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Updated: May 25, 2025
But the bird-faced officer was already rubbing shoulders with certain inert matter that had once been Lieutenant Kurt and the Chinese aeronaut and a dead cow, and much other uncongenial company, in the huge circle of the Whirlpool two and a quarter miles away.
He looked an inferior, though by no means an easy inferior, and instinctively they hated him. The Prince pointed to the flying-machine and said something in broken English that Bert took for German and failed to understand. He intimated as much. "Dummer Kerl!" said the bird-faced officer from among his bandages. The Prince pointed again with his undamaged hand. "You verstehen dis drachenflieger?"
Then they made it evident that they proposed that he, as a common person below the rank of officer should have the sole and undivided privilege of disposing of the body by dragging it to the water's edge. There was some heated gesticulation, and at last the bird-faced officer abased himself to help.
He was the Prince Karl Albert, the War Lord, the "German Alexander," and the man behind him was the bird-faced man whose cabin had once been taken from him and given to Bert. With that apparition began a new phase of Goat Island in Bert's experience.
At first the plump newspaper man believed that the surging, shouting wave of humanity which had broken comber-like over the ropes to hail a newer favorite had separated the little, bird-faced man from him. Only a recollection of those vice-like fingers clinging to his arm a moment before made that probability seem unbelievable.
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