The Cruise of the Make-Believes

He did not answer in words; he took her hand for a moment, and gripped it; when presently they moved off towards the others he still held that hand as she walked beside him. Only when they came in sight of those who waited for them did he drop the hand, and resume his ordinary attitude of walking with his own clasped behind his back.

"It's an island," said Simon Quarle. "We climbed up the rocks, and there's nothing but the sea beyond. Therefore we must make the best of it."

"Someone ought to be appointed to look after the provisions and things generally – a sort of temporary ruler," said Daniel Meggison. "As perhaps the oldest here I'm quite ready to take the post. It requires dignity – and all that sort of thing."

"I think we can leave the question of the provisions to Pringle," said Gilbert, "with the understanding that he is to be careful."

"Certainly, sir; most happy, sir," responded Pringle. "Sparing in all things, sir – and stimulants to be kept for medicinal purposes," he added.

"What the devil's the man winking at me for?" demanded Daniel Meggison fiercely as he turned away.

As the morning advanced the day grew very hot. There was no protection from the sun whatever on that side of the island, and it was presently arranged that one of the spare sails in the boat should be rigged up to form a species of shelter. There the women sat – a little removed from each other, so far as the Ewart-Cranes and Mrs. Stocker were concerned – and dozed at intervals; Bessie seemed to take her place naturally enough with Simon Quarle and Gilbert in the actual work that lay before them if they were to make any attempt to live at all.

Curiously enough, perhaps the most active of them all was that meek little man, Edward Stocker. Relieved for the first time in his married life from the thraldom of Mrs. Stocker, he was like a boy playing some great game; he entered into it with the zest of a child. He it was who, setting out to make some further exploration of the island, and being lost for an hour or so, was presently observed racing towards them with wildly waving arms, shouting something wholly unintelligible as he ran. Mr. Daniel Meggison seeing him, promptly got behind Simon Quarle, interposing that gentleman between himself and coming danger.

"He is pursued by some terrible beast – and we have no weapons!" he shrieked.

However, as Mr. Stocker drew nearer it was observed that his face was beaming with genuine pleasure, and that he was evidently very greatly excited. He bounded into their midst, and announced his great discovery.

"I say – gentlemen – everybody – I've found a building!"

"A building?" they echoed, staring at him.

"Up there – beyond that long hill you can see," panted Mr. Stocker, pointing. "It seems like a big sort of hut – but I didn't care to go in. Rather dilapidated – but unmistakably a hut."

"It is pretty obvious that someone has lived here before," said Jordan Tant. "More than that, it's not improbable that someone is living here now. Somebody had better go and look at the place," he added. "I'll stay here in case the ladies get alarmed."

Mr. Daniel Meggison also deciding to remain for the same gallant purpose, the rest of the party tramped off northwards, guided by Mr. Stocker, who was obviously not a little proud of himself. Skirting the foot of the low hills that seemed to lie in the very centre of the island, they presently came to a large hut, almost obscured by a tangle of trees and bushes, but in fairly good condition. After some little hesitation they ventured to thrust open the crazy door, and to peer inside; by the light which came streaming through an aperture near the roof they saw that the place was empty, and noticed with further satisfaction that it was dry and fairly clean. Whatever hermit had once inhabited it had long since departed, leaving behind him but few traces of his occupancy.

A few rough boards had been nailed together in one corner to form a sort of bed; and on this some old brushwood still lay. An empty barrel, with nothing upon it to indicate what it had once contained or from whence it had come, stood in one corner; and on a heavy flat stone just under the aperture in the wall stood an old battered cooking-pot, quite sound, and with the ashes of some ancient fire still surrounding it. The place had a ghostly look, even on that bright sunshiny day; but it was better than nothing.

"With a touch here and there, sir, this place could be made a palace," said Pringle. "It's a good sizeable place too; a bit primitive, perhaps, sir, but none the worse for that. At any rate we could get it ready for the ladies, sir, against to-night."

"Is it bein' suggested that the gentlemen of the party sleep in the open air?" asked Aubrey. "I've nothin' to say against it for myself, mind you – but I've not been used to it, and I don't quite see why it should be necessary, even under special circumstances. Of course I wouldn't wish – "

"The ladies will sleep here to-night," said Gilbert. He turned to Bessie, who had accompanied the party. "Do you think the ladies will object?" he asked.

"I don't know," she responded, with a half-smile, "but I should think they'd be glad. Don't you think, Mr. Byfield, that things are turning out rather well?"

"Splendidly!" he exclaimed, glad of that friendly word from her. "But I wonder who can have lived in this place – and lived alone; or so it seems, at least. Whoever it was must have been taken off, I suppose, by some passing vessel; but how many years ago – or under what circumstances – it's impossible to say."

"Whoever it was, we certainly hope and trust he was a gentleman," said Aubrey, as he moved away. "My word," he added from a safe distance, "if it wasn't for my sister I might have somethin' to say about this that would astonish people!"

That great discovery was duly communicated to the ladies; Mrs. Stocker, who had had visions of sleeping in the open air, guarded by Mr. Stocker, heaved a sigh of relief at the prospect of shelter. Mrs. Ewart-Crane, on the other hand, took Jordan Tant aside to speak of a vital matter.

"Island or no island, it is of course distinctly understood that I do not share the same sleeping accommodation with the Stocker woman, or with this girl. Kindly arrange that some other hut is discovered, or at all events that the present one be divided into two parts."

"Doesn't it strike you, ma, that we're rather lucky to get any place to sleep in at all – and that the girl, at any rate, isn't half a bad sort?" asked Enid good-naturedly.

"Silence, Enid; you do not seem to understand that certain social distinctions must be observed, even in such a place as this. In London I should not know the Stocker woman; why should I know her here? The island is large, I am informed; let her discover some other place for herself."

Even in that crisis the wonderful Pringle proved equal to the emergency. It being mentioned by Jordan Tant to Gilbert that there was a difficulty as to the sharing of that limited accommodation designed for the ladies, Gilbert in despair summoned his henchman; and Pringle smiled and suggested a way out.

"It's always the way with the ladies, sir – bless 'em!" he replied cheerfully. "My poor old mother never could get on with the next-door neighbour, sir – no matter whether we lived in a small and humble way – or whether we was in what you might call the mansions of the great; mother being a caretaker, sir, and rather a good caretaker at that. Of course it isn't to be expected that a lady of the stiffness of Mrs. Crane should wish to lay herself down in the presence of people she doesn't really know; so I'll rig a sail up, sir, across the middle, and they can toss for sides if they can't decide any other way, sir. Leave it to me, sir; if you'll excuse the liberty, sir, I may say I know their little failings – an' I know just how to humour them, sir."

So the sail was rigged up, and Mrs. Stocker and Bessie took possession of one side of the hut, while Mrs. Ewart-Crane and Enid occupied the other. Pringle had collected brushwood and dried grasses, and had made two very respectable beds; the moon, when it came to the hour for retiring, was fine and fair above them, and the night was warm.

But before that there had come another great surprise, in the form of an impromptu supper. Certain provisions had been served out during the day, in a promiscuous fashion, by Pringle; but now, when everyone was gathered about the hut, the final preparations were being made, and "good nights" being said, Pringle appeared with something of a flickering smile about his face, and made a startling announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen – supper is served!"

"Look here, my man – a joke is a joke – but pray remember your place, and don't carry a joke too far," said Daniel Meggison sternly. "Remember who you are – and take yourself off."

"This way, if you please, sir," said Pringle, taking not the faintest notice of Daniel Meggison. "Not far, sir – just round the corner, as you might say."

He led the way, and the others followed wonderingly. Presently they came to a little clearing, sheltered by the hill that rose behind it; and in that clearing was a fire upon the ground, and over the fire was propped the old cooking-pot that had been discovered in the hut. Bessie was bending over the cooking-pot, and from it there wafted to the hungry little company an appetizing odour.

"By Jove! – this is capital," exclaimed Gilbert. "We can sit round here in gipsy fashion, and enjoy it. Pringle – this is really clever of you."

"I see no necessity for my daughter to be occupied in a menial office," said Mr. Daniel Meggison stiffly. "After all, there are certain decencies to be observed, even in this place."

"Not me, sir – nothing to do with me, sir," said Pringle, answering Gilbert Byfield. "I certainly did gather the sticks for the fire – but that's about all, sir. The cooking idea wasn't mine at all; I doubt if I could have done it. Miss Meggison, sir, is the lady who's saved our lives, as you might say, sir, to-night."

"It is certainly well to be experienced in these matters," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane, lowering herself to the ground.

"It was quite easy," said Bessie, busying herself with the pot. "When Pringle and I came to look into things, we found that there were preserved meats and preserved vegetables; so it seemed to me that we might have a sort of stew. It's a little mixed – but I think it's nice. Pringle – the plates, please."

"Certainly, Miss," responded Pringle, and instantly produced, as if from the result of a conjuring trick, half a dozen battered old tin plates.

"This is wonderful – and most comfortable," said Mr. Edward Stocker.

"They took a bit of cleanin', sir," explained Pringle. "I found 'em under some of the rubbish in the hut – likewise a knife and fork and a big spoon. The big spoon's in the pot – and the knife and fork I suppose ought to be handed to one of the ladies."

"I have never eaten with my fingers yet – not even in the matter of asparagus," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane instantly.

"Then it's no use your makin' a start at this time of day – is it, ma'am?" responded Pringle, handing over the knife and fork to her with much politeness. "It's a three-pronger, ma'am – but still a fork's a fork."

The steaming food was handed out – Pringle deftly holding the battered tin plates to be filled. The little company was so ravenously hungry that even with that limited number of plates there was not much waiting, nor did it seem to be considered necessary that the plates should be washed for a newcomer. Mrs. Ewart-Crane ate with some elegance, and in a grim silence; the others used their fingers, and laughed a little among themselves at the strange meal. Then, when it was all over, and Pringle had collected the plates, and had taken away the cooking-pot, the men gathered about the fire – or what was left of it – and sat there on the ground, sharing what tobacco they had, contentedly enough. Mr. Tant did not smoke; he sat in a glum silence, staring into the dying fire.

Gradually the fire burnt itself out; but by that time the men had made their several arrangements for sleep. Mr. Tant and Daniel Meggison and Simon Quarle lay down near the hut in a sheltered place, and seemed to fall asleep in a few minutes; Gilbert and Stocker and Aubrey remained by the fire. Presently they too stretched themselves for slumber; at the last, Gilbert Byfield, hearing the murmur of the waves in the distance, thought sleepily how strange it was that he should have been brought to this place, and in such company; wondered, without any real uneasiness, what was to become of them all. A figure stealing towards him in the darkness roused him; and he raised himself on one elbow, to find Pringle bending respectfully over him.

"Anything I can do for you, sir?" asked Pringle, in a whisper.

"Nothing, thank you. Good night."

"Good night to you, sir," responded Pringle. "If I might take the liberty of laying myself down, sir, near to you – "

"By all means," said Gilbert.

"Much obliged, sir," said Pringle, dropping to the ground. "I just gave a last look at the hut as I came past – and everything seemed very quiet. A snore or two, sir – but that only suggests peace. Good night, sir!"