As the missionary intended to remain for several weeks longer in order to encourage and confirm his new converts, Jack and Peterkin and I held a consultation in the cabin of our schooner,—which we found just as we had left her, for everything that had been taken out of her was restored. We now resolved to delay our departure no longer. The desire to see our beloved native land was strong upon us, and we could not wait.
Three natives volunteered to go with us to Tahiti, where we thought it likely that we should be able to procure a sufficient crew of sailors to man our vessel; so we accepted their offer gladly.
It was a bright clear morning when we hoisted the snow-white sails of the pirate schooner and left the shores of Mango. The missionary, and thousands of the natives, came down to bid us God-speed, and to see us sail away. As the vessel bent before a light fair wind, we glided quickly over the lagoon under a cloud of canvas.
Just as we passed through the channel in the reef, the natives gave us a loud cheer; and as the missionary waved his hat while he stood on a coral rock with his gray hairs floating in the wind, we heard the single word "Farewell" borne faintly over the sea.
That night, as we sat on the taffrail, gazing out upon the wide sea, and up into the starry firmament, a thrill of joy, strangely mixed with sadness, passed through our hearts,—for we were at length "homeward bound," and were gradually leaving far behind us the beautiful, bright, green coral islands of the Pacific Ocean.
THE END.
