“The facts are obvious, Miss Deane.  The loss of the Sirdar will not be definitely known for many days.  It will be assumed that she has broken down.  The agents in Singapore will await cabled tidings of her whereabouts.  She might have drifted anywhere in that typhoon.  Ultimately they will send out a vessel to search, impelled to that course a little earlier by your father’s anxiety.  Pardon me.  I did not intend to pain you.  I am speaking my mind.”

“Go on,” said Iris bravely.

“The relief ship must search the entire China Sea.  The gale might have driven a disabled steamer north, south, east or west.  A typhoon travels in a whirling spiral, you see, and the direction of a drifting ship depends wholly upon the locality where she sustained damage.  The coasts of China, Java, Borneo, and the Philippines are not equipped with lighthouses on every headland and cordoned with telegraph wires.  There are river pirates and savage races to be reckoned with.  Casting aside all other possibilities, and assuming that a prompt search is made to the south of our course, this part of the ocean is full of reefs and small islands, some inhabited permanently, others visited occasionally by fishermen.”  He was about to add something, but checked himself.

“To sum up,” he continued hurriedly, “we may have to remain here for many days, even months.  There is always a chance of speedy help.  We must act, however, on the basis of detention for an indefinite period.  I am discussing appearances as they are.  A survey of the island may change all these views.”

“In what way?”

He turned and pointed to the summit of the tree-covered hill behind them.

“From that point,” he said, “we may see other and larger islands.  If so, they will certainly be inhabited.  I am surprised this one is not.”

He ended abruptly.  They were losing time.  Before Iris could join him he was already hauling a large undamaged case out of the water.

He laughed unmirthfully.  “Champagne!” he said, “A good brand, too!”

This man was certainly an enigma.  Iris wrinkled her pretty forehead in the effort to place him in a fitting category.  His words and accent were those of an educated gentleman, yet his actions and manners were studiously uncouth when he thought she was observing him.  The veneer of roughness puzzled her.  That he was naturally of refined temperament she knew quite well, not alone by perception but by the plain evidence of his earlier dealings with her.  Then why this affectation of coarseness, this borrowed aroma of the steward’s mess and the forecastle?

To the best of her ability she silently helped in the work of salvage.  They made a queer collection.  A case of champagne, and another of brandy.  A box of books.  A pair of night glasses.  A compass.  Several boxes of ship’s biscuits, coated with salt, but saved by their hardness, having been immersed but a few seconds.  Two large cases of hams in equally good condition.  Some huge dish-covers.  A bit of twisted ironwork, and a great quantity of cordage and timber.