Beyond all question there must be a ship on the west of the island, and perhaps she was in distress and asking for assistance.

 

            Accordingly it was decided that a reconnaissance should be made next morning in that direction and the ship's boat was on the point of being launched, at nine o'clock, when Lieutenant Littlestone stopped the proceedings.

 

            There had just appeared at the extreme point of the cape, not a kayak, nor yet one of the canoes commonly in use among the aborigines, but a light vessel of modern construction, a pinnace of some fifteen tons. As soon as she had drawn near the Unicorn she hoisted a red and white flag.

 

            The astonishment of the commander, officers, and crew of the corvette can be imagined when they saw a canoe put off from the pinnace, carrying a white flag at the stern in sign of friendship, and make straight for the corvette.

 

            Two men came aboard the Unicorn and introduced themselves. They were Swiss, Jean Zermatt and his eldest son Fritz, survivors of the wrecked Landlord, of whom no news had ever been heard.

 

            The Englishmen welcomed most heartily the father and son, and Lieutenant Littlestone responded with alacrity to the invitation they gave him to go on board their pinnace.

 

            It was only natural that M. Zermatt should feel some pride when presenting the commander of the Unicorn first to his brave helpmate and then to his other three sons. It was impossible not to admire their resolute bearing, their intelligent faces, their splendid health. Every member of this family was good to look upon. Then Jenny was introduced to Lieutenant Littlestone.

 

            "But what land is this, where you have been living for these twelve years past, M. Zermatt?" he enquired.

 

            "We have named it New Switzerland," M. Zermatt replied, "a name which it will always keep, J hope."

 

            "Is it an island, commander?" Fritz asked.

 

            "Yes: an island in the Indian Ocean, which was not marked on the charts."

 

            "We did not know that it was an island," Ernest observed, "for we have never left this part of the coast, fearing that we might meet with danger."

 

            "You did right, for we have seen some aborigines," Lieutenant Littlestone replied.

 

            "Aborigines?" echoed Fritz, unable to conceal his surprise.

 

            "Sure," the commander declared. "Yesterday—in a kind of canoe, or rather a kayak."

 

            "Those aborigines were only my brother and myself," Jack answered, laughing. "We blackened our faces and arms in order to be taken for savages."

 

            "Why disguise yourselves?"

 

            "Because we did not know whom we had to deal with, commander, and your ship might have been a pirate ship!"

 

            "Oh!" said Lieutenant Littlestone. "One of the ships of His Majesty King George III!"

 

            "I quite agree," Fritz replied, "but we thought it better to get back to our dwelling at Rock Castle so as to return all together."

 

            "I must add," M. Zermatt put in, "that we should have done so at break of day. Fritz and Jack had observed that your corvette was undergoing repairs, and so we were sure of finding her in this bay."

 

            Jenny's happiness was great when the commander told her that he knew Colonel Montrose by name. Further, before the Unicorn had sailed for the Indian Ocean the papers had reported the Colonel's arrival at Portsmouth, and later in London. But since, subsequently to this, the news had been published that the passengers and crew of the Dorcas had all perished, with the exception of the second mate and the three sailors landed at Sydney, one can imagine the despair that must have racked the unhappy father at the thought of his daughter's death. His grief could only be equalled by his joy when he should learn that Jenny had survived the wreck of the Dorcas.

 

            Meanwhile the pinnace was getting ready to return to Deliverance Bay, where M. and Mme. Zermatt proposed to offer hospitality to Lieutenant Littlestone. The latter, however, wished to keep them until the end of the day. And then, as they agreed to spend the night in the bay, three tents were pitched at the foot of the rocks, one for the four sons, another for the father and mother, and the third for Jenny Montrose.

 

            And then the history of the Zermatt family could be related in full detail, from the moment of their setting foot on this land of New Switzerland. It was only natural that the commander and his officers should express their keen desire to go and see the arrangements of the little colony and the comfortable accommodations they had made at Rock Castle and Falconhurst.

 

            After an excellent repast served on board the Unicorn, M. and Mme. Zermatt with their four sons and Jenny took leave of Lieutenant Littlestone and sought the shelter of the tents within the bay.

 

            When he was alone with his wife M. Zermatt spoke to her as follows:

 

            "My dear Betsy, an opportunity is afforded us of returning to Europe, of seeing our fellow-countrymen and our friends once more. But it behooves us to think that our position is altered now. New Switzerland is no longer an unknown island. Other ships will be putting in here before long."

 

            "Of what are you doubtful?" Mme. Zermatt asked.

 

            "I am trying to decide whether or not we should take advantage of this opportunity."

 

            "My dear," Betsy replied, "ever since yesterday I have been thinking earnestly, and this is the result. Why should we leave this land, where we are so happy? Why should we try to renew relations which time and absence must have broken altogether? Have we not come to an age when one longs too ardently for rest to face the risks of a long voyage?"

 

            "Ah! My dear wife," cried M. Zermatt, embracing her, "you have understood me! Yes, it would be almost like ingratitude to Heaven to forsake our New Switzerland! But it is not we alone who are concerned. Our children—"

 

            "Our children," Betsy rejoined. "I quite understand that they should long to return to their own country. They are young; they have the future before them; and although their absence must be a great grief to us, it is only right to leave them free."

 

            "You are right, Betsy; I agree with you."

 

            "Let our boys sail on the Unicorn, my dear.