Thalassa reached them after a terrible journey through the stony veldt and sandy desert, broken by barren hills.
His companion died of the hardships, and was buried in the desert which stretched to the wandering course of the Orange River.

Thalassa secured his license and went "prospecting." "Dost a' know anything about diamonds--digging for them ?" he broke off to ask.
Charles Turold shook his head.
Thalassa lapsed into silence for some moments, his eyes fixed on the sea hissing among the black wet rocks at his feet, then said-- "A man's a fool most of his days, but sometimes he can be such a fool that the memory 'll come up to mock him when he lays dying.

Here was I, deserting my ship and throwing away a year's wages and a'most my life to get to these damned fields, thinking to pick up diamonds cut and glittering like I'd seen them in London shops, when as soon as I'd clapped eyes on the first diamond I saw dug up I knew that I'd left behind me at the other end of the world as many rough diamonds as there was in the whole of that dustbin of a place--diamonds that didn't have to be dug for, either, only I didn't know them when I saw them." His narrowed eye gleamed craftily, a mere pin's point of expression in the direction of Charles, as though expecting a question.

But Charles kept silence, so he went on with his story.

He let it be understood that his luck on the fields was of the worst possible description--never a solitary stone came his way.