I described the affair in detail, and with what humour I could. Our
host was amused, and apologetic for the islanders.

'They're excellent folk,' he said, 'but they're born with predatory
instincts. Their fathers made their living out of wrecks on this
coast, and the children inherit a weakness for plunder. When
Wangeroog lighthouse was built they petitioned the Government for
compensation, in perfect good faith. The coast is well lighted now,
and windfalls are rare, but the sight of a stranded yacht, with the
owners ashore, would inflame the old passion; and, depend upon it,
someone has seen that anchor-buoy.'

The word 'wrecks' had set me tingling. Was it another test?
Impossible to say; but audacity was safer than reserve, and might
save trouble in the future.

'Isn't there the wreck of a treasure-ship somewhere farther west?' I
asked. 'We heard of it at Wangeroog' (my first inaccuracy). 'They
said a company was exploiting it.'

'Quite right,' said the commander, without a sign of embarrassment.
'I don't wonder you heard of it. It's one of the few things folk have
to talk about in these parts. It lies on Juister Riff, a shoal off
Juist. _[see Map B]_ She was a French frigate, the Corinne, bound
from Hamburg to Havre in 1811, when Napoleon held Hamburg as tight as
Paris. She carried a million and a half in gold bars, and was insured
in Hamburg; foundered in four fathoms, broke up, and there lies the
treasure.'