Then they walked down to the beach in the direction from which they expected to see the strange ship. They had no need to use their telescope now. As soon as they reached the sands they saw the ship at anchor in the little cove, while from her masthead flew the strange flag.
While they gazed, a boat put off from the ship and rowed rapidly toward the shore.
In ten minutes it touched the sands.
The six oarsmen laid on their oars; and the one officer, in a uniform as strange as his flag, stood up in the bows and lifted his hat in courteous salutation to the islanders.
“I had not expected to find civilized people in this outlandish place,” he said, in English, to Justin, who came forward to meet him.
“You are welcome,” said Justin, offering his hand.
“I had no idea that there was a European colony here! What is it—English?” inquired the stranger, stepping on the shore, and again lifting his hat and bowing politely to the women.
“There is no colony. We are not colonists. We were cast away on this island nearly two years ago,” said Justin.
“Cast away!” echoed the stranger, recoiling in dismay.
“Yes. We were passengers in the East Indiaman, Sultana, bound from Boston to Calcutta, and which was wrecked upon these rocks below.”