By this time it was hard upon sunrise, and such a sunrise too! The first sign that came to us was the paling of the larger stars in the east; this was followed by a long thin streak of silver-grey, just balanced on the edge of the horizon. As, bit by bit, this grey died out, its place was taken by a faint tint of salmon-pink, which in its turn again surrendered to all manner of other colours as the darkness drew off the remainder of the sky. Even the sea participated in the general glory. A wonderful hush overspread everything, and to me it seemed that an intense melancholy had assumed possession of the world. Like the man in the Ancient Mariner, we might have been the "first who had ever burst into that silent sea." The very ripple of the water under our squat bows, and the creaking of the boat's timbers, were subdued into harmony with the general effect. Gradually long shafts of light pierced the eastern heavens. Then, with almost startling suddenness, the sun leaped above the horizon, and the sea resumed its natural hue; as if by magic, the colours faded out of the sky, and day was born to us.
About seven o'clock Veneda woke, much refreshed by his sleep. Calling the Malay aft I gave him the helm, getting Veneda to instruct him as to the course I wanted steered. This done, I went forrard to prepare some rice for breakfast. Though he never allowed a sign of it to escape him, I knew Veneda's sufferings must be intense. As far as I could see I was powerless to alleviate them; and whenever I asked him how he felt, he only laughed grimly, and said—
"Get me to an island, that's all I want, get me to an island!"
All that day we sailed on and on. About midday the wind dropped, and the boat's progress was consequently very slow. It was monotonous work, but, as we both agreed, it was better than prison in Batavia. Towards evening the coast of Sumatra was just distinguishable, and this we followed up in the hope, before dark, of hitting an island that would suit us. We sighted several, but for some reason Veneda found an objection for them all. At last, just as I was beginning to think we should have to pass the night at sea, we came abreast of one of which he expressed his approval. It was very small, not more than a mile in length, but thickly timbered, and with a broad strip of sand running all round it.
Having decided on the best spot to land, I steered the boat in, and after a bit of manœuvring, beached her on a good sandy bottom towards the most northerly point. The first business was to discover if the island contained fresh water. And here arose a difficulty. I could not take Veneda ashore with me, and I dared not go myself and leave him at the mercy of the Malay. He divined what was passing in my mind, and solved the problem with his usual quickness.
"Give me your revolver, and prop me up here. I'll watch him till you come back, never fear."
I did as he desired me, and then bidding him "good-bye," clambered over the side and waded ashore.