eaman on board the ship, which belonged to Dordrecht. I joined the
ship at Batavia, _but I do not know the name of the ship or the name of
the captain_.' Being shown, however, the official list of Dutch East
Indiamen, he pointed to one built in 1854, the 'Kosmopoliet,' Captain
Koenig. He then told his story of the disaster, which there was no one to
contradict, and the jury returned a verdict of 'Accidentally drowned.'
The Greek made his bow and left the neighbourhood.

[Illustration: MR. AND MRS. QUILLER COUCH]

Just after the inquest Mr. Broad, Dutch Consul at Falmouth, arrived,
bringing with him the captains of two Dutch East Indiamen then lying at
Falmouth. One of them asked at once 'Is it Klaas Lammerts's?' Being told
that the 'Kosmopoliet' was the name of the wrecked ship, he said, 'I
don't believe it. The "Kosmopoliet" wouldn't be due for a fortnight,
almost. It must be Klaas Lammerts's vessel.' The vicar, who had now come
up, showed a scrap of flannel he had picked up, with '6. K. L.' marked
upon it. 'Ah!' said the Dutchman, 'it must be so. It _must_ be the
"Jonkheer."' But she had been returned 'Kosmopoliet' at the inquest, so
there the matter rested.

'On the Friday following, however,' pursues the vicar, 'when Mr. Broad
and this Dutch captain again visited Mullyon, the first thing handed
them was a parchment which had been picked up meanwhile, and this was
none other than the masonic diploma of Klaas van Lammerts. Here, then,
was no room for doubt. The ship was identified as the "Jonkheer Meester
van de Wall van Puttershoek," Captain Klaas van Lammerts, 650 tons
register, homeward bound from the East Indies, with a cargo of sugar,
coffee, spices, and some Banca tin. The value of the ship and cargo
would be between 40,000_l._ and 50,000_l._' It may be added that on the
afternoon before the wreck, the vessel had been seen to miss stays more
than once in her endeavour to beat off the land, and generally to behave
as if handled by an unaccountably clumsy crew. Altogether, folks on
shore had grave suspicions that there was mutiny or extreme disorder of
some kind on board; but of this nothing was ever certainly known.

I think this narrative was no sooner read than digested into the scheme
of my romance, now for some months neglected and almost forgotten. But
the Final School of Literae Humaniores loomed unpleasantly near, and just
a year passed before I could turn my discovery to account. The following
August f