It was. There could be no doubt of it. So clear was memory impressed by a great feeling that I could recognize individual houses I had gazed upon seventeen years before while I had leaned on the rail dreaming a happy dream.
"Luckner," I said, "you are Phelax once again. They call you 'pig,' and you clean the pigs and the pharmacy. There is the island. Open your eyes wide. Is it not lovely and beautiful?"
It was as beautiful as when I had seen it from aboard the Niobe. The houses still looked pretty and clean. There were terraces with gardens and white paths lined with palms.
"Phelax," I thought, "it is fit to be the home of the fairy princess. It is the home of the fairy princess. She must be there, with her delicate blue eyes and golden hair, she whom you have thought about all these years."
We put into port. I attended to my duties. The other officers asked me why I was so preoccupied. I answered their questions silently to myself.
"Phelax, now you must go and inspect your island. Perhaps you may find your fairy princess."
I went ashore by myself, and sauntered over the island all day. It was small, with gentle hills and an abundance of vegetation. Flowers were everywhere. It was truly an island of flowers. I went on through perfumed valleys and over breezy hills, lost in reverie, lost in my former life. A kind of hypnotism was upon me.
"Phelax," I thought, "of course you do not see the fairy princess. She is hidden beyond the flowers there. She will stay hidden. Is she to come to Phelax, a common sailor? Or even if you were a naval officer, would she come? She is too lovely for any mortal being."
So deep was I in fantasy that these thoughts inspired me to a sad regret and resignation. When evening came, I returned to the ship happy and yet downhearted.
That night we entertained on board members of the Royal Spanish Club and their guests. Some came for dinner, some afterward. It was a jolly meal. Then we gave an after-dinner entertainment, and I was called upon to entertain and amuse our guests. During my days as a sailor I was often in demand to amuse the company. The tricks I had learned among the Indian fakirs in Australia I had retained and cultivated. To this day I am somewhat skilful at various kinds of sleight of hand. I put on Oriental robes and turban. My face, freshly tanned by the sun of the Cameroons, needed no darkening. I had learned from the fakirs the solemn mystical demeanour and slow impressive movements that they cultivated. I must say that as I appeared before the guests in the salon of the Panther I cut quite an Oriental, wonderworking figure.