to clear away.

At that moment a shriek was heard on shore, and Betsy was seen to
spring, we are afraid to say how many feet, into the air.

"Dar', she's reco'nised us now!" exclaimed Ebony with delight; and it
was evident that he was right for Betsy continued to caper upon the
sands in a manner that could only be the result of joy or insanity,
while the coal-scuttle beat tempestuously about her head like an enraged
balloon.

Another moment and a signal from the chief brought the ambushed
Christian warriors pouring down to the shore to see the long-lost and
loved ones reunited, while Ebony ran about in a state of frantic
excitement, weeping copiously, and embracing every one who came in his
way.

But who shall describe the agony of disappointment endured by poor Betsy
when she found that Waroonga was _not_ among them? the droop of the
spirits, the collapse of the coal-scuttle! Language is impotent. We
leave it to imagination, merely remarking that she soon recovered on the
faith of the happiness which was yet in store for her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

And now, once again, we find ourselves in the palm-grove of Ratinga
Island. It is a fine autumn afternoon. The air is still as regards
motion, but thrilling with the melody of merry human voices as the
natives labour in the fields, and alive with the twittering of birds as
they make love, quarrel, and make it up again in the bushes. Now and
then a hilarious laugh bursts from a group of children, or a hymn rises
from some grateful heart, for as yet there is no secular music in
Ratinga!

In the lagoon lies a man-of-war, its sails neatly furled, and its trim
rigging, dark hull, and taper spars, perfectly reproduced in the clear
water.

As the sun sank lower towards the west, our friend Ebony might have been
seen slowly climbing the side of one of the neighbouring hills with
Richard Rosco, the ex-pirate, on his back.

"Set me down now, my friend," said Rosco, "you are far too good to me;
and let me know what it is you have to say to me. You have quite roused
my curiosity by your nods and mysterious manner. Out with it now,
whatever it is."

The negro had placed Rosco in such a position on a ledge of rock that he
could see the lagoon and the ship at anchor.

The ex-pirate had by that time recovered some of his former strength,
and, although there rested on his countenance an air of profound
sadness, there mingled with it a hue of returning health, which non