satisfied." But Jensen never accepted the challenge. As the days
passed, I thought the weather showed indications of a change; for
one thing, the aneroid began jumping about in a very uneasy manner.
I called Jensen's attention to the matter, but he was too much
interested in his hunt for black pearls to listen to me.

And now I pass to the fatal day that made me an outcast from
civilisation for so many weary years. Early one morning in July
1864, Jensen went off as usual with the whole of his crew, leaving
me absolutely alone in charge of the ship. The women had often
accompanied the divers on their expeditions, and did so on this
occasion, being rather expert at the work, which they looked upon
as sport.

Whenever I look back upon the events of that dreadful day, I am
filled with astonishment that the captain should have been so mad
as to leave the ship at all. Only an hour before he left, a tidal
wave broke over the stern, and flooded the cabins with a perfect
deluge. Both Jensen and I were down below at the time, and came in
for an awful drenching. This in itself was a clear and ominous
indication of atmospheric disturbance; but all that poor Jensen did
was to have the pumps set to work, and after the cabins were
comparatively dry he proceeded once more to the pearl banks that
fascinated him so, and on which he probably sleeps to this day.
The tide was favourable when he left, and I watched the fleet of
little boats following in the wake of the whale-boat, until they
were some three miles distant from the ship, when they stopped for
preparations to be made for the work of diving. I had no
presentiment whatever of the catastrophe that awaited them and me.