The plan was no sooner arranged than acted on. Owen, as fast as his legs could carry him, started along the shore in one direction, and Langton in the other. Sometimes Owen found the sand smooth enough, but at others he came to rough rocks, over which he had to climb. Now and then he saw a light on his left twinkling in the distance, but he passed no human habitation. Again and again, however, he shouted, hoping that some fisherman's boat might be concealed among the rocks. No one came near him, and he concluded that the people had retired for the night to their homes. Often, overcome by fatigue, he felt inclined to stop, but remembering that the lives of his captain and shipmates were at stake, he pushed on, now running at full speed along the sand, and now climbing over the rough ground. At length, greatly to his joy, he saw some lights ahead, they showed that he was approaching the town. "I hope that all the people have not gone to bed. It will be a hard matter to rouse them up," he thought. "The lights show that some are up at all events." At length he got among the houses, or rather huts, for few of the buildings deserved a grander name. Some of the natives came out and stared at him, but he could not make them understand what he wanted. They did not, probably, recognise him as one of the smartly dressed officers who had paid a visit to the sultan in the morning. They saw, however, that he was a stranger. At last one made signs to him that he would show him where a person lived who could understand what he said; so Owen fancied was the meaning of the native's gesticulations. "Yes, quick," answered Owen. The native led the way along several rows of huts, until they reached the door of a building of superior pretensions with a broad verandah overlooking the harbour. Owen at once called out-- "Does any one understand English here? If so, I want their assistance without delay. I can promise a handsome reward to all who give it." "Come in, come in," said a voice in a foreign accent. A native appeared at the door with a light in his hand. "Mynheer Van Wijk will see you," said he, as he conducted Owen into a room where a white man was reclining in a hammock, with a huge pipe in his mouth, whom he supposed to be Mynheer Van Wijk, the owner of the mansion. "Vat you want?" exclaimed Mynheer, gazing at Owen, as he stood, shoeless and hatless, in his still damp shirt and trousers. Owen, in as few words as possible, explained who he was, and the accident which had happened. "Donder en bliksem, dat is bad," exclaimed the Dutchman, tumbling out of his hammock and putting on his coat and shoes. "Dare is no time to lose; we must go off at once. And you, young gentleman, want food and clothing. You'll be getting fever if we don't look after you. Mine young son's clothes will fit you; you must put them on."