Acting under his advice, the bodies of the dead were thrown into the lagoon, the wounded were collected in the hut to be attended to by the ship’s surgeon, and the prisoners were paraded in front of Mir Jan, who identified every man, and found, by counting heads, that none was missing.

Robert did not forget to write out a formal notice and fasten it to the rock.  This proceeding further mystified the officers of the Orient, who had gradually formed a connected idea of the great fight made by the shipwrecked pair, though Anstruther squirmed inwardly when he thought of the manner in which Iris would picture the scene.  As it was, he had the first innings, and he did not fail to use the opportunity.  In the few terse words which the militant Briton best understands, he described the girl’s fortitude, her unflagging cheerfulness, her uncomplaining readiness to do and dare.

Little was said by his auditors, save to interpolate an occasional question as to why such and such a thing was necessary, or how some particular drawback had been surmounted.  Standing near the well, it was not necessary to move to explain to them the chief features of the island, and point out the measures he had adopted.

When he ended, the first lieutenant, who commanded the boats sent in pursuit of the flying Dyaks—­the Orient sank both sampans as soon as they were launched—­summed up the general verdict—­

“You do not need our admiration, Captain Anstruther.  Each man of us envies you from the bottom of his soul.”

“I do, I know—­from the very bilge,” exclaimed a stout midshipman, one of those who had seen Iris.

Robert waited until the laugh died away.

“There is an error about my rank,” he said.  “I did once hold a commission in the Indian army, but I was court-marshaled and cashiered in Hong Kong six months ago.  I was unjustly convicted on a grave charge, and I hope some day to clear myself.  Meanwhile I am a mere civilian.  It was only Miss Deane’s generous sympathy which led her to mention my former rank, Mr. Playdon.”

Had another of the Orient’s 12-pounder shells suddenly burst in the midst of the group of officers, it would have created less dismay than this unexpected avowal.  Court-martialed!  Cashiered!  None but a service man can grasp the awful significance of those words to the commissioned ranks of the army and navy.

Anstruther well knew what he was doing.  Somehow, he found nothing hard in the performance of these penances now.  Of course, the ugly truth must be revealed the moment Lord Ventnor heard his name.  It was not fair to the good fellows crowding around him, and offering every attention that the frank hospitality of the British sailor could suggest, to permit them to adopt the tone of friendly equality which rigid discipline, if nothing else, would not allow them to maintain.

The first lieutenant, by reason of his rank, was compelled to say something—­