cursor, affected to disbelieve entirely the truth of my account of its loss, swore that I had never been on board the vessel, that I was an impostor, a myth; and prophesied that the ship would soon be heard of, and her log would be a triumphant refutation of all the dismal fables that had been invented concerning her faulty construction and loss.
As some fragments of my story respecting the Colymbians and their ways began to ooze out, probably in a very distorted form, these irritated and discomfited advocates of the Precursor's build, returned to the charge against me, urging that a person who could tell such palpable falsehoods was unworthy of belief on any subject whatever. They went so far as to say that I was not the person I represented myself to be, that I was somebody else altogether, some low adventurer who had succeeded in persuading the parents of De Courcy Smith that he was their lost son; no difficult task, as they were simple rustics who had never abandoned the idea of the restoration of their son, and were consequently in a fit state of mind to credit the plausible tale of any unscrupulous adventurer. They doubted that I had ever been picked up at sea as I alleged; if so, where was Captain Hans Wurst and his ship Der fliegende Holländer? Why could I not produce even one of the crew? As if that were at all necessary to prove my identity. Might not the ship have foundered at sea, been burnt, or been sent to the bottom by an erratic iceberg, after she had landed me at Hobart Town? or might not the trade in which she was engaged have been one that rendered it a matter of prudence and safety for the captain to conceal his movements?
As time went on and nothing was heard of the
