The skipper was astonished on perceiving the island, while, to the still greater surprise of all spectators, it suddenly vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.
'A mirage!' the captain laughingly exclaimed. 'At anyrate, it was the most remarkable I've ever seen. All others were inverted on the clouds, but that one looked perfectly natural. At first I believed my reckoning, or the chronometer, was wrong. The longer one lives the more one learns.'
Without further incident the 'Alert' arrived at Batavia. There the brig, which had forged far ahead in the light winds, was already discharging her cargo in the roadstead.
The rescued German crew was immediately sent ashore, and some of them went to hospital to have their spear wounds dressed.
The 'Alert' immediately prepared to discharge her coals, and during several weeks Jack Clewlin experienced the most arduous toil of his life. From early morning till darkness set in he took his place at the winch, by which the cargo was raised from the hold, or used a shovel down below as stoutly as anyone on board.
'I like it,' he said to his old friend. 'It doesn't need rocking to put me to sleep at night.'
Captain Thorne and the mates kept watchful eyes on him, but when the work was done, and he was not allowed to visit the capital with any of the men, the disappointed lad became thoroughly disheartened and suspicious. Was the skipper punishing him for having left the barque without permission when she touched at the island in Torres Strait? He failed to perceive any other cause for such apparent neglect, and would have preferred a summary 'drum-head' court-martial to thus remaining neglected by those whom he had always endeavoured to serve faithfully. One morning he was called aft.
'Put up a shirt, collars, and a tooth-brush,' the skipper said.
'Am I to put on my best gear, sir,' Jack inquired.
'Why, of course,' the captain said. 'You're going ashore.'