delight and that of all the crew, the last cask we had
on board was filled with oil, and with a deeply-laden ship we commenced
our homeward voyage. We encountered a heavy gale going round the Horn,
but the old _Juno_ weathered it bravely, though, as she strained a good
deal, we had afterwards to keep the pumps going for an hour or so during
each watch. We, however, made our way at a fair rate northward, and
once more crossed the line.

It may seem surprising that I had not hitherto examined the metal case
which old Tom had committed to my charge. The box itself I had resolved
not to open. I did not suppose that I should be induced to act as he
had done, but yet I thought it wiser not to run the risk of temptation.
We for several days lay becalmed, and one evening, while the crew were
lying about the decks overcome with the heat, I stowed myself away
for'ard, at a distance from the rest, and drew the paper out of the
case. Great was my surprise to find that it was addressed to my own
father. It contained a reference to the parchment in the box, and gave
a list both of the jewels, the notes, and gold. The writer spoke of his
wife and infant son, and charged my father, should any accident happen
to him, to act as their guardian and friend as well as their legal
adviser. The letter was signed "Clement Leslie."

"This is strange," I thought. "Then there can be no doubt that little
Clem is the very child old Tom saw placed in his nurse's arms on the
raft, and his poor mother must have been washed away when the ship went
down. Those Indian nurses, I have often heard, will sacrifice their own
lives for the sake of preserving the children committed to their charge,
and Clem's nurse must have held him fast in her arms, in spite of the
buffeting of the waves and the tossing of the raft during that dreadful
night when the Indiaman went down; and if she had any food, I dare say
she gave it to him rather than eat it herself. But, poor fellow, what
may have happened to him since we parted."

I now felt more anxious than ever to reach home, and longed for the
breeze to spring up which might carry us forward through the calm
latitudes. It came at last, and the _Juno_ again made rapid progress
homeward. We were bound up the Irish Channel to Liverpool; when,
however, we got within about a week's sail of the chops of the Channel,
it came on to blow very hard. The leaks increased, and we were now
compelled to kee