All was strange; for, although I could still catch the cooing of the doves away in the woods in the distance, there was nothing familiar to my sight near.
While I was reflecting on all these wonders, and puzzling my brains as to where we could possibly be, the second-mate, whom I had noticed still on the poop when I came out from the fo’c’s’le, as if he had remained up there on watch all night, came to my side and addressed me.
“Everyzing’s sdrange, leedel boys, hey?”
“Yes, sir,” said I. “I was wondering what part of the world we could be in.”
“Ze Galapagos,” he replied laconically, answering my question off-hand, in his solemn fashion and deep voice. “It vas call’t ze Galapagos vrom ze Spanish vort dat mean ze big toordles, zame dat yous zee dere.”
“Then Captain Snaggs was right after all, sir, about the ship’s course yesterday, when he said that Mr Flinders would run us ashore if it was altered?”
“Yase, dat vas zo,” said Jan Steenbock. “Dat voorst-mate one big vool, and he vas loose ze sheep! Dis vas ze Abingdon Islants, leedel boys—one of ze Galapagos groups. I vas recollecks him. I vas here befores. It vas Abingdon Islants; and ze voorst-mate is von big vool!”
As Jan Steenbock made this observation, a trifle louder than before, I could see the face of Mr Flinders, all livid with passion, as he came up the companion hatch behind the Dane.
“Who’s thet durned cuss a-calling o’ me names? I guess, I’ll spifflicate him when I sees him!” he yelled out at the pitch of his voice; and then pretending to recognise Jan Steenbock for the first time as his detractor, he added, still more significantly, “Oh, it air you, me joker, air it?”