"Wod's the bloke say?" asked the crowd. "Oh, say it again!" And the stranger said it again.
But the crowd shook a unanimous head.
"I believe the silly galoot don't talk English," cried Hart; "'ere, where's Dutchy?"
They shoved their one "Dutchman" forward, and after some interchange of utter un-intelligibilities, listened to by every one with bated breath, Hermann turned round.
"I not versteh, captain. I denk him ein French."
The Frenchman was joined by two or three more, and then by a dozen.
"Why, they're all French," said the disgusted crowd. "What's Frenchmen doin' on any island of ours?"
And until the sea went down, which it did sufficiently to allow them to get ashore at about ten o'clock, they discussed the question as to whether the Crozets were English or not. It was settled by old Mackenzie.
"All islands as don't belong to any one belongs to us," he said; "it was arranged so by Disraeli."
They got ashore with some risk, and were greeted by the Frenchman in the most amiable way.