hips, without
exception, were dressed with flags, and there was a long article in one
of the local papers headed, "Thrilling Romance of the Sea," in which the
story of Ella's rescue from the wreck told with great effect.

We remained at Melbourne about a week, and then made sail once more,
still with favourable winds and fine weather, until we reached the Cape
of Good Hope--which we did in little more than a month--when we
encountered a very strong breeze from the southward and eastward, from
which we were glad enough to take shelter behind the fine breakwater in
the Bay. Here we again filled up provisions and water, and once more
despatched letters home.

By the time that we had done what we wanted, the gale was over, and we
lost no time in making a fresh start. We soon got into the south-east
trades, and, as they happened to be blowing strong, we made the best of
them, and did not attempt to stop at Saint Helena. We were fortunate
again in crossing the line, getting a little slant of wind, which
carried us handsomely across the usually calm belt which so tries the
patience of the homeward-bound seaman at that spot; and after a
remarkably fine passage of thirty-nine days from Table Bay, we found
ourselves at anchor in Funchal Roads.

One of the canoes (both of which the schooner carried on deck) was got
out, and my father and I went ashore to the post-office, where we found,
as we expected, letters from my sister in answer to ours from Melbourne.
My poor father was completely unmanned by the warmth of affection
breathed forth in my sister's letter to him, and I was scarcely less so
at the delight she manifested at our safety and success, and the warm
sympathy with which she responded to the timid message my letter had
conveyed to her from her unknown sister.

We hurriedly got in a stock of wine, and once more made sail, and after
a baffling passage of a fortnight, against head-winds and light airs and
calms, reached Weymouth Bay on a most lovely evening in the last week of
June, having accomplished our voyage round the world, with all its
delays, in somewhat under eleven months.

The moment that we were at anchor one of the canoes was got into the
water, and my father, Ella, and I were paddled ashore by the two natives
(who could now speak English tolerably well, and had accustomed
themselves to the use of civilised clothing), Bob and Winter remaining
on board their respective craft that night to take care of t