The Admiral’s ship still lay aground, and apparently no exertions were used to get her off.  Philip was much puzzled how to act:  leave the crew of the Lion he could not; nor indeed could he refuse, or did he wish to refuse the Admiral, if he proposed coming on board; but he now made up his mind that it should only be as a passenger, and that he would himself retain the command.  At present he contented himself with dropping his anchor outside, clear of the reef, where he was sheltered by a bluff cape, under which the water was smooth, about a mile distant from where the Admiral’s ship lay on shore; and he employed his crew in replenishing his water-casks from a rivulet close to where the ship was anchored.  He waited to see if the other vessel got off, being convinced that if she did not some communication must soon take place.  As soon as the water was complete, he sent one of the boats to the place where the Commodore had been landed, having resolved to take him on board, if they could find him; but the boat returned without having seen anything of him, although the men had clambered over the hills to a considerable distance.

On the second morning after Philip had hauled his vessel off, they observed that the boats of the Admiral’s ship were passing and repassing from the shore, landing her stores and provisions; and the next day, from the tents pitched on shore, it was evident that she was abandoned, although the boats were still employed in taking articles out of her.  That night it blew fresh, and the sea was heavy; the next morning her masts were gone, and she turned on her broadside; she was evidently a wreck, and Philip now consulted with Krantz how to act.  To leave the crew of the Lion on shore was impossible:  they must all perish when the winter set in upon such a desolate coast.  On the whole, it was considered advisable that the first communication should come from the other party, and Philip resolved to remain quietly at anchor.

It was very plain that there was no longer any subordination among the crew of the Lion, who were to be seen, in the day-time, climbing over the rocks in every direction, and at night, when their large fires were lighted, carousing and drinking.  This waste of provisions was a subject of much vexation to Philip.  He had not more than sufficient for his own crew, and he took it for granted that, so soon as what they had taken on shore should be expended, the crew of the Lion would ask to be received on board of the Dort.

For more than a week did affairs continue in this state, when, one morning, a boat was seen pulling towards the ship, and, in the stern-sheets Philip recognised the officer who had been sent on board to put him under arrest.  When the officer came on deck, he took off his hat to Philip.

“You do, then, acknowledge me as in command,” observed Philip.

“Yes, sir, most certainly; you were second in command, but now you are first—­for the Admiral is dead.”