“Fortunes are made, and fortunes are swallowed up too, by the ocean,” replied the captain.  “If I could turn this good ship into a good house, with plenty of guilders to keep the house warm, you would not find me standing on this poop.  I have doubled the Cape twice, which is often enough for any man; the third time may not be so lucky.”

“Is it so dangerous, then?” said Philip.

“As dangerous as tides and currents, rocks and sand-banks, hard gales and heavy seas, can make it,—­no more!  Even when you anchor in the bay, on this side of the Cape, you ride in fear and trembling, for you may be blown away from your anchor to sea, or be driven on shore among the savages, before the men can well put on their clothing.  But when once you’re well on the other side of the Cape, then the water dances to the beams of the sun as if it were merry, and you may sail for weeks with a cloudless sky and a flowing breeze, without starting tack or sheet, or having to take your pipe out of your mouth.”

“What port shall we go into, Mynheer?”

“Of that I can say but little.  Gambroon, in the Gulf of Persia, will probably be the first rendezvous of the whole fleet.  Then we shall separate:  some will sail direct for Bantam, in the island of Java; others will have orders to trade down the Straits for camphor, gum, benzoin, and wax; they have also gold and the teeth of the elephant to barter with us:  there (should we be sent thither) you must be careful with the natives, Mynheer Vanderdecken.  They are fierce and treacherous, and their curved knives (or creeses, as they, call them) are sharp and deadly poisoned.  I have had hard fighting in those Straits both with Portuguese and English.”

“But we are all at peace now.”

“True, my son; but when round the Cape, we must not trust to papers signed at home:  and the English press us hard, and tread upon our heels wherever we go.  They must be checked; and I suspect our fleet is so large and well appointed in expectation of hostilities.”

“How long do you expect your voyage may occupy us?”

“That’s as may be:  but I should say about two years;—­nay, if not detained by the factors, as I expect we shall be, for some hostile service, it may be less.”

Two years, thought Philip, two years from Amine! and he sighed deeply, for he felt that their separation might be for ever.

“Nay, my son, two years is not so long,” said Mynheer Kloots, who observed the passing cloud on Philip’s brow.  “I was once five years away, and was unfortunate, for I brought home nothing, not even my ship.  I was sent to Chittagong, on the east side of the great Bay of Bengala, and lay for three months in the river.  The chiefs of the country would detain me by force; they would not barter for my cargo, or permit me to seek another market.  My powder had been landed, and I could make no resistance.  The worms ate through the bottom of my vessel, and she sank at her anchors.