“Indeed!  Krantz?”

“Indeed, yes; but of that hereafter:  the night is closing in, we must again put our little bark in safety for the night, and there is a cove which I think appears suited for the purpose.”

Before morning, a strong breeze right on shore had sprung up, and the surf became so high as to endanger the raft; to continue their course was impossible; they could only haul up their raft to prevent its being dashed to pieces by the force of the waves, as the seas broke on the shore.  Philip’s thoughts were, as usual, upon Amine, and as he watched the tossing waters, as the sunbeams lightened up their crests, he exclaimed, “Ocean! hast thou my Amine?  If so, give up thy dead!  What is that?” continued he, pointing to a speck on the horizon.

“The sail of a small craft of some description or another,” replied Krantz; “and apparently coming down before the wind to shelter herself in the very nook we have selected.”

“You are right; it is the sail of a vessel, of one of those peroquas which skim over these seas—­how she rises on the swell!—­she is full of men, apparently.”

The peroqua rapidly approached, and was soon close to the beach; the sail was lowered, and she was backed in through the surf.

“Resistance is useless should they prove enemies,” observed Philip.  “We shall soon know our fate.”

The people in the peroqua took no notice of them, until the craft had been hauled up and secured; three of them then advanced towards Philip and Krantz, with spears in their hands, but evidently with no hostile intentions.  One addressed them in Portuguese, asking them who they were?

“We are Hollanders,” replied Philip.

“A part of the crew of the vessel which was wrecked?” inquired he.

“Yes!”

“You have nothing to fear—­you are enemies to the Portuguese, and so are we.  We belong to the island of Ternate—­our king is at war with the Portuguese, who are villains.  Where are your companions? on which island?”

“They are all dead,” replied Philip; “may I ask you whether you have fallen in with a woman, who was adrift on a part of the raft by herself? or have you heard of her?”

“We have heard that a woman was picked up on the beach to the southward, and carried away by the Tidore people to the Portuguese settlement, on the supposition that she was a Portuguese.”

“Then God be thanked, she is saved,” cried Philip.  “Merciful Heaven! accept my thanks.—­To Tidore you said?”

“Yes; we are at war with the Portuguese, we cannot take you there.”

“No! but we shall meet again.”

The person who accosted them was evidently of some consequence.  His dress was, to a certain degree, Mahometan, but mixed up with Malay—­he carried arms in his girdle and a spear in his hand; his turban was of printed chintz; and his deportment, like most persons of rank in that country, was courteous and dignified.