“May I inquire, sir, your name, and that of your vessel?”
Both men started and stared in amazement, and no wonder, at hearing themselves thus addressed by an inhabitant of Terra Australis.
“Who are you, in the name of wonder?” stammered one at last.
“I am from Holland, and was shipwrecked here many years ago. I have adopted this country as my own, and am now one of these people. This,” I said, motioning to Zolca to come forward, “is Prince Zolca, the chief of this country, who bids you welcome.”
Zolca, who had been tutored by me, held out his hand and the officer I had been addressing took it respectfully. The fellow with the red face curled his moustache and looked on with a sneer.
“May I inquire the name of your ship?” continued the officer.
Now I knew that this question would be asked and had puzzled much over the answer. I determined to tell the truth, for I had undergone my undeserved punishment.
“My name is Diedrich Buys, of Harlem, I was clerk on board the Batavia. Although innocent of any misdeed I was found amongst the mutineers and marooned here by Commander Pelsart.”
“Incredible!” said the officer. “’Tis over a thousand leagues from here to where the Batavia struck on the Abrolhos.”
“It took us four years to reach here,” I said.