I proposed to board her, pretending I was looking for a friend, and come on shore from her, so that anyone in Lisbon who chose to be curious would think I had landed straight from Portuguese Africa.
I hailed one of the adjacent ruffians, and got into his rowboat, with my kit.

We reached the vessel--they called her the _Henry the Navigator_--just as the first shore-boat was leaving.

The crowd in it were all Portuguese, which suited my book.
But when I went up the ladder the first man I met was old Peter Pienaar.
Here was a piece of sheer monumental luck.

Peter had opened his eyes and his mouth, and had got as far as '_Allemachtig_', when I shut him up.
'Brandt,' I said, 'Cornelis Brandt.

That's my name now, and don't you forget it.