Speculation remained on tiptoe for nearly three hours, at the end of which time the boat drew near.

“It’s a man, anyhow,” observed Captain Ogilvie, who was one of those near the outer end of the pier.

“I say,” observed his friend the “leftenant”, who was looking through a telescope, “if—­that’s—­not—­Ruby—­Brand—­I’ll eat my hat without sauce!”

“You don’t mean—­let me see,” cried the captain, snatching the glass out of his friend’s hand, and applying it to his eye.  “I do believe!—­yes! it is Ruby, or his ghost!”

By this time the boat was near enough for many of his old friends to recognize him, and Ruby, seeing that some of the faces were familiar to him, rose in the stern of the boat, took off his hat and waved it.

This was the signal for a tremendous cheer from those who knew our hero; and those who did not know him, but knew that there was something peculiar and romantic in his case, and in the manner of his arrival, began to cheer from sheer sympathy; while the little boys, who were numerous, and who love to cheer for cheering’s sake alone, yelled at the full pitch of their lungs, and waved their ragged caps as joyfully as if the King of England were about to land upon their shores!

The boat soon swept into the harbour, and Ruby’s friends, headed by Captain Ogilvy, pressed forward to receive and greet him.  The captain embraced him, the friends surrounded him, and almost pulled him to pieces; finally, they lifted him on their shoulders, and bore him in triumphal procession to his mother’s cottage.

And where was Minnie all this time?  She had indeed heard the rumour that something had occurred at the Bell Rock; but, satisfied from what she heard that it could be nothing very serious, she was content to remain at home and wait for the news.  To say truth, she was too much taken up with her own sorrows and anxieties to care as much for public matters as she had been wont to do.

When the uproarious procession drew near, she was sitting at Widow Brand’s feet, “comforting her” in her usual way.

Before the procession turned the corner of the street leading to his mother’s cottage, Ruby made a desperate effort to address the crowd, and succeeded in arresting their attention.

“Friends, friends!” he cried, “it’s very good of you, very kind; but my mother is old and feeble; she might be hurt if we were to come on her in this fashion.  We must go in quietly.”

“True, true,” said those who bore him, letting him down, “so, good day, lad; good day.  A shake o’ your flipper; give us your hand; glad you’re back, Ruby; good luck to ’ee, boy!”

Such were the words, followed by three cheers, with which his friends parted from him, and left him alone with the captain.

“We must break it to her, nephy,” said the captain, as they moved towards the cottage.

“’Still so gently o’er me stealin”,
Memory will bring back the feelin’.’