bulk of their sustenance. Thus refreshed, they set out
once more after the leader who wandered aimlessly
beneath the shade of the tall jungle trees amidst
the gorgeous tropic blooms and gay, songless birds--
and of the twelve only the leader saw the beauties
that surrounded them or felt the strange, mysterious
influence of the untracked world they trod. Chance
took them toward the west until presently they emerged
upon the harbor's edge, where from the matted jungle
they overlooked for the first time the waters of the
little bay and the broader expanse of strait beyond,
until their eyes rested at last upon the blurred lines
of distant Borneo.

From other vantage points at the jungle's border two
other watchers looked out upon the scene. One was the
lascar whom von Horn had sent down to the Ithaca the
night before but who had reached the harbor after she
sailed. The other was von Horn himself. And both were
looking out upon the dismantled wreck of the Ithaca
where it lay in the sand near the harbor's southern edge.

Neither ventured forth from his place of concealment,
for beyond the Ithaca ten prahus were pulling
gracefully into the quiet waters of the basin.

Rajah Muda Saffir, caught by the hurricane the preceding
night as he had been about to beat across to Borneo,
had scurried for shelter within one of the many
tiny coves which indent the island's entire coast.