Philip’s arguments were of no avail.  The Admiral ordered him to return on board his ship, and had he been able to find an excuse, he would have deprived him of his command.  This he could not well do; but Philip was aware that the Admiral was now his inveterate enemy.  The Commodore was taken out of irons and brought into the cabin, and his sentence was made known to him.

“Be it so, Admiral,” replied Avenhorn; “for, to attempt to turn you from your purpose, I know would be unavailing.  I am not punished for disobedience of orders, but for having, by my disobedience, pointed out to you your duty—­a duty which you were forced to perform afterwards by necessity.  Then be it so; let me perish on these black rocks, as I shall, and my bones be whitened by the chilly blasts which howl over their desolation.  But mark me, cruel and vindictive man!  I shall not be the only one whose bones will bleach there.  I prophesy that many others will share my fate, and even you, Admiral, may be of the number,—­if I mistake not, we shall lie side by side.”

The Admiral made no reply, but gave a sign for the prisoner to be removed.  He then had a conference with the captains of the three smaller vessels; and, as they had been all along retarded by the heavier sailing of his own ship and the Dort commanded by Philip, he decided that they should part company, and proceed on as fast as they could to the Indies—­sending on board of the two larger vessels all the provisions they could spare, as they already began to run short.

Philip had left the cabin with Krantz after the prisoner had been removed.  He then wrote a few lines upon a slip of paper—­“Do not leave the beach when you are put on shore, until the vessels are out of sight;” and, requesting Krantz to find an opportunity to deliver this to the Commodore, he returned on board of his own ship.

When the crew of the Dort heard of the punishment about to be inflicted upon their old Commander, they were much excited.  They felt that he had sacrificed himself to save them, and they murmured much at the cruelty of the Admiral.

About an hour after Philip’s return to his ship, the prisoner was sent on shore and landed on the desolate and rocky coast, with a supply of provisions for two days.  Not a single article of extra clothing, or the means of striking a light was permitted him.  When the boat’s keel grazed the beach, he was ordered out.  The boat shoved off, and the men were not permitted even to bid him farewell.

The fleet, as Philip expected, remained hove-to, shifting the provisions, and it was not till after dark that everything was arranged.  This opportunity was not lost.  Philip was aware that it would be considered a breach of discipline, but to that he was indifferent; neither did he think it likely that it would come to the ears of the Admiral, as the crew of the Dort were partial both to the Commodore and to him.