“Ah, well,” sighed the shipowner, “the few timbers you have shown me here are the remaining assets out of L300,000.”

“Was she not insured?” inquired Robert.

“No; that is, I have recently adopted a scheme of mutual self-insurance, and the loss falls pro rata on my other vessels.”

The baronet glanced covertly at Iris.  The words conveyed little meaning to her.  Indeed, she broke in with a laugh—­

“I am afraid I have heard you say, father dear, that some ships in the fleet paid you best when they ran ashore.”

“Yes, Iris.  That often happened in the old days.  It is different now.  Moreover, I have not told you the extent of my calamities.  The Sirdar was lost on March 18, though I did not know it for certain until this morning.  But on March 25 the Bahadur was sunk in the Mersey during a fog, and three days later the Jemadar turned turtle on the James and Mary shoal in the Hooghly.  Happily there were no lives lost in either of these cases.”

Even Iris was appalled by this list of casualties.

“My poor, dear dad!” she cried.  “To think that all these troubles should occur the very moment I left you!”

Yet she gave no thought to the serious financial effect of such a string of catastrophes.  Robert, of course, appreciated this side of the business, especially in view of the shipowner’s remark about the insurance.  But Sir Arthur Deane’s stiff upper lip deceived him.  He failed to realize that the father was acting a part for his daughter’s sake.

Oddly enough, the baronet did not seek to discuss with them the legal-looking document affixed near the cave.  It claimed all rights in the island in their joint names, and this was a topic he wished to avoid.  For the time, therefore, the younger man had no opportunity of taking him into his confidence, and Iris held faithfully to her promise of silence.

The girl’s ragged raiment, sou’wester, and strong boots were already packed away on board.  She now rescued the Bible, the copy of Tennyson’s poems, the battered tin cup, her revolver, and the Lee-Metford which “scared” the Dyaks when they nearly caught Anstruther and Mir Jan napping.  Robert also gathered for her an assortment of Dyak hats, belts, and arms, including Taung S’Ali’s parang and a sumpitan.  These were her trophies, the spolia opima of the campaign.

His concluding act was to pack two of the empty oil tins with all the valuable lumps of auriferous quartz he could find where he shot the rubbish from the cave beneath the trees.  On top of these he placed some antimony ore, and Mir Jan, wondering why the sahib wanted the stuff, carried the consignment to the waiting boat.  Lieutenant Playdon, in command of the last party of sailors to quit the island, evidently expected Mir Jan to accompany them, but Anstruther explained that the man would await his return, some time in June or July.