expostulating with him, and we heard a sound behind us.
"For the love of God move not," said the captain; but every ear
listened.

As the sun gilds one cloud after another in rapid succession, rising
higher and higher, so did one face after another illumine with hope and
deliverance as the sound became more audible. We had heard it before,
but, oh, so long ago, could it have been in our dreams? It seemed so
familiar, yet we had never heard it on the island. It sounded so
homelike, though our own home was far inland. But to British ears and
British hearts could such a sound be unknown? The long, measured, steady
stroke of the oars of a man-of-war's boat broke upon our happy senses;
and yet we were silent, as if turned to stone. The conviction of our
safety and deliverance sent the once-burthened hearts in silent
thankfulness to the foot of God.

"Avast there! keep under the shelter of this rock," said a man's deep
voice, in a subdued tone, "it won't do to run right into the mouths of
these blackguards without a little reconnoitering." Our captain crept
silently to the side from whence the voice proceeded and hailed them.
"Hollo! here's a fellow up here, we had better settle him at once, lest
he gives the alarm," said the deep voice.

This made us all move quickly to the same place, and, as we caught sight
of the gallant sailors, who, though strangers to us, seemed each to
possess the features of dear and long-lost friends, our feelings could
scarcely be restrained. An intuitive feeling that we might, by some rash
movement, lose the heavenly chance just opening to our view, kept us in
iron bounds. As it was, a sort of hub-bub did ensue, they not
understanding who we were, and we caring for nothing on this near
approach of delivery. But our captain swung himself down by the rope
ladder into the boat, while we eagerly drank in every word of the
precious voices and language we had thought never to hear again, while
he explained our situation. "What, the missing family so long sought
for, so deeply mourned? Now God be praised. Up there four days, battling
it out. Well done! Those blackguards shall have it double-fold. What an
innocent boy with his big hat; who is the pretty child? Is that all her
own hair? I say, which is the Mother? She is tall enough for a
grenadier. Poor things, poor souls; what sufferings, what privations.
All by themselves. Hah! indeed, joined only the last year. Well, we are
heart and soul at their