In Strange Company by Guy Boothby

As I splashed my way ashore, I could not help a feeling of wonderment as to whether the whole circumstances preceding and attending our arrival at the island were not part of some horrible dream, from which I should presently awaken. In fact, my whole existence, from the day I left the _Beretania_ at Port Adelaide up to the moment of my setting foot upon these sands, appeared almost too strange to be possible. With the dwelling of my mind upon the subject, all the events which had accompanied my chequered career rose before me like sheeted phantoms of a dead past.

They embraced even my monotonous employment in the ship-chandler's office, my experience on the gold-fields, and my starvation and illness at Broken Hill; took in my life as a fireman, as a station store-keeper, as cook on a cattle camp, as a loafer in Brisbane, and a pearler in Torres Straits; included my love for Juanita, my introduction to the Albino, our voyage to the island, the hoax, my betrayal in Batavia, and my meeting with and participation in the escape of Veneda; his accident, and finally our arrival at the place where I now stood.