“No, no,” said Mander; “if their vessel is no pirate, I do not fear them.  But I will not have them here.”

Now, after Mander had embraced his family, they hurried away in tears, the girl Lucilla casting not one glance at Dickory.  Impressed by the impulse that it was the proper thing to do, Dickory put on his coat and waistcoat and clapped upon his head his high cocked hat.  Then he rapidly followed Mander to the beach, which they reached before the boat touched the sand.

When the man in the stern of the boat, which was now almost within hailing distance, saw the two figures run down upon the beach, he spoke to the oarsmen and they all stopped and looked around.  The stop was occasioned by the sight of Dickory in his uniform; and this, under the circumstances, was enough to stop any boat’s crew.  Then they fell to again and pulled ashore.  When the boat was beached one of its occupants, a roughly dressed man, sprang ashore and walked cautiously towards Mander; then he gave a great shout.

“Heigho, heigho!” he cried, “and Mander, this is you!”

Then there was great hand-shaking and many words.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the man, raising his hat to Dickory, “it is now more than two years since I have seen my friend here, when he was marooned by pirates.  We were all on the same merchantman, but the pirate took me along, being short of hands.  I got away at last, sir” (all the time addressing Dickory instead of Mander, this being respect to his rank), “and shipping on board that brig, sir, I begged it of the captain that he would drop anchor here and take in water, although I cannot say it was needed, and give me a chance to land and see if my old friend be yet alive.  I knew the spot, having well noted it when Mander and his family were marooned.”

“And this is Lucilla’s ship,” said Dickory to himself.  But to the sailor he said:  “This is a great day for your friend and his family.  But you must not lift your hat to me, for I am no officer.”

For a long time, at least it seemed so to Dickory, who wanted to run to the cave and tell the good news, they all stood together on the sands and talked and shook hands and laughed and were truly thankful, the men who had come in the boat as much so as those who were found on the island.  It was agreed, and there was no discussion on this point, that the Mander family should be carried away in the brig, which was an English vessel bound for Jamaica, but the happy Mander would not ask any of the boat’s crew to visit him at his home.  Instead, he besought them to return to their vessel and bring back some clothes for women, if any such should be included in her cargo.

“My family,” said he, “are not in fit condition to venture themselves among well-clad people.  They are, indeed, more like savages than am I myself.”

“I doubt,” said Mander’s friend, “if the ship carries goods of that description, but perhaps the captain might let you have a bale of cotton cloth, although I suppose—­” and here he looked a little embarrassed.