Alex was sure of one point, and that was that the El Dorado was overloaded.

“Dose shkvarehet shkippers vould dake a cheese-box to sea mit a cargo of le’t,” commented Steve.  “All dey care for is de havin’ de yob.  De owner he don’t care if de vessel sink mit de insurance.”

When Alex had shuffled out of the cottage, I gave the Dutchman the course of his narrative again.

“You were safe on Easter Island, and ill from stuffing yourself with fresh mutton,” I prompted, “And now what?”

Steve spat over the rail.

“Ram, lam’, sheep, und muddon for a hundred und fife days.  Dere vas noding odder.  Dot’s a kveer place, dot Easter Island, mit shtone gotts lyin’ round und det fulcanoes, und noding good to eat.  Ve liffed in a house de English manager gif us.  Dere’s a Chile meat gompany owns de island, und grows sheep.  Aboud a gouple of hundred kanakas chase de sheep.  Ve vas dreaded vell mit de vimmen makin’ luff und the kanakas glad mit it.  Dere vas noding else to do.  De manager he say no ship come for six months, und he vanted us to blant bodadoes, und ve had no tobacco.  He say de bodadoes get ripe in eight months, und I dink if I shtay dere eight months I go grazy.  Ve vas ragged, und efery day ve go und look for a vessel.  Ve gould see dem a long vay ouid, und ve made signals und big fires, but no ship efer shtopped.  De shkipper made a kvarrel mit de mates, und de old man he say he go away in de boat, und he bick Alex und me because ve was de bestest sailormen.  Ve vas dere nearly four months ven ve shtart ouid.  De oder men dey vas sore, but dey vanted de old man to bromise to gif dem big money, und ve go for noding.  Ve fix oop de boat und ve kvit.”

Steve went on to describe how they fixed up the boat for the voyage by making guards of canvas about the sides, and an awning which they could raise and lower.  They took a ten-gallon steel oil-drum and made a stove out of it.  They cut it in two at the middle and kept the bottom half.  They then made a place for holding a pot, with pieces of scrap-iron fixed to the side of the drum, so that they could make a fire under the pot without setting fire to the boat.  Then the captain set them to learning to make fire by rubbing sticks, and after many days they learned it.  The manager had a steer killed, and they jerked the meat and loaded up their boat beside with sweet potatoes, taro, white potatoes, five dozen eggs, and twenty gallons of water in their tank, with twenty-five more in a barrel.

Then bidding good-by to everybody who gathered to see them off, they steered for Pitcairn Island.  They soon found that the prevailing wind would not permit them to make that course, and so they laid for Mangareva in 23 south and 134 west, sixteen hundred miles distant.  They had to go from 28 south and 110 west, 5 of latitude and 24 of longitude.  Again they were at the mercy of the sea, but now they had only three men in the boat, and had enough food