“You are just in time,” added he. “To-morrow morning the Firefly sails for Koetshing and you can continue your journey on board of her. You are certain to find some vessel at Koetshing which will convey you to Singapore.” The Europeans cordially thanked the commander for his reception, but announced their intention to remain outside the fortification. It would be the last night they should pass with the brave Poenan chief. The morrow would see them on board the Firefly, and the Poenan and his band would immediately start for soengei Miri. The night was passed in agreeable conversation teeming with reminiscences of the past trials through which they had fought hand-in-hand. Occasionally they became saddened by the thought of their approaching separation, but were soon reconciled to what they all saw was inevitable. At daybreak the Europeans carried the baskets containing their treasures on board the Firefly; Harimaoung Boekit accompanying them to the vessel. When the warning shriek of the steam-whistle sounded, the Poenan embraced his sister and looked lovingly into her eyes as if anxious to read her thoughts. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as he clasped her to his breast. He then took Wienersdorf’s hand and carried it to his lips. “Paharingkoe Dohong,” my brother Dohong, he sobbed. These were the only words which his violent emotion permitted him to utter. Another tinkling of bells, another whistle. He tore himself from the last embrace of Hamadoe, pressed the hands of his four friends and leaped ashore. The plank was withdrawn from the pier, the paddles began to rotate, and between brother and sister there interposed a gap which increased with every second, until their forms became lost to each other in the morning mist. Then Hamadoe wiped away a tear and whispered in Wienersdorf’s ear. “Now, you are everything to me.” The Firefly was a swift steamer and moved rapidly over the wide stream. By sunset she had reached the mouth of the river and the travellers obtained a full view of the ocean. The head of the vessel was now turned westward and before daybreak she entered the mouth of the soengei Moratabas, a branch of the Sarawak River. A few hours later she was at anchor before Koetshing, the capital of the Sarawak country. Our travellers were courteously received by Rajah Sir James Brooke, who listened to the history of their experiences with wrapt attention. He expressed his admiration of their pluck, perseverance, and presence of mind, but at the same time frankly condemned their desertion—designating it as “the faithless violation of a contract which they had made with their government.” Yet had he not the heart to deliver up to the Dutch men who had accomplished such a journey, who had experienced such trials and suffered so much, who had risked their lives in order to regain their liberty.