THE CASTAWAYS
THE CASTAWAYS
BY
W. W. JACOBS
McKINLAY, STONE & MACKENZIE
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published January, 1917
Reprinted February, May, 1917
Hn
THE CASTAWAYS
The Castaways
CHAPTER I
MR. WILLIAM POPE closed his ledger
with a slam and, slipping from his stool,
locked the drawer of his desk and re-
turned the key to his pocket. It was just one
o'clock, and there was an ebb and flow of clerks
returning from, and going to, lunch. It had been
an everyday scene to Mr. Pope for thirty years;
he looked forward to another ten and then a
pension, which he fondly hoped to enjoy for thirty
more. He walked slowly across the big room and,
putting his head round a glass and mahogany screen,
eyed with clerkly disapproval the industry of a man
working there.
"One o'clock, Carstairs," he said sharply.
Mr. Carstairs turned a lean, clean-shaven face
on his friend and smiled amiably.
"Just coming," he said, blotting his work. "I
had no idea it was so late."
Mr. Pope grunted. "I should know it in the
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dark," he declared, "without a watch. I believe
you like work, Carstairs."
The other shook his head. "Just a habit," he
said slowly. "There's not much to like about it.
Come along, before you faint."
He led the way out of the bank into the crowded,
sunlit street, and, seizing an opportunity, darted
across the road. Mr. Pope, with a finer sense of
his dignity, waited until the traffic was held up, and
crossed ponderously.
"One of these days " he began.
"I know," said his friend, "but I feel like a boy
to-day. Twenty-five years dropped from my shoul-
ders this morning and left me a boy of twenty."
"Pity the grey hairs didn't drop too," remarked
Mr. Pope.
"One thing at a time," said the other. "And,
after all, I haven't got many."
He stopped at the entrance to the Beech Tree,
and, pushing through the swing-doors, led the way
up to the dining-room, and to the end table they
usually occupied. Mr. Pope seated himself with
a sigh of content, and, placing a pair of gold-rimmed
pince-nez across his nose, studied the menu.
"Plate of mulligatawny," he said slowly, "boiled
silverside, tankard of bitter."
He ate his meal with enjoyment, and then, light-
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ing a cigar and ordering coffee, disposed himself
for conversation. Carstairs, who had eaten but
little, answered in such an abstracted fashion that
Mr. Pope, in a fit of pique, closed his mouth with
his cigar and lapsed into silence.
"I'm sorry," said Carstairs, turning, with a slight
laugh. "I was thinking."
"Think away," said his friend coldly.
"Thinking of the many times I have eaten in
this place," said Carstairs. "Day after day, year
after year. It has all passed like a dream."
"Best way for a lunch to pass," said Pope, with
feeling. "If you had poor Hall's digestion "
"I mean the whole thing," said Carstairs. "The
morning train, the day's work. For twenty-five
years, rain or shine, I have been shut up in that
office taking care of other people's money. Now
I am my own master. I can stay in bed all day,
or go to the North Pole if I like."
Mr. Pope took his cigar from his mouth and
regarded him thoughtfully. "You had better stay
in bed all day," he said at length. "Or perhaps
two or three days would be better."
"This is my last day at the office," said Car-
stairs. "I can hardly realise it."
"Don't try to," said Pope anxiously.
"To-morrow morning I shall go birds'-nesting."
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"What in October?" stammered the unhappy
Pope.
"Or a motor run," said Carstairs, hiding a smile.
"If it's a day like this it will be splendid. I'll ask
for a day's leave for you. I bought a ripping car
yesterday."
Mr. Pope stifled a groan. "We had better be
getting back," he said, rising.
"Back!" said the other. "Why, we have got
twenty-five minutes yet. Sit down and discuss where
we shall go. You needn't be alarmed; I am not
going to drive. What do you say to Brighton?
Run down to lunch, spend a couple of hours by
the sparkling sea, and then home to dinner and
a theatre."
Mr. Pope turned and looked long and hard at
his friend. "Look here, Carstairs," he said at
last, "do you know what you are talking about?"
"About a motor run," said the other.
"In your own car?" pursued Pope.
Carstairs nodded.
"Where did you get it?"
"Bought it."
Mr. Pope sighed, but pursued his cross-examina-
tion. "How much?"
"Nine hundred and twenty-five pounds," was the
reply.
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There was a long pause, during which Mr. Pope
tried hard to get his voice under control.
"Where did you get the money?" he asked at
last, in fairly even tones.
"Ah, now you're getting to business," said Car-
stairs, smiling broadly. "It was left to me by an
uncle I haven't seen since I was ten. He went to
Australia sheep-shearing. Judging by the amount
I'm rather afraid he must have been shearing his
fellow men as well."
Pope, still looking doubtful, cleared his throat.
"Much?" he inquired.
Carstairs nodded. "I'm afraid to tell you the
amount," he said quietly. "You might ask me to
go and see a doctor."
"How much?" demanded the other.
"Or fall off your chair."
"How much?" repeated the other severely.
"We don't know exactly," said Carstairs, rum-
bling in his pocket, "but in this letter from my
lawyers they say about thirty thousand a year."
Conversation in the room was suspended until
the echoes of Mr. Pope's exclamation had died
away. With a trembling hand he took the letter
and read it, and then for the first time in many
years he had a glass of water with his lunch.
After which he congratulated Mr. Carstairs.
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"But you've known this some time," he said re-
proachfully.
"About three weeks," said Carstairs. "But I
wanted to be absolutely certain before I said any-
thing about it."
"What are you going to do with it all?" de-
manded the amazed Pope.
Carstairs pretended to consider. "I shall keep
a few fowls, I think," he said at last, "and the
motor."
Mr. Pope shook his head gloomily. "It'll be
thrown away on you," he said. "You never have
had any idea of real enjoyment. You'd have been
much better off if the old man had left you five
hundred a year. You've got simple tastes."
"Simple things cost the most, I believe," said
Carstairs. "My car doesn't make nearly such an
important noise as a second-hand one at fifty pounds.
A ten-guinea suit of clothes escapes observation,
whereas one at twenty-five shillings attracts atten-
tion wherever it goes."
Mr. Pope, who was not listening, raised his finger
for the waiter. "Two glasses of the best and oldest
port you've got. I want to see what it feels like
to stand treat to a man with thirty thousand a
year," he said, after the waiter had departed.
"You'll drop all your old friends now."
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"Of course," said Carstairs simply. "I shall
begin with you after I have drunk the port."
Mr. Pope clinked glasses, and then with a gentle
sigh sipped his wine.
"You'll have to be careful," he said, after a
long silence. "There are heaps of people who will
be anxious to help you spend that money. You're
too easy-going by half to be trusted with it. I can
see you investing it in all sorts of wild-cat schemes,
not because you believe in them, but because you
will be unable to say 'No.' '
"Perhaps you're right," said Carstairs.
"I'm certain of it," said his friend vehemently.
"You've got no knowledge of the world, and you
have a trust in human nature that I can only de-
scribe as child-like. I shouldn't be surprised if you
lost everything youVe got in five years."
"I reckoned ten," said Carstairs, "but I dare say
you are nearer the mark. However, I will relieve
your mind by telling you that I am taking measures
to prevent it. I am engaging a man to look after
my affairs, and if I crack up in a few years he will
be responsible. I shall practically leave things in
his hands."
"Leave things in his hands?" gasped the amazed
Pope. "And suppose he lets you down?"
"He won't," said Carstairs.
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The other looked at him with unaffected con-
cern. "Don't do it," he said earnestly. "Don't
do it"
"I must," said Carstairs. "I can't be bothered
with business matters. I might as well stay on at
the bank. It's no use, Pope, I'm quite determined."
"You must be crazy," said Pope at last. "What
do you know about him? How long have you
known him?"
"Long enough to know he is all right," said the
other. "But you know him better than I do."
"I !" said Pope, starting. "I don't know any-
body I'd trust to that extent. Who is it?"
"His name is William Pope," said Carstairs.
Mr. Pope's expression changed suddenly, and
his mouth broke into tremulous smiles. Then his
face began to harden again.
"It's no use," said Carstairs, who had been
watching him closely. "It's a favour to myself.
You've got a very clear head for business, and a
stronger way of dealing with people than I have."
Mr. Pope shook his head.
"And you know what things are better than I
r do," pursued Carstairs. "You can help me to keep
my end up. There's an air about you, Pope, that
I haven't got. I want some of your moral support.
I want you to tell my lies for me, and intervene
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between myself and people who want to help me
spend my money."
"If you put it that way " began the other,
wavering.
"It's the only way to put it," said Carstairs.
"It's a pure matter of business; friendship doesn't
count at all. We'll have a contract drawn up by
my solicitors all shipshape and proper, and then I
shall be able to enjoy my money while you have
all the trouble of it."
Pope turned in his chair and extended his hand.
"That's settled," said Carstairs, "and I'm will-
ing to give you the pleasure again of paying for
a wealthy friend's port to celebrate it."
Mr. Pope held up to the waiter a beckoning finger
that seemed to have increased in size and impor-
tance since the last order. He turned an eye on
a clock that no longer had any message for him,
and, raising his glass, toasted "Our very good
healths."
The return to the office was effected without
hurry. Haste was all very well for men whose
horizon was bounded by streets and the regular
performance of mechanical duties; free men with
the pleasant places of the world before them could
afford to take their time. In front of the very
entrance of the bank, Mr. Pope, pleasantly con-
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scious of being twenty-five minutes late, loitered to
purchase a buttonhole. His appearance was so
dignified that the colleague who had been impa-
tiently awaiting his return in order to go to his
own lunch ventured on no greater reproach than
a sniff.
12
CHAPTER II
THE dislocation caused in a large office by
the retirement of two of its staff is not
great, and any inconvenience occasioned is
amply atoned for by the consequent promotions.
The two clerks left with the good wishes of their
fellows, although there was a little uncertainty
due to the bearing of Mr. Pope as to which of
them was the fortunate legatee.
The secretary entered upon his duties at once.
He had innumerable consultations with the lawyers
(cheerfully acquiesced in by those excellent men
of business), and, with knowledge gleaned from
"Every Man His Own Lawyer," propounded co-
nundrums that took the united intellects of the firm
to solve.
Nor were the lighter branches of his work
neglected. Gently but firmly he made the reluctant
Carstairs renounce the firm of City tailors who had
dressed him for twenty years, and all their works,
and piloted him to a West End house where the
charges were three times as great.
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"To be well dressed is half the battle," he said
severely as he followed Carstairs into a restaurant
to recuperate after their labors. "What about that
little table at the end?"
"That's taken, sir," said the waiter. "The next
one is not engaged."
Mr. Pope frowned, and, after a moment's hesita-
tion, took the proffered chair and began to study
the menu. He made his selection after much ques-
tioning, using his forefinger in preference to the
pitfalls of the French language.
He broke his roll and looked around him with
placid content. The Beech Tree Tavern seemed
to belong to a remote and uncongenial past. His
gaze roved from pretty women and well-groomed
men to the small orchestra in the gallery. He
turned with a smile to see the hors d'cenvres at
his elbow.
The occupant of the reserved table appeared
just as Mr. Pope was toying with a sweetbread:
a tall, well-knit young man of about twenty-five,
who took the chair which backed on to Mr. Pope's
with so much vigour that a piece of sweetbread
changed its destination at the last moment, and,
leaving a well-defined trail down that gentleman's
shirt-front, hid inside his waistcoat.
"Sorry," said the young man, moving his chair
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forward an inch. "They don't leave much room
here."
"Plenty of room for people who know how to
use it," said Pope crisply.
The other smiled amiably and watched with
some interest the efforts of Mr. Pope to find the
missing morsel. His interest increased as the latter,
in a furtive fashion, began to unfasten the buttons
of his waistcoat.
"Surely you're not going to disrobe here, my
good man?" he said, in an unnecessarily distinct
voice. i
Mr. Pope, crimson with rage and confusion,
turned a deaf ear. For some time he went on
with his meal in silence, and then, conversing in.
a low voice with Carstairs, allowed such words as
"wasters," "over-grown schoolboys," "boors," etc.,
to wander as far afield as the next table.
His countenance did not relax until the coffee
and liqueur stage was reached. He lit a large cigar
and, in a moment of forgetfulness, pushed a little
farther from the table and leaned back in his chair.
Contact was made, as the electricians say, and a
strong current of obstinacy passed from Mr. Pope
and rooted the feet of the man at the next table
to the floor. Carstairs, at first amused, became
apprehensive.
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"Don't make a scene," he whispered. "You'll
attract attention in a moment."
"I'm not doing anything," rejoined Pope, in a
hot whisper. "Let him move back to his own
territory."
He thrust his back heavily into his chair, deter-
mined not to budge an inch. The same idea seemed
to possess his adversary, then better feelings pre-
vailed, and with a quiet but sudden movement he
hitched his chair forward at least a foot.
Mr. Pope, by a frantic movement of his arms,
retained his balance, but a loud snapping noise in-
dicated disaster. He turned to see the top of his
chair and half the back dangling to the floor. His
waiter came hastily to the scene of disaster and
the manager made a leisurely progress up the room.
"Another chair, please," said Carstairs quietly.
A fresh chair was fetched, and the manager,
expressing polite regrets for the shortcomings of
the old one, withdrew to his lair to find fault with
the waiter. The cause of the mischief, who had
taken a languid interest in the proceedings over his
right shoulder, lit a fresh cigarette and exchanged
glances with Carstairs.
"Worst of these genuine twentieth-century Chip-
pendale chairs," he remarked casually. "They
.won't stand a strain."
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"They were not made for twentieth-century
manners," rejoined Carstairs equably.
The young man flushed. "Do you mean it was
my fault?" he inquired.
"You know it was," said Carstairs.
"Perhaps you're right," said the other, shaking
his head. "But" he nodded in the direction of
Pope, and lowered his voice to a penetrating
whisper "he's got such an aggressive back. Be-
sides, I didn't think the chair would break; I merely
thought that he would come over backwards."
Mr. Pope, with a smothered exclamation, turned
and regarded him fixedly.
"However, all's well that ends well," pursued
the young man. "You'll allow me to settle for the
damage."
"No," said Carstairs.
"I shan't feel comfortable unless I do," urged
the other.
"I don't see any reason why you should be
allowed to feel comfortable," said Carstairs. "You
have done your best to make my friend feel un-
comfortable."
"He's all right," said the young man, nodding
comfortably at the glowering Pope. "He's a
sportsman."
He turned his chair a little with the air of one
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disposed for conversation, and, striking a match for
his cigarette, applied it first to the end of Pope's
cigar. The owner, paralyzed at his impudence,
endured the attention in silence, while a faint
chuckle from Carstairs cleared the atmosphere.
Mr. Pope had finished his second cigar and the
restaurant was nearly empty by the time they arose
from the table and, walking down the room, divided
the manager's bow between them.
"Bright youngster," said Carstairs, after their
newly made acquaintance had departed.
Pope assented, but without much enthusiasm.
".You gave him your address," he said accusingly.
"I like him," was the reply.
"And he is one of the sort that is sure to turn
up," added Pope.
His remark was justified by the arrival of Mr.
Jack Knight at Carstairs' flat three nights later.
Being in the neighbourhood, he said, he thought he
would just look in and see how Pope was progress-
ing in the furniture-moving line. When he left, at
midnight, both men saw him to the lift.
Within a fortnight he was on the footing of an
old and valued friend, and full of advice beyond
his years as to the best and most satisfactory mode
of disposing of a large income. The endowment
of an orphan asylum, coupled with visits to Monte
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Carlo, would, he thought, satisfy all shades of
opinion.
"Or you might get married," he said thought-
fully. "There are plenty of women who could get
through your income and ask for more."
"Meantime," said Carstairs, "while you are pric-
ing sites for the asylum, and Pope is looking up
the trains to Monte Carlo, I am going to look about
for a place in the country."
"Of course," said Knight suddenly. "Good
heavens! Why didn r t I think of it before? It's
the very thing; it fits in exactly. I've been wonder-
ing why Fate threw you into my lap in such an
informal manner. Now I know."
"He is rambling," said Pope.
"We are all going to ramble," retorted Knight.
"That is, so far as one can ramble in a motor-car.
To-morrow I am going to take you in a car Car-
stairs' to see the place. A beautiful Elizabethan
house in Hampshire that is just made for you."
"What's that got to do with your lap?" inquired
Carstairs.
"Small park, lot of land, and a lake; a little
gem of a lake," pursued the young man. "It's a
little bit of Paradise that has fallen into Hamp-
shire and is waiting for you to pick up."
"The place I'm going to look at is in Surrey,"
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said Carstairs. "I'm already corresponding about
it."
"Surrey? Surrey's no good," said Knight quickly.
"It's overrun. You come to Hampshire, there's a
good chap."
"Afterwards, perhaps, if the place in Surrey is
no good," said Carstairs.
"But it might be," said the other, "and in that
case you wouldn't want the Hampshire one."
Carstairs acquiesced.
"There's something behind it," growled Pope.
"Something to do with his precious lap. He is
quite agitated."
"You're right, Pope," said Carstairs, regarding
the young man closely. "If it were anybody else
I should say he was blushing."
"It's as near as he will ever get to it," said Pope.
"I have got nothing to blush about," declared
Knight firmly. "There's nothing wrong about be-
ing engaged, is there?"
"Engaged!" said his listeners together, and, "I
hope she's worthy of you," added Pope.
"I fail to see the connection between your en-
gagement and my choice of a house," said Car-
stairs.
"Lack of imagination," said Knight briefly. "She
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lives down there. If you take that delightful Eliza-
bethan mansion I can come and stay with you. As
it is, whenever I want to see her I have to hang
about fishing in the beastly little river there. Last
four times I caught three puny fish and saw her
once with her guardian."
Carstairs looked at him helplessly for a few
seconds, and then turned his gaze on Pope.
"No sense of proportion," he said, at last, "or
else morally deficient."
"Both," said Pope, in a deep voice.
"The house is probably a draughty ruin," pur-
sued Carstairs, "the so-called lake a duck-pond
covered with green slime. He ought to have been
a house agent."
"Well, I'm going down there to-morrow, any-
way," said Knight. "If you won't drive me down,
I suppose I must go by train third class."
"Why do you have to go fishing?" inquired Car-
stairs.
Mr. Knight sighed. "The engagement is not
official," he said, afoer a pause. "Lady Penrose,
her guardian, misunderstands me."
"But surely " began Carstairs.
"Don't make obvious jokes," said Knight wearily.
"This is serious. I suppose an old bachelor doesn't
understand; but he might try and learn."
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"What has the guardian got against you?" asked
Carstairs.
"Poverty," said Mr. Knight gloomily. "I am
an undesirable. Four hundred a year and a dis-
tinguished appearance are my sole assets."
"When I was your age " began Carstairs.
"Oh, my Aunt!" interrupted Mr. Knight, in de-
spairing accents. "My dear Carstairs, I have got
three uncles, three stolid, unimaginative uncles, and
whenever I go to see them to try and touch them
for a little bit they always begin that way. It's
their one opening. Try and say something more
agreeable. Tell me the time the car will be ready."
"I'm not going to take that house, mind," said
Carstairs.
"Course not," said Knight, with a delighted grin.
"But you can look at it. There's no harm in look-
ing, as the lady said when her husband asked her
not to go to the bargain sale. You're a brick, Car-
stairs. So's Pope," he added, after a moment's
reflection. "Will half-past ten be too early for
you?"
"That'll do," said Carstairs. "Is the chauffeur
to wear a white favour?"
"He can wear a wreath of roses if he likes," said
Knight. "I don't mind. I'm so pleased at being
able to be of service to you, Carstairs, that I'd put
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up with anything. By the way, do you mind if I
bring a friend with me? Chap named Peplow
great friend of mine. He's got interests down
there, too."
"Interests?" repeated Carstairs, in a dazed voice.
Mr. Knight nodded. "She's a very nice girl,"
he said generously. "Freddie used to come down
fishing with me, and the two girls are great friends.
He had met her before in town, too."
"Do you think I'm running a matrimonial
agency?" demanded Carstairs.
"Not at all," said Knight, raising his eyebrows.
"I'm merely asking you for a lift, that's all. I'll
tell Peplow he must go by train."
"Bring him, by all means," said Carstairs. "But,
mind, I wash my hands of it. I am merely going
to look at a house."
"Awfully good of you," said the other. "And,
if you remember, that's just what I wanted you to
go down there for. Well, good-by. If I'm to be
up early in the morning I must be off."
He took a cigarette from the box and departed,
humming the latest air from the latest musical
comedy. Carstairs, to avoid the censorious gaze of
Pope, got up and helped himself to a whisky and
soda.
The morning was misty, with a glorious sun over-
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head, as, punctual to the minute, the car drew up
and Mr. Knight descended the steps from his front
door, accompanied by a young man of somewhat
chubby appearance, whom he introduced as Mr.
Peplow. To Mr. Pope's whispered inquiry, "Where
are the others?" he turned a deaf ear.
"Awf'lly good of you," said Mr. Peplow, climb-
ing into the car as his friend got up in front. "I'm
so fond of fishing."
"Are your rods down there ?" inquired Carstairs,
as the car moved off.
"Jack," said Mr. Peplow, leaning forward,
"we've forgotten the rods."
"Never mind," said Mr. Knight.
"But " said Mr. Peplow.
Knight twisted round in his seat. "It's all right,"
he said calmly. "They know all about it. Car-
stairs wormed it out of me last night."
Mr. Peplow sat back in his seat and blushed,
and, smoothing a small fair moustache, glanced
sideways at his astonished host. A smothered guf-
faw from Mr. Pope did not add to his comfort.
"Awf lly good of you," he murmured mechani-
cally.
"Just the day for a run," said Knight, turning
round in his seat again as they left the dwindling
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suburbs and began to scent the open country. "You
ought to be awfully obliged to me, Carstairs."
"I am," was the reply.
"What is the programme?" inquired Knight.
"There's an awfully decent inn in the village, and
I suggest we should lunch there, and then go on
to the house afterwards."
"That'll do," said Carstairs. "And perhaps we
shall be able to see the house from the inn. That
will save trouble."
"I don't mind trouble," said Knight, "especially
if I can pick my own. Do you mind if I drive a
little way?"
He changed seats, and Mr. Pope, with a smoth-
ered exclamation, held on to the side of the car.
He leaned across Mr. Peplow to shout to Car-
stairs, but the wind blew the words down his throat.
He huddled back into his seat, and prepared for
the worst.
"Fast?" said Mr. Knight, as he slowed down
for a village. "You don't call that fast, do you?
Wait till I get a bit of straight road."
"He never has an accident," said Mr. Peplow
proudly, "but he's had the most marvellous squeaks.
Do you remember that brick-cart, Jack?"
Mr. Knight turned his head to smile, and Mr.
Pope's voice rose in protest.
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"We'll keep her down to twenty-five or thirty,
please," said Carstairs, leaning forward, "for the
sake of the brick-carts."
Mr. Knight sighed, and with a couple of fingers
on the wheel endeavoured, but in vain, to carry on
a conversation with Mr. Pope.
"We're nearly there, now," he said presently.
"Keep your eyes open for the scenery."
They passed slowly through a winding village
street, whose half-timbered houses had drowsed
through the centuries. The bell of the general shop
clanged, and a bent back disappeared inside the
doorway of the Red Lion. The rest of the place
slept.
"Restful!" said Mr. Knight, almost smacking
his lips. "Here's our show."
He drew up in front of a sedate old inn a hun-
dred yards beyond the village, and, yielding the
wheel to the chauffeur, led the way inside and, nod-
ding to the landlord, passed upstairs.
"Now for a fire and a meal," he said as he
ushered them into a comfortable room. "Here's
the fire, and the food will be on the table at one.
Observe how beautifully Pope's legs frame the
glowing coals."
CHAPTER III
,HE meal at the White Hart was so good
that Carstairs had a shrewd suspicion that
it had been ordered beforehand by the
enterprising Knight. Mr. Pope rose from the table
with a sigh, and, throwing the stub of his cigar
into the grate, drew an arm-chair on to the hearth-
rug and surveyed his friends with misty eyes.
Then, to Knight's indignation, he drew a large silk
handkerchief from his pocket and, placing it over
his face, composed himself to slumber.
"Is he ill?" inquired Knight. "I don't like his
breathing. There's a croupy sound about it that
would make me uneasy if I were his mother!"
The lips below the handkerchief parted, and
then, apparently thinking better of it, shut again
with a snap.
"Give him half an hour," said Carstairs.
"I'd give him five years if I could," said Knight
fervently, "but, unfortunately, time won't wait.
It's twenty past two now, and Hawker will be at
the house at half-past."
"Hawker!" repeated Carstairs.
27
The Castaways
"The agent," explained Mr. Knight. "I didn't
want you to have to come down twice over this
affair, so I wired to him to meet you."
"Jack thinks of everything," said Mr. Peplow,
turning to Carstairs.
"Did he think of your engagement?" said Pope,
sitting up suddenly and turning to Mr. Peplow.
"I mean, did he contrive it to suit his own ends
in any way?"
"Certainly not," said Peplow, blushing. "It's
it's a case of mutual esteem. Besides, we are not
engaged. We may be in time. It's only a hope
with me at present. It's "
"Don't tie yourself in knots, Freddie," said
Knight kindly. "He's not your father; and there'll
be plenty of other people to explain to. Save your-
self up for them. All this is sour grapes to Pope.
The only time a girl ever smiled at him was when
he slipped on a banana skin. Are we all ready,
Carstairs?"
A little over five minutes in the car brought
them to the lodge gates, where a man in a blue
baize apron, touching his cap as they turned in,
followed them up the drive on foot. The road
was a winding one, and when the house suddenly
burst into view Carstairs was unable to repress an
exclamation.
28
The Castaways
"Ripping, isn't it?" said the gratified Knight.
"Don't let him look so pleased, Pope; Hawker is
a hard nut to crack."
Mr. Hawker, a wiry figure in a bowler hat and
mustard-coloured gaiters, came forward to meet
them as the car stopped. A pleasant-faced man,
but with a glint in his eye that put all Mr. Pope's
faculties on the alert.
"Good job Carstairs has got you to look after
him," murmured Knight in his ear as they dis-
mounted.
Mr. Pope grinned, and endeavoured, but in vain,
to throw off the arm linked in his. He even went
so far as to call the owner a serpent, but Mr.
Knight, who was at the moment introducing Mr.
Carstairs, paid no heed.
It was a beautiful house, and Carstairs, to his
secretary's horror, promptly said so. In these cir-
cumstances there was nothing for Mr. Pope to do
but to call attention to the time-worn brickwork.
He also pointed out that one of the gables was
a little bit out of plumb.
"Very nice to look at, of course," he said, shak-
ing his head, as they passed slowly along the ter-
race. "I remember once being much impressed by
the ruins of an old castle in Scotland."
"Ah, if you want ruins," said Mr. Hawker, "I'm
29
The Castaways
afraid you will be disappointed here. The house
is in a splendid state of preservation."
"Any ghosts?" inquired Pope.
Mr. Hawker hesitated; some people like ghosts,
others have an insurmountable objection to them.
"It looks too comfortable for a ghost," he said
with a laugh. "Do you believe in them?"
"Certainly not," said Pope disdainfully.
"There is no ghost here," said Hawker promptly.
"Shall we go inside now, while the light is good?"
He led the way in, and left the old, oak-panelled
hall, with its huge, open fireplace, to speak for
itself. A wood fire crackled and blazed on the
hearth.
"I thought it would look comfortable," said Mr.
Hawker.
Mr. Pope, with his back to the blaze, nodded
benignly. Then he intercepted a faint grin pass-
ing from Mr. Knight to Mr. Peplow.
"You thought so too, Knight?" he said loudly.
"I think so," corrected the young man in a sur-
prised voice. "But, my dear Pope, think of this
hall furnished ! Old chests, old chairs not too
old to be comfortable Persian rugs, drinks,
cigars "
"Draughts," interposed Mr. Pope.
"Fresh air," said Knight. "Come along, there's
30
The Castaways
a lot to see. And after the house there is the glass,
and the stables, and the lake."
They wandered through the house, Mr. Knight
hastily furnishing each room in a few well-chosen
words as they inspected it. A suite of three rooms
with a magnificent view he allotted to Mr. Pope.
He laid stress on the fact that the principal one
contained a fireplace big enough to roast an ox.
"It's a nice house," said Carstairs to him, as
they all trooped downstairs again. "Yes, all right;
I have admired the staircase once and if you will
give me your word of honour never to visit me
or worry me with your matrimonial projects I
might think of taking it."
"I'll promise never to come unless I am asked,"
said the young man stiffly.
"I'm afraid that's no good," said Carstairs, smil-
ing. "You must promise not to come when you
are asked."
Mr. Knight's face relaxed. "You're a good sort,
Carstairs," he said blithely. "Bit too fond of
rotting; but we can't all be perfect. Pope must
have got a soft spot in his heart for me too. He
said the other day that he wished he had been
my father."
The air struck chill and the light was fading as
they got outside. It was damp underfoot, and the
The Castaways
much-vaunted lake looked drear and cold. Effects
on the water, pointed out by Messrs. Hawker and
Knight, only elicited a shiver from Mr. Pope.
"Most depressing," he declared. "Let's get back
and have some tea. We shall be frozen getting
back to town."
He turned and led the way to the car, while
the lodge-keeper, who had been hovering near the
party, touched his cap to Carstairs and asked per-
mission to favour him with a few biographical
details concerning the best man he ever knew. It
was an inspiring theme, but the party waiting in
the car began to murmur at the length of it. He
turned away with a smile at last and moved off
with a springy step.
"Want the job?" inquired Knight, as Carstairs
took a seat beside him.
Carstairs nodded.
"What did you tell him?" inquired the other,
as the car whirled down the drive.
"Told him 'Yes,' of course," said Carstairs.
"Poor chap, he has been in a state of anxiety for
nine months. He's been here seventeen years.
What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing," said Knight. "It wasn't a laugh; it
was a gratified smile at hearing you have decided
to take the place."
32
The Castaways
"Subject to coming to terms, yes," said Carstairs.
"But that is Pope's job. Pope versus Hawker. You
were quite right, Knight; it's a beautiful place, and
I'm glad I came to see it."
"Few men would admit themselves to have been
in the wrong as freely as you do," said Knight
gravely. "Freddie !"
"Halloa !" said Mr. Peplow.
"He's hooked!"
Mr. Peplow started, and then turned to Mr.
Carstairs with a glance of protest at his friend's
rudeness.
"That's all right," said Knight. "You needn't
look like a little plaster saint. Remember what you
said about him last night."
"I ?" stammered the distressed Peplow. "I assure
you, Mr. Carstairs "
"He's always like that," said Knight calmly; "he
lets me fight his battles for him, and then tries to
pass by on the other side. Fortunately, my char-
acter is strong enough for both. Here we are, and
now for a cup of Pope-reviving tea. Hot and strong,
with two lumps of sugar."
Mr. Pope subsided into his easy-chair with a sigh
of relief and extended his hands to the blaze. Tea
appeared on the table, but he refused to move, and
33
The Castaways
taking cup after cup in his cosy corner gradually
thawed into a heavy geniality. He even joined in
the chorus of praise of the house, comparing it fa-
vourably with others of three inches by two that
he had seen in advertisements. In reply to a chal-
lenge of Knight's he declared himself a match for
Hawker any day.
"So long as you fix it up I don't mind who wins,"
said Knight. "Carstairs has got plenty of money.
Have you finished, Freddie?" he inquired, with a
significant glance; "because if so you had better
come down and see the landlord about that dog you
were talking about."
Mr. Peplow, exhibiting more confusion than the
occasion seemed to warrant, arose, and with a glance
at Carstairs, followed his friend out of the room.
Mr. Pope, declining another cup of tea, lit a cigar-
ette and smoked on in silence.
"Nice boys," said Carstairs, breaking a long
silence.
Pope grunted. "Might be worse," he said at
last. "Pity Knight couldn't have had the advantage
of a training at the bank. If he had gone in, say
at eighteen, under me, he would have been a dif-
ferent man altogether."
Carstairs agreed, and, drawing his chair up, sat
gazing at the fire. Pope finished his cigarette, and,
34
The Castaways
throwing the stub into the grate, closed his eyes and
fell into a light doze.
He awoke after some time, and, rubbing his eyes,
sat up blinking at his friend. Then he looked at
the clock.
"Good gracious!" he said, with a start. "It's
time we were off. Where are those boys?"
Carstairs shook his head. "Still discussing the
dog, I suppose," he said.
"I'll go and hurry them up," said Pope.
He went heavily downstairs, to reappear in five
minutes' time with the landlord.
"They didn't say anything to me about a dog,"
said the latter. "They went out about half an
hour ago, and they said if anybody asked for them
they had gone out to look at the moon."
"Moon!" repeated Mr. Pope sharply. "But
there is no moon."
"Just what I told 'em," said the landlord. "And
Mr. Knight said, 'No, he knew that, and they were
going out to see what had become of it.' '
Carstairs coughed and looked at Pope. "It would
serve 'em right " he began slowly.
"Eh?" said Pope.
Their eyes met, and the hard lines in Pope's face
melted into a huge grin.
"Let me have my car as soon as possible," said
35
The Castaways
Carstairs, turning to the landlord; "and when those
two gentlemen come back tell them we couldn't
wait."
"Tell 'em we have 'shot the moon/ " added Pope,
with a noisy chuckle. "Hurry up !"
He clapped Carstairs on the shoulder as the land-
lord withdrew, and both gentlemen, in a state of
glee somewhat unsuited to their years, proceeded
to array themselves for the journey. Pope held his
friend's coat for him and placed it almost tenderly
about his shoulders. Mr. Carstairs, after Pope had
wound a huge muffler about his throat, thoughtfully
pulled up his coat-collar for him.
"I hope the landlord won't forget that bit about
'shooting the moon,' " said Pope, as they almost
danced downstairs. "I should like to see Knight's
face ; but you can't have everything."
They stopped in front of the cosy bar, and at
Pope's suggestion ordered a couple of glasses of
cherry brandy to keep out the cold.
"Car ready?" he inquired, as the landlord came
in from the back.
"Can't find the chauffeur, sir," said the landlord.
"He's nowhere on the premises, but I've sent the
ostler up the street to look for him."
Mr. Pope, with his glass midway to his mouth,
turned pale and put it down on the counter again,
36
The Castaways
while the landlord turned to renew the search
apparently in the coal-shed. Mr. Carstairs emptied
his glass, and both gentlemen, with lagging steps,
ascended the stairs again.
"Youth must be served," quoted Carstairs, as he
proceeded to unwrap himself.
"I wish I had the serving of him," grunted the
other. "Of all the young jackanapes "
He turned away as he saw Carstairs' lips twitch,
and after a hopeless attempt to maintain his dignity
began to laugh too. Restored to good-humour, he
poked the fire, and, putting his feet on the fender,
sat down to wait.
Half an hour later a murmur of voices below
announced the return of the truants. The landlord's
voice was heard above the others, then a smothered
laugh, apparently from Mr. Knight, and a startled
"H'sh!" which the reddening Pope rightly attrib-
uted to Mr. Peplow.
"Landlord's given them your message," said Car-
stairs.
"Hope we haven't kept you waiting?" said Knight,
politely, as he entered the room, followed by a
shadowy Peplow.
"We have been waiting an hour and a half," said
Carstairs.
37
The Castaways
"Sorry," said Knight. "Didn't seem more than
five minutes to us, did it, Freddie?"
"I I thought we had been about a quarter of
an hour," said Mr. Peplovv, "or perhaps twenty
minutes."
Mr. Knight looked from Carstairs to Pope and
from Pope to Carstairs.
"Sorry," he said again, with dignity, "but you
know our object in coming down here, Carstairs,
and, after having missed the afternoon looking after
your business, we thought we might take ten min-
utes for our own."
Carstairs looked helplessly at Pope. "My busi-
ness?" he said at last.
"Helping you to choose a house," explained
Knight.
"And what did you take Biggs away with you
for?" demanded Carstairs.
"Out of deference to your prejudices," said
Knight promptly. "Freddie thought "
"I didn't," interrupted Mr. Peplow hastily.
"Freddie thought," repeated Mr. Knight firmly,
"that you and Pope, being mid-Victorians, would
have old-fashioned notions about that sort of thing,
so we took Biggs to chaperon us, and, in justice to
him, I must say that we told him to come with us
38
The Castaways
to take something back to you. He has just asked
me what it was."
"What was it?" inquired Carstairs, staring.
"A report of our immaculate behaviour," said
Knight. "Lady Penrose's maid was with them, and
he kept her company in her duties."
"Don't listen to him," said Pope, rising and pick-
ing up his overcoat.
"Besides, it was a precautionary measure," added
Knight.
Pope stopped with one arm in a sleeve and stared
at him.
"Neither of you being able to drive," explained
Knight, with an abominable grin.
39
CHAPTER IV
MR. HAWKER, in a moment of frankness
caused by despondency, admitted that he
had met his match in Mr. Pope; after
which the negotiations for the tenancy of Berstead
Place progressed with great smoothness. The law-
yers on both sides raised various points, but nothing
that consultations and letters could not adjust to
the satisfaction of all concerned. In the exercise
of his duties Pope paid frequent visits to Carstairs'
lawyers, a remark of the junion partner, a some-
what excitable person, to the effect that it was a
pity Pope had not been brought up to the law, giving
him great satisfaction until, in an ill moment for his
peace of mind, he repeated it to the evil-minded
Knight
The lease was signed at last, and the house put
into the hands of a well-known firm ^f builders,
decorations proceeding with the slowness character-
istic of good work and the ideals of the English
workman.
"Trying to hurry them is no good," announced
40
The Castaways
Mr. Pope, coming out of the house with a some-
what flushed face, on a fine afternoon in February,
"and sarcasm is simply thrown away on them. One
little rat of a painter actually asked me whether I
had ever been on the music-halls. Me !"
"I know the man you mean," said Carstairs. "I
stood looking at him the other day for a quarter
of an hour and he never moved a muscle. However,
they will finish some time, in spite of their efforts.
Suppose we walk back and meet the car."
It was damp underfoot, but the air was soft and
warm, and birds of an optimistic turn of mind were
already beginning to sing the praises of spring. The
two friends tramped on pleasantly until they reached
the village, and, proceeding along the High Street,
gazed with some curiosity at a little crowd at the
other end of it.
"Looks like our car," said Pope, quickening his
pace.
It was their car, and their chauffeur with a piece
of borrowed string was taking painstaking measure-
ments of the distance of his wheels from the foot-
path. His job finished, he proceeded quite unasked
to perform the same office for a damaged governess-
car that stood near by on one wheel. A neatly
shaved young groom, standing at his horse's head,
watched him with calm disdain.
41
The Castaways
"What is the matter?" inquired Carstairs, step-
ping forward.
"Young lad and a young horse, sir," said Biggs,
respectfully, but loudly. "Came right across the
road into my off mudguard. Look at it!"
Carstairs glanced at the crumpled metal, and then
looked at the shattered wheel of the trap.
"Anybody hurt?" he inquired.
Mr. Biggs stood reflecting. "I don't think so,"
he observed calmly. "It wasn't his fault if they
weren't; he did his best. Come right across the
road; I s'pose he pulled the wrong rein."
Carstairs looked around inquiringly. A hand-
some, smartly dressed woman of about thirty-five
stood on the footpath with a pretty girl. From a
certain air of detached interest they manifested in
the proceedings he came to the conclusion that the
trap belonged to them.
"I hope you are not hurt!" he said, raising his
cap.
"Fortunately no," was the reply.
"Or shaken?"
A little colour appeared in the lady's cheek. "One
can hardly be shot out of a cart without," she said
tardy.
Few men can gaze on beauty in distress unmoved.
42
The Castaways
"You must have been driving very carelessly, Biggs !"
exclaimed Carstairs.
"Yessir," said Biggs respectfully.
"You might have killed these ladies."
Biggs twisted his features into an expression of
concern. "Yessir," he said again. "I was only a
foot from the kerb. I couldn't give 'em much more
room."
"He put his hand up," said an old man standing
by. "I see him do it. You ought to ha* stopped."
"You ought to be in bed," said Biggs, in a low
voice, as he edged up to him. "You oughtn't to be
out with eyes like them. It ain't safe."
"I'm afraid we are to blame," said Carstairs,
"but I am delighted to see that nobody has been
injured. May I give you my address?"
He took out his case and, extracting a card,
handed it to the owner of the trap. The girl leaned
forward to read it, and then, looking up at Car-
stairs, favoured him with a dazzling smile. Her
companion, placing the card in her purse, bowed and
turned away.
"And if you would permit me to send you home,"
said Carstairs, "my car is at your disposal. Please
take it."
"He is really a good driver," said Pope, joining
in the conversation. "You would be quite safe."
43
The Castaways
"Thanks very much, but we are quite able to
walk," said the lady.
"I don't know," said the girl gravely, with an-
other glance at Carstairs. "I'd sooner ride, Isabel,
if you don't mind. I feel just a wee bit tottery."
Her companion hesitated. Carstairs held the
door open, and, after another moment's hesitation,
she stepped in and seated herself.
"Very kind of you," she said, smiling. "It isn't
far; you won't have to wait long."
Mr. Biggs, who was having a heart-to-heart talk
with the groom, tore himself away with visible
reluctance.
"Why don't you hold him properly?" he said, al-
luding to the horse. "He's wiped his nose once on
your sleeve already."
The wheelwright came up after the car had gone
and took the trap away, and the horse and groom,
a dejected couple, started on the walk home. Mr.
Biggs, who met them on his return journey, was still
smiling broadly when he rejoined his employer.
"I couldn't say much before a lady, sir," he said,
as Carstairs got into the car, "but it was their fault;
the horse danced about all over the road. I've drove
a car for six years now and never touched anything
yet. Other things have touched me sometimes
and wished they hadn't."
44
The Castaways
Knight, who looked in at the flat late that even-
ing, espoused the cause of Biggs. "Far too nervous
and careful to run into anything," he said scornfully.
"My fingers simply itch to take the wheel away from
him sometimes."
"Let 'em itch," grunted Pope.
"He'll draw a bath-chair before he has finished,"
said the young man, "with a dear friend of mine in
it. By the way, who were the ladies? What was
the young one like?"
"Attractive," replied Pope.
Knight looked interested. "Very attractive?" he
asked.
Pope started and hid a grin. "No," he replied.
"What was the old lady like?" inquired Knight,
looking disappointed.
"There was no old lady there," retorted Carstairs
sharply. "Really, Knight "
Mr. Knight whistled. "Sorry," he said slowly,
"but there's no disgrace in being old. I shall be
old myself some day. Old age is beautiful. Isn't
it, Pope? Well, what was she like, anyway? At-
tractive ?"
Carstairs nodded. "A well-bred, handsome wom-
an, a little over thirty, I should think," he replied.
Knight's eyes sparkled. "And rather a sour ex-
pression?" he inquired.
45
The Castaways
"Certainly not," said Carstairs and Pope together.
"If it is the one I am thinking of, I have seen
it often enough," said Knight. "But what was the
girl really like, Carstairs?"
"Oh, nice bright girl," said Carstairs. "Friendly
smile, tallish. She called her friend Isabel."
"There you are," said Knight, jumping up. "My
suspicions are confirmed. Isabel is Lady Penrose's
name, and you begin an acquaintance I was looking
forward to with great hopes by wrecking her cart.
I wonder who the girl was?"
"Does it really matter?" inquired Carstairs, with
a yawn.
"No," said Knight. "I was wondering whether
it was Miss Seacombe, that is all, but your descrip-
tion is far too lukewarm to apply to her. However,
we shall know when you call to inquire."
"Call to inquire?" repeated Carstairs. "I am
not going to call. Why, I only know the lady's
name by accident."
"Of course you will call," said Knight. "You
knock a couple of ladies out of their trap with your
beastly road-hog car, and then you think the affair
is finished. You must display a little interest in the
welfare of your victims. Ask Pope; he knows."
Mr. Pope, removing his cigar, pursed up his lips
and frowned thoughtfully. "Wait till we get their
46
The Castaways
bill for damages," he said at last, with a side glance
at Carstairs. "Then, if it is too heavy, Carstairs
can call and protest and inquire after her health at
the same time."
"Funny," retorted Knight, "but that gives me an
idea. I don't suppose it's at all likely Lady Penrose
will make any claim. Carstairs can call on her
if she doesn't and insist upon it. How will that
do?"
"Anything to get rid of you," said Carstairs, with
a glance at the clock.
"You will call?"
"Perhaps."
"I'll come with you next time you run down,"
said Knight, with an air of resignation. "Things
are sure to go wrong if I'm not there; and you don't
seem to realise how important this is. But don't
forget one thing. Don't let Lady Penrose know
that we are acquainted. Let it come as a little
surprise to her, when it is too late."
"Any further instructions?" inquired Carstairs.
"I'll let you know on the way down," was the
reply. "Providence seems to be fighting on my be-
half, and I want to give it all the assistance I can.
I shall give Biggs half-a-crown; he deserves it."
Biggs received the money next day, and, having
jplaced it carefully in a leather purse before stowing
47
The Castaways
it away in his pocket, made it quite clear to his
benefactor that he had not earned it. He preferred
to regard it as some slight consolation for a base
attempt to injure an untarnished reputation.
No word having come from Lady Penrose, they
went down to Berstead a week later, the inability
of Carstairs to make up his mind as to the propriety
of calling causing great concern to Knight on the
way.
"If it had been a cottager you would have been
round next evening," he said severely. "Just be-
cause the unfortunate victim happens to be a lady
you are treating her with studied neglect. She may
have died from shock for all you know expecting
you up to the end."
"I thought I was to see her about the damage,"
observed Carstairs.
"Combine business with pleasure," said Knight,
"but don't ask after the cart first, mind. While you
are gone Pope and I will hustle the workmen for
you. She won't bite you; as a matter of fact, she is
rather faddy about food."
Carstairs dropped them at the house, and after
remarking that he would be back in ten minutes'
time, and adjuring Pope not to let Knight annoy the
workmen, gave Biggs his directions and drove away.
4S
The Castaways
Pope, staring after the receding car, turned to con-
front his smiling companion.
"He is doing this for you," he said importantly.
"Carstairs is a very shy man, a remarkably shy man
where women are concerned."
"It is time he was cured, then," said the other
serenely. U A man has no business to be shy. I
never was. Women don't like shy men; they are
so difficult to encourage. Let's go inside and see
how things are progressing."
Pope followed him in, and for some time they
wandered through the empty rooms. Many of them
were finished, but in some the workmen still lingered.
"Carstairs is taking a good ten minutes," said
Knight, as they gained the hall again. "Got a cigar-
ette about you, Pope? I left mine in my coat."
"So did I," said Pope. "Let's stroll as far as
the lodge and meet him. I feel chilly standing
about."
They reached the lodge and stood waiting, and,
there being no sign of the car, walked slowly back
again to the house and sat on the stairs. A gentle
murmur sounded outside.
"Rain," said Knight.
He got up and walked about the house again.
The men were putting their tools together, and,
drifting downstairs, turned their cat-collars up at
49
The Castaways
the door and departed in little groups. A foreman,
waiting to lock up, coughed restlessly.
"I'll take the key," said Pope. "We'll leave it at
the lodge."
He put it in his pocket and, walking to the door,
stood gazing at the rain, which was now falling
steadily.
"They must have had a breakdown," he said at
last, crossly. "Pity we didn't ask them to give us
some tea at the lodge."
"Let's make a run for it," suggested the other.
Pope shook his head. "Rheumatism," he said
tersely. "We should get wet through." He put
his hands in his pockets and paced to and fro. Half
an hour passed.
"Wonder what's happened?" said Knight. "I
hope he's all right."
"I wish he'd come," snapped Pope. "This is \vhat
comes of listening to you."
He went back to the stairs again and sat shiver-
ing. Outside the rain was falling faster than ever,
and darkness was coming on.
"I'm afraid you're right," he said, after a long
silence. "Something must have happened to him.
He'd never leave me here like this."
"Or me," asserted Knight. "Hark !"
He stepped to the door again, followed by Pope.
50
The Castaways
The sound of an approaching car was distinctly
audible, and in a few seconds the head-lights swung
round the corner. It drew up as Pope locked the
door, and stood waiting with a rhythmically throb-
bing engine.
"What's the matter?" he inquired, as Biggs
reached backwards and opened the door.
"Matter!" repeated Carstairs, in a surprised
voice. "Nothing."
"What on earth have you been all this time for,
then?" inquired Pope, dropping heavily into his seat.
"Have I been long?" said Carstairs. "It didn't
seem like it."
"But you haven't been all this time at Lady Pen-
rose's?" said Knight.
"Why not?" said Carstairs, with some warmth.
"By the way, Knight, it was Miss Seacombe who
was in the trap with her that day."
Mr. Knight, who was struggling into his coat,
grunted. "Your rapturous description could only
fit her," he remarked dryly. "Let me give you a
hand with your coat, Pope."
Mr. Pope, accepting the proffered assistance, sank
back into his seat again, and after peering vainly at
Carstairs in the darkness, subsided into an aggrieved
silence. He broke it at last with a remark about
tea.
The Castaways
"Tea!" repeated Carstairs dreamily. "I've had
some, thanks."
He pulled up his coat collar and, nestling com-
fortably in his corner, closed his eyes. Mr. Pope,
suffering from a sudden fortunate impediment in his
speech, allowed Knight to speak for him.
"It isn't tea he wants," said that gentleman sharp-
ly, "it's milk a little of the milk of human kind-
ness. There he sits wrapped up in himself, and
we can perish of cold and starvation for all he cares.
Are you listening, Carstairs?"
"I forgot you," said Carstairs. "Stop at the first
place you come to. Go on, Biggs."
"Forgot us!" repeated Knight, raising his voice
as the car moved on. "That's his idea of an
apology."
CHAPTER V
A STEADY trickle of thirsty carmen into the
Red Lion during March heralded the ar-
rival of Mr. Carstairs to Berstead Place.
They brought on their vans old furniture, and other
old furniture which represented the pouring of new
wine into old bottles with the happiest results. Chairs
which had long since given up their backs as hope-
less held themselves erect again and invited the in-
spection of the amateur expert; chairs with three
new legs footed it with the oldest.
"You can't tell them without taking them to
pieces," said Knight to Pope one afternoon, "and
even the oldest friend of the family couldn't do that.
I shall be furnishing myself some day, and this ex-
perience has been very valuable to me. Your pur-
chases will last longer than any of the others."
"Why?" inquired Pope, smiling.
"Because they're the youngest."
"They'll be old enough by the time you furnish,"
said Pope, with a malevolent grin. "I didn't tell
you that I called with Carstairs yesterday to make
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sure that Lady Penrose is still unhurt? That's his
third visit."
Mr. Knight raised his eyebrows.
"Charming woman," said Pope reminiscently.
"Delightful ! But it was quite clear, from the way
she talked about you, that you haven't the ghost of
a chance."
"About me !" exclaimed Knight. "Why, you old
blunderer, what did you mention my name for?"
"I didn't," said Pope placidly; "but she was talk-
ing to Carstairs about Miss Seacombe charming
girl, something so fresh and unspoilt about her. I
got quite interested."
"Go on," urged Knight. "Never mind about your
feelings."
"She was talking about her responsibility Lady
Penrose, I mean and when she spoke of flippant
ne'er-do-wells with no object in life we both thought
that she must be referring to you. When she used
the expression 'harmless and useless,' we felt quite
certain. Pity she didn't mention you by name, be-
cause then we could have stood up for you."
"I don't mind the other terms," exclaimed Knight,
"but 'harmless.' Well, perhaps, she'll know better
in time. Harmless! I've never been called that
before. -If it had been Freddie Peplow, now "
"She gets on very well with Carstairs," continued
54
The Castaways
Mr. Pope. "Wonder what will happen when she
finds out that he knows you ? Either she will drop
him, I suppose, or "
"Or?" prompted Mr. Knight.
"Or he will have to drop you."
"Nobody can drop me unless I want them, to,"
said Knight cheerfully. "Think of the ingratitude
of itl Why, Carstairs would never have known of
the house if it hadn't been for me. He wouldn't
have banged into her cart if it hadn't been for me.
Are you sure she said 'harmless' ? Sure it wasn't
'harmful' ?"
He took occasion to remind Carstairs at their
next meeting of all he had done for him, but, despite
a habit of looking on the cheerful side of things,
doubts began to assail him as to his friend's single-
minded devotion to his interests. The man for whom
he had done so much even advised him to go away
for a year and find some hard and congenial work.
Mr. Knight, after pointing out the discrepancy, re-
quested him to descend to details. Carstairs, after
long deliberation, suggested sheep-farming in Aus-
tralia.
"I was waiting for it," said Knight, in resigned
accents. "I knew it was coming. It is the one occu-
pation that my intelligent friends always select for
me. And they always harp on Australia. I suppose
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The Castaways
we can sheep-farm in other places. Why Australia ?
And what do you think I know about sheep?"
Carstairs pondered. "Poultry-farming?" he sug-
gested slowly.
"That's the second string," said Knight, with
forced calm. "Not so popular as the other because
it is done in England. I look like a poultry- farmer,
don't I? How do you think the unfortunate hens
would like it?"
"Perhaps you had better take to work by degrees,"
said Carstairs, smiling. "I can find you a job for
one afternoon. Are you doing anything on Fri-
day?"
"Depends upon what the job is," said Knight.
"I have been trying to arrange with an aunt of
mine to come and look after me at Berstead," said
Carstairs. "She couldn't make up her mind for
some time, and, now she has decided to come, she
is coming rather sooner than I wanted her. She is
coming up on Friday to spend a few days in Lon-
don before going on to Berstead."
"What do you want me to do ?" inquired Knight.
"Head her off?"
"I want you to look after her for a few hours,"
said Carstairs. "She is due at Euston at three, and
Pope and I had already fixed up to run down to the
house. She is an old lady of seventy, and if we
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meet her and hand her over to you we can go on.
You could bring her here and look after her till we
come back."
"Is she to be a fixture at Berstead?" asked Knight
thoughtfully.
"That is the idea," said Carstairs.
"Very good idea, too," said Knight slowly. "You
and Pope want somebody to look after you. I had
five or six very important engagements for Friday
afternoon, but I'll throw them over. I want to
heap coals of fire on your head. How old do
you say she is?"
"Seventy."
Mr. Knight looked thoughtful. "Hurry back as
soon as you can," he exclaimed. "I don't want to
overdo the coals of fire business. I suppose she
won't be nervous in a taxi ? I don't want her cling-
ing to me, or anything of that sort."
His forebodings increased each day, and he was
unusually quiet as he waited with Carstairs and
Pope for the incoming train.
"She will probably want to rest when she gets to
the flat," said Carstairs. "Be as gentle as you can
with her. It's rather awkward my having to run
off like this."
"Deucedly awkward," agreed Mr. Knight. "I
wish now I'd asked Freddie to lend a hand."
57
The Castaways
The train drew into the station and the crowd
moved up the platform. A fragile little old lady
with white hair and bright blue eyes detached her-
self from the throng and came towards them. Car-
stairs, after an affectionate handshake, introduced
his companions. Then, a little awkwardly, he ex-
plained the situation.
"It's very kind of him," said Mrs. Ginnell; u but
I should have been all right. Now you hurry away.
Mr. Knight and I will look after the luggage. I
shall see you when you come back."
She raised her nose and smffed gently as the
porter and the taxi-driver hoisted up the luggage.
"Smells good," she said, with a satisfied air.
Mr. Knight stared at her.
"London," she explained. "I haven't seen it for
twenty-two years. Is it far to the flat?"
"About a couple of miles," said Knight.
Mrs. Ginnell sighed. "Ask him to drive slowly,"
she murmured.
"It's quite safe," said Knight reassuringly. "I
picked him on purpose."
Mrs. Ginnell laughed. "I didn't mean that," she
said. "I want to see a little of the place."
"Might drive round a bit if you like," said the
other.
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The Castaways
Mrs. Ginnell nodded, and sitting with clasped
hands peered through the window at the life of
the streets. Certain landmarks she recognised with
little gasps of pleasure; others had disappeared to
make way for new streets and palatial buildings.
By the time they reached the flat the taximeter regis-
tered six-and-eightpence, and she spoke warmly to
Knight of the courtesy of the modern taxi-driver as
compared with the old-style cabman. She referred
to an affair with one of the latter which had rankled
for thirty-five years.
"Tea first?" said Knight, as he placed her in
Carstairs' most comfortable chair. "And then per-
haps you'd like to go to your room and rest for an
hour or two."
"No, I am not in the least tired, thank you," said
Mrs. Ginnell, as he rang for the tea. "Why, I've
done nothing to-day yet. I've been sitting down all
the time. I want you to tell me all about my nephew
and the new house."
She poured out tea and listened, interposing with
a dexterous question or two whenever the young
man showed signs of flagging. It was evident that
she was a woman of intelligence; intelligent enough,
he hoped, to take a lively interest in the affairs of
deserving young men. He had a strong idea that
she was worth cultivating.
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The Castaways
"I suppose you wouldn't care to do anything?"
he remarked, as he threw away the end of his third
cigarette. "If you are not too tired, how about a
cinema?"
"I should love it!" said Mrs. Ginnell. "I have
never seen a really good one. What time do you
think my nephew will be back?"
"Eight at the earliest," was the reply. "But we
needn't trouble about them; we must consider our-
selves."
He lit another cigarette while Mrs. Ginnell was
getting ready, and, noting with approval her change
of costume, escorted her downstairs.
"I'd rather walk," she exclaimed, as he looked
around for a taxi. "That is, unless you are tired?"
Mr. Knight gazed at her suspiciously, but, seeing
nothing but gentle consideration for his comfort in
the old blue eyes looking into his, turned and walked
beside her.
"Why, it's like a theatre !" said Mrs. Ginnell, as
they took their seats. "The one I used to go to
was in an old mission-hall with a tin roof."
She settled herself comfortably in her stall and
for two hours watched with youthful enthusiasm
Wild West cowboys galloping over the country-
side; men with seraphic faces bearing the burden
of another's guilt! amateur motorists obsessed with
60
The Castaways
the idea of charging scaffoldings and bringing on
their heads cascades of infuriated bricklayers.
"Most enjoyable," she murmured, as they
emerged into the cool spring evening. "Oh, dear!
I have the same feeling now th'at I used to have
years ago ; it always seems so unsatisfactory to come
out from an entertainment in daytime, and meet
other people coming out to spend the evening."
Mr. Knight turned and regarded her with amaze-
ment, not unmixed with admiration.
"Quarter to seven," he said, looking at his watch.
"Suppose we eat our simple meal at a restaurant
instead of going back to the flat?"
"It would be delightful for me," said Mrs. Gin-
nell doubtfully; "but it is not very amusing for you."
"Now," said Knight, with some sternness, "you're
fishing! When I tell you that I would sooner take
you to dinner than than "
"I see your difficulty," said the old lady.
"Than anybody else but one person in the world/ v
concluded Mr. Knight triumphantly.
"Very nice, if not exactly truthful," commented
Mrs. Ginnell; "but I suppose truth is not nice as a
rule. Very well, we will go to dinner, and you can
tell me about the girl whose place I am usurping."
"Where shall we go?" said Knight, considering.
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The Castaways
"The Pagoda is not bad, but they have a band
there."
Mrs. Ginnell's eyes sparkled. "Lovely!" she ex-
claimed. "When one doesn't want to talk one can
listen to the music; when one does well, I'd like to
see the band that would stop me."
It was a good dinner, and she ate it with appre-
ciation. The band was discreet as well as tuneful,
and the waiter like a ministering angel in a dress-
suit.
"Fancy! I haven't done this for over twenty
years," she said. "I'm so glad I came up in time
to have a day or two in London first. It has been a
most delightful day."
"Has been?" breathed Mr. Knight.
Mrs. Ginnell looked at him.
"Let's go on somewhere," said the tempter.
Mrs. Ginnell's better nature strove within her.
"My nephew won't know what has become of us,"
she murmured. "Perhaps we had better go home."
"I'll 'phone to the people at the flat," said Knight.
"What do you say? A theatre or a music-hall?"
"Music-hall," said Mrs. Ginnell promptly. "I've
never been to one."
"I shall feel like a parent taking his child to its
first pantomime," said Knight. "Are you ready?"
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The Castaways
Messrs. Carstairs and Pope, who had been hurry-
ing home at a pace utterly inconsistent with the
safety of the public, arrived there just after the
message was received, and over a comfortable meal
shook their heads at the irresponsibility of youth.
"Probably lay her up for a fortnight," said Pope
solemnly. "She's a delicate-looking little woman.
I wonder what his game is?"
They sat and smoked until half-past eleven. At
twelve o'clock Mrs. Ginnell's nephew began to be
uneasy; at a quarter to one, just as he was preparing
to organise the reluctant Pope into a search-party,
the door opened and the truants entered. Carstairs,
rising hastily, pushed a chair towards his aunt an4
offered to help her towards it.
"We've had a lovely time," said Mrs. Ginnell.
"Ripping," said Mr. Knight.
"What makes you so late?" inquired Carstairs.
"Late!" repeated Knight. "H'm! I suppose
we are rather. We had a bit of supper after the
show and that delayed us a bit."
He took a cigarette from the table and sat by as
a sort of chorus while Mrs. Ginnell expatiated on
the joys of the evening. The narration took her
some time, but she retired to her room at last, and
the door had scarcely closed behind her before Mr.
Knight was sternly called upon for an explanation.
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"At present," said Carstairs, "she is kept up by
excitement."
"When that passes away " said Pope, shaking
his head.
"To-morrow," said Carstairs, with conviction,
"she'll be a wreck."
"Beef-tea arrowroot," explained Pope vaguely,
"medicine nurse."
"It's a wise nephew that knows its own aunt," said
Knight. "Don't you worry about arrowroot for
her; devilled kidneys are more in her line. She's
a sportsman, and we understand each other thor-
oughly. Henceforth, Carstairs, we are rivals; I
have adopted her as my aunt."
"Does she know it?" inquired Pope.
"Mutual arrangement, highly satisfactory to both
parties," replied Knight, with a yawn. "Having the
gift of perpetual youth she understands the motives
and ideals of the young. She understands me. Or,
what is better still, she thinks she does. By the
way, you had better get off to bed, Carstairs. Mrs.
Ginnell is going to ask you to take her to Hampton
Court to-morrow, and she proposes to start at ten
so as to have a long day. Sorry I can't stop any
longer, but I'm about done up. Good night."
64
CHAPTER VI
IT was a fine afternoon in late spring. A lark
was singing in the sky; and the air was so soft,
with such a feeling of life and movement in
it, that Mr. Carstairs' butler, forgetting his high
office, also lifted up his voice in song as he made
his way across the fields. His song ceased suddenly
as he turned a corner of the hedge and came upon
a girl looking at him over her right shoulder.
"Afternoon, Miss Mudge," he said, with a slight
cough.
Miss Mudge waited for him to overtake her.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Markham," she said
brightly. "I'm afraid I've disturbed you. I had
no idea you were " singer."
"Not much of a singer," said Markham mod-
estly.
"There's all kinds," said Miss Mudge indulgently.
"And so long as it doesn't hurt anybody, and they
like to hear themselves sing, there's no harm done."
"Ah, you have got a happy nature," said the but-
ler, returning good for evil. "How well you are
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looking. I can't think what you do to look so
fresh."
"Do I" said Miss Mudge, turning on him sharply.
"Nothing! It's natural."
"Of course," said the other hastily; "I didn't mean
that. I was just thinking there's many a lady would
give anything to have your complexion; they'd sell
their souls for it."
"I dare say," retorted Miss Mudge; "but they
wouldn't get it for that. They'd get it cheap if
they did, some of 'em. I say, do you think there's
anything between my lady and Mr. Carstairs?"
"Eh?" said the startled butler. "Anything be-
tween No-o, I shouldn't think so. What put
that idea into your head?"
"Well, I only wondered, that's all. I don't gc
about with my eyes shut, you know."
"The guv'nor isn't class enough for Lady Pen-
rose," said Mr. Markham, shaking his head;
"though, mind you, he's a good sort. After the
families I've lived in I'm surprised at myself some-
times to think what a lot I think of him. You see,
he spent over twenty years of his life on a stool in
a bank, and he can't shake it off."
"I suppose it would cling," said Miss Mudge, with
a sigh. "Those things always do."
"Properly speaking, he's a three or four hundred
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pound a year man," said Mr. Markham judicially;
"and it takes time to get the twenty or thirty thou-
sand a year style."
"Wouldn't take me long," observed Miss Mudge,
with a bigger sigh than before.
"No; you see we've been used to it all our lives
in a manner of speaking," said Mr. Markham. "I
wish somebody'd leave me a fortune; I know what
I should do if they did."
His voice was so tender that Miss Mudge, in self-
defence, glanced somewhat hastily at a fine bed of
nettles they were passing.
"I shouldn't waste it on old Mrs. Minchin, for
one thing," continued Mr. Markham, after a side
glance at her. "And that makes me wonder whether
there is anything in what you said just now. Ever
since Lady Penrose spoke to him about that old
woman he hasn't been able to do enough for her.
He's always taking her bottles of port for her rheu-
matism. Not invalid port, mind you, but the best
stuff I have got in my cellars."
Miss Mudge, secretly disappointed at this change
of subject, murmured something about "Mr. Car-
stairs and 'Love's young dream.' '
"It comes to all of us," said the butler solemnly;
"none of us can escape it."
"Except me," said Miss Mudge. "I never could
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The Castaways
understand people falling in love with each other.
It seems so silly, so childish. Mr. Biggs was saying
to me only the other day "
"Biggs!" interrupted Mr. Markham, with some-
thing between a sniff and a scewl. "I can't stand
that fellow. Whether it's the smell of oil, or his
untidy appearance, I don't know. Have you ever
seen him with a bit of what he calls axle-grease on
the tip of his nose and a smear of dirty oil on his
cheek?"
"Never," said the delighted Miss Mudge. "He's
always been very spic-and-span when I have seen
him. Dressy, I call him. And he's such a fine driver.
He says it's because he has got a gift for engineer-
ing. I sat next to him the other day when Mr. Car-
stairs drove us over to Wimbush, and he explained
all about motor-cars to me. He says that I have
got a very quick understanding."
"Anything else?" inquired Mr. Markham sourly.
"He said a lot of silly things, of course," said
Miss Mudge, tossing her head. "But, then, men
always do. He's no worse than the others."
"He's a very worthy person, I've no doubt," said
Mr. Markham loftily. "The trouble is he is no
gentleman. Put him in a suit of overalls, and give
him a lump of cotton-waste to clean himself with,
and he is satisfied."
68
"Oh, how funny!" said his companion, with a
giggle. "Why, it's like thought-reading."
Mr. Markham turned an inquiring gaze upon her.
"Overalls and cotton-waste," explained Miss
Mudge, still giggling. "And he said, 'A second-
hand dress-suit and a serviette !' And he said some-
thing about mistakes, and serviettes and pocket-
handkerchiefs that I won't repeat."
"He's got a low mind," said the enraged butler,
breathing hard. "If he's not careful he'll get that
gifted head of his punched one day."
He stalked along in silent dudgeon until they
reached the village, and Miss Mudge, having busi-
ness to do at the drapery section of the general
shop, bade him good-bye. He had fallen a victim
at almost their first meeting, and was beginning to
realise with some concern that his was only one case
amongst many; but in his most pessimistic moments
he had never dreamed of Mr. Biggs as a rival.
While he walked home thinking of Miss Mudge,
Carstairs and Pope sat by the window in the latter's
comfortable sitting-room discussing her mistress.
The conversation had been started by Pope, who,
as secretary, adviser, and friend, was pointing out
to Carstairs the well-known difficulties encountered
in trying to run with the hare and hunt with the
hounds.
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The Castaways
"I'm going to do it, though," said Carstairs.
"Perhaps in the end I shall earn the gratitude of
both."
Pope shook his head. "You know Lady Pen-
rose's views," he said slowly.
"Some of 'em," admitted Carstairs.
"And, knowing them, you deliberately go and in-
vite those two young men down here for a week
or two," pursued Pope. "You come down a stranger
into this peaceful country spot and at once begin
to set people by the ears. You told me you liked
Talwyn."
"I like him well enough," said Carstairs.
"It's the dream of his life to marry Miss Blake,
and it's the dream of Mrs. Jardine's life that he
should," continued Pope. "Naturally the old lady
wants to do the best she can for her niece. He's
got six thousand a year and a baronetcy, and you
are going to help that deluded girl to young Pep-
low instead."
"He's fifty-five," said Carstairs, "and fifty-five
and twenty don't match. He'll live to thank me
for my efforts if he gets to hear of them. I
thought you liked the boys."
"So I do," said Pope, "so I do; but that's no
reason why I should interfere in affairs of this kind.
And I like Talwyn. My idea is to stand aside and
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see fair-play. That friend of his, Captain Toll-
hurst, told me that he had never seen Talwyn so
keen on anything in his life: He said it has made
him years younger."
"He looks fifty-five in spite of it," said Carstairs.
"No, he mustn't do it. It can't be allowed. By
my own wits and the willing aid of an intellectual
secretary I intend to forbid the banns. Besides,
I didn't invite the boys. It was my aunt."
"Handy aunt to have," murmured Pope. "They
want a little country air, I suppose? Milk and
fresh eggs, and buttercups and daisies. Eh? They
make a fuss of you and Mrs. Ginnell just to serve
their own ends."
"Very natural, too," declared Carstairs warmly.
"Why shouldn't they? And there's no deception;
Knight has been painfully frank about it. They're
both nice boys and youth should mate with youth,
Pope. Besides "
"Besides what?"
"I think that Lady Penrose is playing the tyrant.
She started with an objection to Knight, and she
won't own herself in the wrong. It shall be my
task to show her the error of her ways. I shall
enjoy it."
"Money is spoiling you, Carstairs," said Pope,
shaking his head. "At the bank I never knew a
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quieter man than yourself. In those days you were
the sort of man that couldn't say 'boh !' to a goose,
and now "
"Now I am going to say it to Lady Penrose,"
said his friend. "Is that what you mean? To tell
the truth, I like opposing her. She is a charming
woman, but she always takes it for granted that
she is going to have her own way. She's got a
queenly manner about her, Pope, that always makes
me yearn to be an emperor."
"You'll look a lot like an emperor when she
finds it out," grunted Pope. "I shouldn't like to
be in your shoes."
"Well, you've got to if anything goes wrong,"
said Carstairs, with a malicious smile. "I shall put
all the blame on you as my secretary. After all,
you are responsible for Knight. If you hadn't
scraped acquaintance with him I should never have
known him. If you will make friends with strangers
in restaurants you must put up with the conse-
quences."
"I'll have nothing to do with it," said Pope
primly. "I never interfere in other people's busi-
ness. And Talwyn told me the other day that
Miss Seacombe loses her money if she marries
without Lady Penrose's consent. Did you know
that?"
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Carstairs nodded. "I know Lady Penrose," he
said confidently. "She is one of the best-hearted
women breathing. She might use her powers as
a threat, but she would never dream of putting
them into action. She is an ornament to her sex,
and doesn't know it; an angel in expensive and
very becoming gowns. A a "
"Go on," said Pope, eying him.
"I think she has rather an amused toleration
for me, which rather rankles; and you know what
a good book-keeper I used to be?"
"First I've heard of it," said Pope, in genuine
surprise. "What about it?"
"I'm going to try and balance the account, and
help the boys at the same time. It wants diplomacy,
of course, and that's where you come in. When
I am in doubt I shall consult you; if I get into
trouble I shall put the blame on you. Now, first
for advice. What do you suggest?"
"Kidnap Lady Penrose and Mrs. Jardine, and
anchor them in the punt, properly provisioned, in
the middle of the lake," said Pope, with bitter
fluency. "Then send both couples off with Biggs
in a car to Gretna Green."
"Abolished years ago," said Carstairs. "Try
again."
Pope shrugged his shoulders and, lighting a
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cigarette with great care, sat smoking and gazing
out of the window.
"Fortunately, Lady Penrose has got the idea
that I am a mild, innocuous sort of person," said
Carstairs musingly. "She would never credit me
with harbouring sinister designs. That helps a lot.
In her mind I am cast for Simplicity and Inno-
cence."
"When are Knight and Peplow coming down?"
inquired Pope.
"Wednesday week, and the garden-party is on
Friday. If they have the sense to lie low for a
couple of days nobody will know they are here,
and there will be no backing out on the part of
our other friends at the last moment. I must have
them a day or two before, or the matter will look
too prearranged."
"A lot of good you'll do," sniffed Pope. "Lady
Penrose will see through you at once."
"They are coming as friends of my aunt," said
Carstairs. "Even if she is suspected of ulterior
motives there is no reason why I should be. And
coincidences will happen. Anyway, the young people
will have a pleasant afternoon together."
"Will they?" said Pope. "Lady Penrose will
look after that, I fancy, to say nothing of Talwyn
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and Mrs. Jardine. The old lady is feeble, but
tough."
"And I have a more ambitious project in my
mind still," said Carstairs. "We haven't seen much
of the world, old man. What do you say to a
long trip?"
"Trip?" murmured Pope.
Carstairs nodded. "I haven't got it all thought
out yet," he said slowly, "but I am thinking of
hiring a yacht in the autumn and going for a long
cruise. It's a thing I used to dream of as a young
man; and now my idea is to take these people
with me and to box them all up together for a
few months and see what happens."
"Lady Penrose won't come, if that's what you're
thinking of," said Pope.
"We'll see," said Carstairs. "I regard the yacht
as a sort of mouse-trap, which I shall bait with
Talwyn. That will make Mrs. Jardine nibble, and
probably both of them will think it an excellent plan
to get the girls away from the young men. I know
that they are both getting a little anxious."
"But aren't the boys coming?" inquired the
puzzled Pope.
"Of course; but the others won't know it until
the last moment. That is, if I play my cards
properly. Meantime, 'mum's the word.' '
75
CHAPTER VII
THE predominant note at Berstead Place
was peace. It revealed itself in the placid
waters of the lake, in the trim-clipped
maze of yew, and the clump of tall elms with its
colony of gossiping rooks; in the well-kept gardens
and the green slopes of the park. The outbuild-
ings and the yards were so peaceful that hard-
working gardeners had been known to fall asleep
there while sitting on the handles of their barrows
evolving new monstrosities in hybridisation.
The only discord in this Eden was in the bosoms
of M-essrs. Markham and Biggs. Seldom indeed
did these gentlemen indulge in direct speech, but
each knew, through the painstaking Miss Mudge,
exactly what the other thought of him. The knowl-
edge did not improve their relations, and glances,
threatening on the part of Mr. Biggs and con-
temptuous on the part of Mr. Markham, were a
source of considerable interest to their fellow-ser-
vants. The page, who regarded the butler with
a respect verging on idolatry, spent considerable
time in trying to devise ways and means of keep-
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ing the chauffeur in his place. As a beginning he
tried the raised eyebrows and icy stare of his
superior, and, strolling down to the garage one
morning in shirt-sleeves and green-baize apron,
stood watching the foe at work.
"Halloa, Albert!" said Mr. Biggs, who was pull-
ing out handfuls of grease from the gear-box and
stripping it from his fingers on to a piece of brown
paper, "how are we?"
"G'morning," said Albert distantly.
"If I'd known you were coming to pay us a
visit," said Mr. Biggs, rubbing an itching nose with
the back of a soiled wrist, "we'd have had some
toffee-balls for you. Wouldn't we Bob?"
"Or sugar-sticks," assented the second chauffeur.
"Why, what's the matter with 'is little face?"
"Got a second tooth coming through, I should
think," said Mr. Biggs. "You want to rub it, Al-
bert. Rub it with a bit o' bone, or a india-rubber
ring."
"When I want your advice I'll ask you for it,"
said the enraged Albert.
"Right-o," said Mr. Biggs good-humouredly.
"If you want to see the inside of a gear-box, now's
your time. You can't learn too much, you know.
I've been at the job for years, and I'm always
learning something fresh."
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"I don't want to learn that work," said Albert,
with an affected shudder. "It's all very well for
people who can't do anything else, but it wouldn't
do for me."
"Hark at him!" said the amazed Mr. Biggs.
"Reg'lar little poll-parrot," said Bob.
"I like to be clean," pursued Albert. "I shouldn't
like to go about smelling like a gas-works, and
leaving black marks on everything I touched."
"P'r'aps you're right, Albert," said Mr. Biggs,
who was rubbing his hands hard with a piece of
cotton-waste. "Ah, if I'd had your chances what
a man I might ha' been."
He shook his head mournfully, and taking up
the paper of grease crossed over to put it in a
bucket. His foot slipped suddenly, and, with a
startled exclamation, he threw his right arm around
Albert's neck to save himself from falling. Bend-
ing under the shock, the boy pitched face-foremost
into the parcel of grease.
"The very place I slipped on last week, Bob,"
said Mr. Biggs breathlessly. "Gave me quite a
shock. Have I hurt you, Albert?"
"P-f/" said the unfortunate youth. "P-#7"
"Lor' bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Biggs, in
startled accents. "Look what a mess he's made
of himself. How did you do it, Albert?"
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"P-w-f!" cried the boy, still blowing. "You did
it a-purpose."
"Poor little poll-parrot," said Mr. Biggs gently.
"Give me a bit of that waste, Bob, and I'll try
to clean him up a bit. He'd get into trouble if it
was known he'd been hanging round the garage
instead of getting on with his work. Keep still,
Albert!"
"I I'll tell Mr. Markham of you," said the boy,
half-crying with rage. "I'll "
"Keep your mouth shut," said Mr. Biggs, hard
at work with the cotton-waste. "How do you think
I can make a job of it while you go on talking?"
"You you'll get the sack for this," spluttered
the boy.
"Pure accident," murmured Mr. Biggs. "You
ought to be glad that you were there to save me
from a nasty fall. Are you?"
The grown-up reply that began to flow from
Albert's lips was promptly bottled up by a pad of
waste.
"Another second," said Mr. Biggs, turning to
his grinning junior, "and he would have said it
and been ashamed of himself all his life. And in
our garage, too."
"He's got no what you might call gratefulness,"
said Bob, "else he'd be glad that you'd got that
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little spot o' grease in your hand to save his nose
from damage."
"I don't expect no thanks." said Mr. Biges
r ' DO
simply. "There you are, Albert," he continued,
giving a rotary motion to the handful of waste.
"You're cleaner than I've ever seen you, now, and
your little cheeks are shining like Ribston pippins.
Any time you'd like to give us a look in we shall
be pleased to see you."
He turned to his work again, and Albert, after
fulminating in the doorway until his jaws ached,
turned towards the house in search of sympathy.
"Shouldn't wonder if Markham had something
to say about this," remarked Mr. Biggs. "He's
always ready to listen to himself talking."
He saw Markham later on, but the butler made
no sign. Calm and dignified in preparation for his
evening duties, his manner suggested an entire aloof-
ness from such earthly things as trouble-seeking
chauffeurs.
He put off this manner with his evening garb,
and rising early in the morning for a dip in the
lake, a privilege accorded by the thoughtful Car-
stairs to the few members of his staff who cared
to avail themselves of it, thought out a few pungent
remarks to improve Mr. Biggs's circulation before
entering the water. He saw the chauffeur in front
The Castaways
of him, and, quickening his pace, entered the dress-
ing-shed almost at the same time.
"I want a word with you," he said severely.
"Fire away," said Mr. Biggs, removing his coat
and hanging it on a nail. "It's always a pleasure
to hear you talk. I heard you talking to one o'
the footmen the other day, and it was all I could
do to keep from laughing."
"I want to know what you mean by messing
the page-boy's face up yesterday," said the butler
sternly.
"Poor little chap !" said Mr. Biggs, with a remi-
niscent smile. "He did look funny; but o' course
it was quite an accident. It would have been just
the same if you'd been standing there instead of
him."
The butler choked.
"I don't think so," he said, at last.
"Only I shouldn't have wiped it off for you,"
continued Mr. Biggs. "Albert's a nice little chap,
only he's got wrong ideas. No ambition; he wants
to be a butler when he grows up."
"I don't want to talk to you, my man," said
the butler, in superior accents.
"Why, only just now you said you did," retorted
Mr. Biggs. "You don't seem to know your own
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mind for two minutes together. Too much cellar-
work, I suppose."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded the
butler fiercely.
"Putting the wine away," replied Mr. Biggs
darkly. "The smell of it confuses the intellect.
At least, I suppose it's the smell."
"Next time you interfere with the boy I shall
report you to the guv'nor," declared Mr. Mark-
ham.
"Poor Albert!" said Mr. Biggs. "He wants to
be a butler: a tell-tale. If he had any self-respect
he'd want to be a man that uses his hands and
his head. A chauffeur, say, like me. I can drive
a car, and I can mend a car. If a car goes wrong
on the road I can jump off and find out what it is.
If it's a small thing I can put it right on the road;
if it's a big thing, and I've got the tools, I can put
it right in the garage. If it's "
"What is it?" inquired the butler, with a dis-
dainful smile. "An anthem?"
"I was telling you about a man that can use his
hands," retorted Mr. Biggs.
"I can use my hands a bit," said the butler, whose
temper was beginning to take control.
"To wipe a hot plate with a napkin?" inquired
the other.
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The Castaways
"Or to knock a little sense into thick heads,'*
said the butler, fastening his bathing-dress as he
emerged from the shed. "If it was not for ray
position I'd do it now."
"Never mind about your position," entreated
Mr. Biggs, following him up. "There couldn't be
a finer morning for it, or a softer place for you
to fall on. Why, it might ha' been made for it."
The butler turned a deaf ear, and rubbing his
arms started to walk towards the diving-board.
Mr. Biggs gave vent to a series of explosive
chuckles.
"Are you making that silly noise at me?" de-
manded the other, turning and clenching his fists.
"What do you mean by 'silly noise'?" inquired
Mr. Biggs, advancing upon him.
"A noise like a sheep with a cold," said the
butler promptly, "or an idiot boy that's lost his
ma."
"I suppose talking is all you can do," sneered
Mr. Biggs, and thrust his lean jaw almost into
the other's face.
The temptation was too great, and Mr. Mark-
ham, forgetting his dignity, his situation, and above
all the example expected of him by his inferiors,
struck it. Mr. Biggs, with surprising suddenness,
dropped to the ground.
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The Castaways
It was a smart blow, and the effect on Car-
stairs, who was leaning out of his bedroom window
to inhale the morning air, was instantaneous. The
men were some distance away, but the powerful
binoculars in the drawer of his dressing-table were
at his eyes and focused in five seconds. Then con-
science pricked him, and he dashed out of his room
in search of Pope. The latter, querulous in pink
pyjamas and rubbing the sleep from h's eyes, fol-
lowed Carstairs to his room with his own glasses
dangling from his arm.
"I thought you ought to see it," said Carstairs,
who had got his glasses in action again. "I may
want your advice as to how to treat the matter."
"Disgraceful!" grunted Pope, leaning out of the
window. "Shcking! Markham's going to win
this."
"Biggs," said Carstairs.
"Markham's got the science," said Pope. "Ha !
Bra H'm, h-mm!"
"I think I had better run down and stop it,"
said Garstairs, with his glasses glued to his eyes.
"You can't run about in pyjamas," said Pope
hastily. "It wouldn't do."
"I suppose it wouldn't," said the other. "By
Jove! Markham's got it that time."
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The Castaways
"Left hook," said Pope. "It's jolted him, but
he isn't done yet."
Both gentlemen held their breath as the ^butler
rose staggering to his feet and, moved by a com-
mon impulse, took the opportunity to wipe their
glasses.
"Markham's going in for too much footwork,'*
grunted Pope. "Seems to think it's a ballet."
He put up his glasses again, and both gentle-
men sternly surveyed the stricken field and the two
men who were putting so beautiful a morning to
so base a purpose.
"This has got to be stopped," said Carstairs,
five minutes later. "I won't allow it. It mustn't
go on. It I can't see through your elbow, you
know, Pope."
Pope apologised. "Oh, pretty!" he exclaimed.
"Very pretty!"
"Yes, but Biggs has got him again," said Car-
stairs. "He's too strong for him. Just throw on
a few things and run down to them, old man."
"Go yourself," said his faithful secretary.
"Perhaps it is best to ignore it," sighed Car-
stairs. "Perhaps 0h, well done, Biggs. Well
done."
The glasses remained motionless, fixed on a
figure that lay on its back with a slack head and
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drawn up knees. Then they followed slowly the
movements of Mr. Biggs as, after a glance at the
prostrate butler, he bent over the edge of the water
and proceeded to bathe his face.
"You've got pretty servants, upon my word,"
said Pope, as the chauffeur, having) finished his
ablutions, helped his enemy to his feet and steadied
him into the shed. "What are you going to do
about it?"
"Same as you would," said Carstairs; "give
Markham a rise, but without telling him what it
is for. He has given you a very enjoyable ten
minutes."
Mr. Pope grinned confusedly, and, with some
indistinct reference to a pot and a kettle, girded
up his pink pyjamas and stalked out of the room.
Unaware of his employer's benevolent ideas, Mr.
Markham spent the first part of the morning
secreted in his sanctum with a looking-glass for
sole company. Absence from duty was explained
by that ever-useful complaint known as a bilious
attack. The seventy-ninth peep into the glass at
his right eye seemed to indicate that the illness
would be of unheard-of duration.
At ten o'clock, Carstairs and Pope having gone
off motoring for the morning, he quitted his lair
and, taking advantage of all the cover that offered,
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steered an erratic course for the village. He had
heard of black eyes being painted, and, with a vague
hope that Mr. William Higgins, house-painter and
decorator, might be equal to the occasion, called at
his place of business.
He went round to the back of the house, and
Mr. Higgins, who was sitting on a broken chair
smoking a short clay and regarding the five hens
kept in a wire entanglement patched with string,
rose to receive him. A slight but uncontrollable
start he attributed to lumbago.
Mr. Markham plunged straight into business.
"Can you paint a black eye?" he inquired abruptly.
Mr. Higgins, who had managed to exist for fifty
odd years by never declining a job, and always in-
sisting upon being paid, whatever happened, eyed
him calmly.
"I've done scores of 'em," he asseverated.
"And keep your mouth shut?" inquired the
relieved butler.
"I shouldn't be in the position what I am in
if I couldn't," said Mr. Higgins, with quiet dignity.
" 'Spose you take a seat while I mix up one or
two shades for you to pick from."
He indicated the broken chair, and, fetching some
pots and colours from an outhouse, seated himself
on a box and mixed up paints with a stick of fire-
8?
The Castaways
wood. Satisfied at last, he extricated a piece of
rough board from a pile of litter and tried the
colours on it.
"They're all good," he said simply. "Take your
pick."
He held the board beside the butler's face, rais-
ing it slowly to give each tint its due appraisement.
The selection made, he loaded his brush. Mr.
Markham started back.
"I'm not a wall," he snapped. "You want a
camel-hair brush."
"You can have a smaller brush if you like,"
said Mr. Higgins grudgingly, "but camel-'air, no.
It wouldn't do me justice."
He disappeared into the house, and, returning
with a smaller brush, madt the butler close his
eye, and started operations.
"Feels very stiff," said the butler, when he had
finished.
"That shows it's a good job," said the artist.
"If it didn't feel stiff I should know as there was
something wrong. I only wish I'd got a bit o'
looking-glass so as you could see yourself."
His gaze was so admiring that the butler's spirits
rose.
"Give it a chance to dry even," said Mr. Higgins,
pocketing his fee; "don't get laughing, or whistling,
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or winking. It'll wear off gradual, and nobody'll
ever even dream you'd done anything to be ashamed
of. I don't want to talk conceited, but it looks
better than the other eye. More life-like."
Mr. Markham went home in the same furtive
fashion that he had left it, his first two attempts
to "look the whole world in the face" not having
been as successful as the encomiums of Mr. Higgins
had led him to expect. He managed to reach his
quarters unobserved, and, after one horrified glance
in the glass, threw himself into a chair and tried
to think out his position.
It was clear that a black eye would outlive a
bilious attack, and, if he absented himself from his
duties for long, he would have to submit to medi-
cal treatment. He resolved to return to duty that
evening, and, if awkward questions were asked, to
attribute his condition to an encounter in the dark
with a knob on his bedstead.
He took up his work in the dining-room that
evening, and Mrs. Ginnell, who had received a full
account of his misadventure from Carstairs, gazed
at him in undisguised amazement. She transferred
her gaze to Pope and Carstairs, who, in endeavour-
ing to avoid her eye, met that of the butler. Con-
versation, at first disjointed, ceased altogether be-
fore the spectacle of a butler whose sudden increase
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of dignity was obviously inspired to counteract the
possession of a salmon - coloured eye. A slight
squeaking noise, which everybody agreed to disre-
gard, escaped from Mrs. Ginnell.
"Soup's good," said Pope, after a painful pause.
"Excellent," agreed Carstairs. "I think
Mrs. Ginnell was offending again. She ended
with a moan, and her spoon slipped into her soup
as she arose hurriedly and made for the door.
"Not well," she gasped, as she passed. "Head-
ache don't trouble."
The two gentlemen resumed their seats, but the
disdainful glance of the butler as he returned from
the door was too much for Pope. He got up again.
"Headache," he murmured brokenly, with a deplor-
able lack of invention. "Not well," and, plunging
at the door, disappeared.
Carstairs finished his meal alone, thankful that
the simmering Markham kept out of view behind
his chair. He took a cup of coffee and lit a cigar,
starting as he glimpsed the butler's eye again.
"Markham," he said suddenly.
"Yes, sir."
"Go and wash that stuff off your eye at once;
you'll get blood-poisoning if you are not careful.
If it looks bad to-morrow, go and see a doctor."
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," said the butler.
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He poured out a glass of port with grateful care,
and went off to his room rejoicing.
"If he isn't a gentleman," he murmured, as he
busied himself with cleansing the paint off, "he's
the best imitation I've ever seen. Also, he's a
sportsman."
CHAPTER VIII
MRS. GINNELL, metaphorically speaking,
received Mr. Knight with open arms,
Mr. Peplow, who was standing by wait-
ing to be introduced, being almost scandalised at
the warmth of their greeting. The correctness of
his own left nothing to be desired.
"A great friend of mine," explained Mr. Knight.
"I've been looking after him for years. I don't
know where he would have been without me."
"I should have been all right," declared Mr.
Peplow indignantly.
"Gratitude was never his strong point," sighed
Knight, turning to Mrs. Ginnell. "Didn't I get
my adopted aunt to give you an invitation down
here, so that you could hang around Miss Blake?"
he demanded. "Isn't that looking after you?"
"Come in to lunch," interrupted Mrs. Ginnell,
with a laugh. "The others are out on the car;
Mr. Pope is learning to drive."
"I should like to see the performance," said
Knight, seating himself. "Is it his first lesson?"
"Third," said Mrs. Ginnell. "He's got the new
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car to-day; something went wrong with the other.
He said that the steering-gear failed suddenly."
"What did Biggs say?" inquired Knight, with a
huge grin.
"Said that Mr. Pope kept his head wonder-
fully and got a half-sovereign," said Mrs. Ginnell,
with a twinkle.
"Biggs's own steering-gear is all right, there's
no doubt about that," said Knight. "Pity I wasn't
on the car; it would have taken a tenner to keep
my mouth shut. Anybody hurt?"
Mrs. Ginnell shook her kead.
"Sir Edward Talwyn was a little bit shaken,"
she replied, "but there was no harm done."
"Pity," remarked Knight. "If there had been
Biggs would have got more than a half-sovereign
from Freddie. Do you see much of him?"
"He comes over sometimes," said Mrs. Ginnell.
"His friend, Captain Tollhurst, is staying with him,
and they generally come together."
"What sort of man is Tollhurst?" inquired
Knight sharply.
"He has travelled a great deal, and had ad-
ventures all over the world," said Mrs. Ginnell.
"Mr. Pope generally sits listening to him with his
mouth open. You'll see him on Friday."
Mr. Knight pondered.
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"Young?" he inquired. "Good-looking?"
"Thirty-five to forty, I should think. I shouldn't
call him good-looking."
"Good-looking as I am?"
"Better," replied Mrs. Ginnell, without hesita-
tion.
"If you want to laugh, Freddie, laugh," said
Mr. Knight severely. "Don't make that silly noise
in your plate. When you know Mrs. Ginnell better
you'll know that she often says the opposite to what
she means. It's her idea of a joke."
"Quite true," murmured the repentant Mrs.
Ginnell, beaming at him.
"Your apology is accepted," said Knight.
"Freddie, I am waiting for yours."
"Anything you like," said Mr. Peplow, who was
attacking his food with great satisfaction. "Make
it up yourself, and I'll sign it."
He finished an excellent meal with a gentle sigh
of satisfaction, and at Mrs. Ginnell's suggestion
adjourned to the terrace for coffee and cigarettes.
"I trust you are being very nice to Lady Pen-
rose," said Knight to his hostess.
"It is a very easy thing to do," she replied.
'"I like her very much."
"And Mrs. Jardine?" said Mr. Peplow.
"And Mrs. Jardine," assented Mrs. Ginnell.
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"I have to like her because I like her niece, Effie
Blake, so much."
"Everybody does," said Mr. Peplow, with a
gratified flush.
"What they will both say when they discover
that I know you I can't imagine," continued Mrs.
Ginnell.
"They will be surprised," said Knight, "not to
say suspicious. Let me see, where did we meet?
Mentone, wasn't it?"
"Let's leave it," said Mrs. Ginnell. "Don't let's
take up troubles before they come. Very often they
don't come at all."
"I ought to have left Freddie behind," said
Knight thoughtfully. "Two is rather overdoing
it. But if you had seen the tears well up in his
beautiful eyes when I suggested it "
"Anybody would think this was your place," said
the irritated Mr. Peplow.
"It's my aunt," said Knight. "I adopted her
in the first instance to serve my own ends. After
that I adopted her for herself."
"It's what I should have done in the first place,"
said Mr. Peplow unexpectedly.
Mrs. Ginnell rose.
"I don't want to be seen blushing at my time
of life," she remarked. "Come round to the stables
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and see my new pony and cart. James gave it to
me last week."
"And now," said Knight, taking her arm after
the pony had been duly admired, "come for a
stroll with me 'neath yon lofty elms and talk busi-
ness. What do you think Peplow ought to wear
on Friday? And shall we discover ourselves at
once, or mix with the crowd and be picked up
later, like a couple of lovely shells on a beach?"
"Later, I think," said Mrs. Ginnell. "There will
be a lot of people here, and you can emerge from
them after a time and renew your acquaintance with
Lady Penrose."
Mr. Knight nodded, and carried out his instruc-
tions so thoroughly that he was quite disconcerted
at the measure of his success. With Mr. Peplow
by his side on Friday afternoon he appeared from
the direction of the lake, and, observing the fig-
ure of Carstairs on the terrace, bore swiftly down
upon it.
"Having a good time?" inquired Carstairs.
Mr. Knight looked at Mr. Peplow. Mr. Pep-
low sighed.
"Excellent," said Knight bitterly. "This is too
bad of you, Carstairs. It really is."
Carstairs raised his eyebrows.
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"Of course, it's not exactly your fault," continued
Knight. "We don't say that, do we, Freddie?"
Mr. Peplow, who was looking somewhat dis-
agreeable, hesitated. "It's his lake, or pond, or
whatever you call it," he said, at length.
"So it is," said Knight, nodding, "so it is. It
ought to be filled up. It's a man-trap, a positive
man-trap."
"You used to admire it," said Carstairs.
"We all have our weak moments," said Knight.
"My settled opinion now is that it spoils the place.
If it belonged to me I should either have it filled
up or keep women-eating crocodiles in it."
"It might spoil the bathing," said Carstairs. "But
what is the matter?"
"Matter is we've been hurt in our finest feel-
ings," said Knight. "We've been laughed at. We've
been held up to the derision of Tollhursts and
Talwyns. Not to mention others. I thought this
garden-party was got up for us."
"It was partly," said Carstairs, with a smile.
"Listen to him, Freddie," said Knight.
"I am," responded his friend.
"I've never been made such a fool of in my life,"
continued Knight. "I came down here to see Miss
Seacombe, and Freddie came to see Miss Blake,
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and when they are not gummed to the dragons we
are."
"Gummed?" repeated the amazed Carstairs.
"Dragons?"
"Lady Penrose and Mrs. Jardine," explained
Mr. Peplow while his friend was taking breath.
"Mrs. Jardine is the worst she is an old fortune-
hunter. When she is not with Miss Blake the
poor girl has always got Talwyn at her elbow."
Carstairs surveyed him mildly. "But what has
all this got to do with my lake?" he inquired.
"We've been on it," said Knight savagely. "I
might have guessed Lady Penrose was up to some-
thing or other; she was so agreeable. Seemed quite
pleased to see me. She asked us to take her and
Mrs. Jardine on the lake for five minutes, and
we've been sculling round and round that idiotic
little duck-pond for hours."
"Seemed like a lifetime," said Peplow dismally.
"Jack had to read poetry to Lady Penrose while
I rowed."
"She brought the book with her," said Knight,
reddening. "She did it on purpose; she must have
known I was coming. She's been laughing at me
ail the time. I could see it in her eye."
"They've all been laughing at us, I believe," said
Peplow. "Talwyn was looking quite intelligent. I
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must say I never heard the 'Lady of Shalott' read
as Jack read it. Never! Sounded more like the
'Charge of the Light Brigade.' "
"Never felt such a fool in my life," affirmed
Knight. "And that fellow Tollhurst had the im-
pudence to walk along following the boat, with
Miss Seacombe."
"Both smiling, and pretending not to," added
Mr. Peplow solemnly. "I never felt so sorry for
Jack in all my life. He looked a perfect fool."
"You mind your own business," said his friend
sharply.
"You can't expect to have it all your own way,"
said Carstairs. "Lady Penrose was too smart for
you that time. You should have entered into the
joke and read the poem soulfully. I am disap-
pointed in you, Knight."
"I thought he was on the wrong tack, too," said
Mr. Peplow. "I did try to wink once, but Mrs.
Jardine got it, and I had to pretend I'd got a fly
in my eye."
"Well, run away and play," said Carstairs, in-
terrupting a choice remark of Knight's. "You
mustn't be seen weeping on my shoulder. Don't
bother the girls with your attentions; make your-
selves agreeable to other people."
He turned away, and Knight and Peplow after
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a moment's hesitation set off to make themselves
agreeable to such unfortunates as might have the
ill-luck to encounter them. Carstairs stood smiling,
and then, seeing Lady Penrose and Mrs. Jardine
approaching from the opposite direction, went to
meet them.
"I want some tea," said Lady Penrose, as he
turned and walked with them. "We have been
on the water, and come off hungry."
"Rowing?" asked Carstairs.
Lady Penrose shook her head. "No, I have
been sitting in the lap of luxury listening to poetry,"
she said, with a faint smile. "Mr. Knight read the
*Lady of Shalott' to us. It seemed so appropriate
to float on the placid waters of the lake and have
that read to one. Wasn't it sweet?"
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Jardine dubiously,
"but I thought that Mr. Knight hadn't quite caught
the spirit of it."
"M-m," said Lady Penrose, as Carstairs led
them to chairs. "I enjoyed it tremendously; sur-
roundings, perhaps."
"I never suspected Knight of a feeling for
poetry," said Carstairs innocently. "I thought he
was quite an out-of-door man. But it is never safe
to judge by appearances. Did he volunteer?"
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The Castaways
"Not exactly," said Lady Penrose. "Yes, two
lumps, please. Oh, here comes the Baron!"
"Baron!" repeated Carstairs.
"Mrs. Jardine always refers to Captain Toll-
hurst as Baron Munchausen, for some reason," ex-
plained Lady Penrose.
"Isabel! I never do," said the justly shocked
Mrs. Jardine.
"Well, you always know whom I mean when I
do," replied her friend.
"Quite a different thing," said Mrs. Jardine
primly as the unsuspecting captain came towards
them, followed by Pope, and sat down at the next
table.
"I saw you on the water, Lady Penrose," he
said, leaning towards her with a significant smile.
"I am fond of the water, especially when some-
body else does the hard work," was the reply.
"Not much hard work on that water," said the
captain smiling. "I should like to take you canoe-
ing on the rapids, Lady Penrose."
"I thought they were dangerous," said Lady
Penrose sweetly.
"We haven't all got your courage, Captain Toll-
hurst," said Mrs. Jardine.
"No question of courage, I assure you," said
the captain modestly. "A little nerve, perhaps."
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"Weil, you've got that, Tollhurst," said the ad-
miring Pope. "In the matter of nerve I should
think you would be hard to beat. Tell them about
the tiger you shot. The one that got you down,
I mean. It made me go cold all over."
"Do tell us, Captain Tollhurst," said Lady Pen-
rose languidly. "I am so warm."
"Oh, it was nothing," said the captain,with a slight
laugh. "Pope happened to get on the subject of
tigers this afternoon, and it reminded me. Brute
sprang out on me from the jungle and knocked me
over, and I shot it from my pocket with a revolver."
"Fancy!" said Pope, with the air of a showman.
"Through his pocket. He hadn't time to draw."
"Must have seemed like a conjuring trick to the
poor thing," said Lady Penrose. "Was it hurt?"
"Smashed its jaw," said Pope, speaking for the
captain. "His second shot killed it."
"How dreadful!" said Lady Penrose, with a care-
less shudder. "I'm so fond of animals. I belong
to the Society, you know."
"Been more dreadful if it had killed Tollhurst,"
said Pope, staring at her.
"Yes," said Lady Penrose reflectively as Captain
Tollhurst raised his cup and took a couple of hasty
gulps. "Yes, I suppose it would."
102
CHAPTER IX
THERE was a little lull in the conversation,
of which Lady Penrose, gazing dreamily
at the landscape, seemed serenely uncon-
scious. It was broken by Mr. Pope paying, in low
tones, a compliment to the perfections of the tea-
cake he was consuming.
"Somebody is in a hurry," said Carstairs, looking
round at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Why, Miss Blake !"
The girl, who had appeared suddenly round the
side of the house, walking at a tremendous pace,
took a laughing breath, and, throwing herself into
a chair, pressed her hand to her side and said "Oh 1"
"What is the matter, Effie?" exclaimed Mrs.
Jardine.
"Oh!" said Miss Blake again. "Oh my!" she
added.
Miss Seacombe appeared at that moment, also
walking with what Mrs. Jardine considered unfem-
inine rapidity; the two girls exchanged glances and
laughed.
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The Castaways
"What have you been doing?" demanded Mrs.
Jardine.
Miss Blake's dark eyes twinkled demurely.
"Nothing," she replied softly.
"We've had a walking-race with Sir Edward,"
explained Miss Seacombe. "Effie won."
"Walking race?" repeated Mrs. Jardine, rising
and looking about her. "On a hot day like this?
Where is Sir Edward?"
Miss Blake shook her head. "He's a bad third,"
she said, smiling. "He is doing his best, but I don't
think he is in very good condition. Oh, here he
comes. Poor man!"
A little chorus of sympathy greeted Sir Edward
and added to his annoyance. He paused as he
reached the group, and, straightening his tall, wil-
lowy figure, essayed a smile. His hat was in his
hand, and exercise on a hot day had played havoc
with the thin locks trained across the top of his
head.
"Oh, Sir Edward," exclaimed Mrs. Jardine, in
great concern ; "how inadvisable to make these girls
run on such a hot day! But there young men
never will be reasonable."
"Exercise," replied Talwyn, with an effort. "I
I've quite en enjoyed it. I am glad I didn't win,
though ; it wouldn't have been polite."
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The Castaways
"It was easy for you to be polite in this case,"
murmured Miss Blake, as he sank into a chair and
wiped his hot face. "What are you smiling at?"
"Nothing," said Talwyn feebly.
"If you mean to suggest that you let us win," said
the justly indignant Miss Blake, "it's disgraceful."
"I didn't say so," muttered Talwyn defensively.
"It's men all over," continued the experienced
maiden. "They always pretend that they are supe-
rior in everything. A woman can do anything that
a man can do. Mind that !"
"And do it better," added Miss Seacombe, with
a challenging glance around.
"We simply ran away from him," declared her
friend.
"Ah! there you are," said Talwyn. "You you
oughtn't to have run in a walking-match, you know."
Miss Seacombe put her cup and saucer down with
a little crash. "O-oh!" she gasped. "The idea!
We'll have it over again, Effie, and Captain Toll-
hurst and Mr. Pope shall umpire. Come along,
Sir Edward."
A faint remark of Mr. Pope's concerning the heat
passed unnoticed. The girls rose and stood waiting,
and Talwyn, tugging at the ends of his long, droop-
ing moustache, followed suit.
"Effie!" said Mrs. Jardine sharply. "I won't
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have such nonsense. It is much too hot, and be-
sides "
"Sir Edward wants to," said her niece. "Don't
you, Sir Edward?"
"Of course," said Talwyn; "if you wish it. And
if you don't think it is too hot for you."
"Go ahead," breathed Tollhurst in his ear. "I'll
disqualify 'em. Come along, Pope," he added
loudly.
"How absurd!" said Mrs. Jardine, as competitors
and umpires moved off. "Really I feel quite an-
noyed with Effie. I don't know what young women
of the present day are coming to. I don't, indeed."
Carstairs shook his head in sympathy. "Don't
worry, Mrs. Jardine," he said gently, "I feel sure
she will win again."
"Win!" repeated the perturbed lady. "Win! I
don't mind a scrap whether she wins or not. That
is not troubling me at all. Poor Sir Edward," she
added, turning to Lady Penrose. "Such a good-
natured man. Most unselfish."
"It is hard work for a man of his age," said Car-
stairs. "Why didn't they challenge the boys ? They
would have enjoyed it."
"Boys!" repeated Mrs. Jardine, with lifted eye-
brows.
"Knight and Peplow," explained Carstairs. "The
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two young men who are staying here. You know
them slightly, I think."
Mrs. Jardine admitted the soft impeachment by
a faint sniff. "Very slightly," she said, after a pause.
"Have you known the boys, as you call them, for
long, Mr. Carstairs?" inquired Lady Penrose.
"Some time," said Carstairs, with nicely gradu-
ated truthfulness. "Knight is a great friend of my
aunt's. Nice bright lads, I think."
"Lads !" exclaimed Mrs. Jardine.
"They seem like it to my advanced years," said
Carstairs, with a grimace. "After all, they are not
much more, are they ? I suppose they have deserted
the ladies in favour of a little exercise. Young men
prefer sport even to reading poetry to the most
charming of audiences."
Lady Penrose laughed. "I had an idea that they
were rather fond of ladies' society," she said.
"Oh, they are polite and attentive and all that
sort of thing, of course," said Carstairs carelessly;
"but in their heart of hearts they prefer cricket.
I know that I did."
"And don't you?" inquired Lady Penrose.
"Time has affected my tastes, as no doubt it will
affect theirs," was the reply. "In another ten years
or so they will probably be thinking of marrying."
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The Castaways
"It is possible that they are thinking of it already,"
said Mrs. Jardine primly.
Carstairs shook his head. "Not at their age,"
he said decidedly. "They have their way to make
yet."
"Young men don't always think of that," retorted
Mrs. Jardine tartly.
"True," said Carstairs. "True. You are quite
right. I suppose half the misery in the world is
caused by rash and improvident marriages."
"And the other half, Mr. Carstairs?" said Lady
Penrose languidly.
"By not marrying at all."
Mrs. Jardine suppressed a startled little cough,
and endeavoured, but in vain, to exchange glances
with her friend. She returned to the subject in
hand.
"Young people are very apt to form foolish at-
tachments," she said, shaking her head. "One might
call them entanglements."
Carstairs nodded wisely. "Just so," he said
slowly. "Young people are naturally impetuous.
But there are easy cures for the most desperate
cases, I think."
"Cures?" said Mrs. Jardine.
"Change of scene," said Carstairs confidently,
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"fresh interests, other affinities. They soon for-
get."
Lady Penrose regarded him with amusement:.
"Dear me ! What a lot of experience you must
have had!" she murmured.
"I never had more than a month's holiday, you
know," he reminded her. "At the most dangerous
age I only had a fortnight."
"And you found that sufficient for purposes of
obliteration?"
"I dare say it would have been," said Carstairs.
"And how long would you give yourself now?"
Carstairs looked up, and their eyes met. "Trip
round the world, I think," he said, with marked
deliberation.
Lady Penrose gave a slight laugh. "You are
improving," she said.
"And, of course, even that might not be success-
ful," said Carstairs musingly.
"It might not," said Lady Penrose, who found
Mrs. Jardine's expression somewhat trying. "Still,
it is no good taking up trouble before it comes."
"Let us hope it will not come," said Carstairs
piously. "The trouble part, I mean."
"Here comes Sir Edward," said Lady Penrose,
with an abrupt change of subject. "He must have
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won, I think; he is looking very pleased with him-
self."
"No," said Talwyn, with an effort to look dis-
comfited, "I didn't win. Too bad. I was disquali-
fied almost at the start. Pope and Tollhurst were
both against me, so I had to retire. They wouldn't
listen to me."
Mrs. Jardine made a slight noise, intended for
sympathy. "Where are the others?" she inquired.
Talwyn's grin would not be denied. "Still rac-
ing," he said, in an indistinct voice, and covered
his mouth with his hand.
He lit a cigarette, and leaned back in his chair
with the air of a man who had earned his rest.
"Very stiff, Pope and Tollhurst," he remarked.
"No arguing with them."
"But why didn't the ladies retire when you were
disqualified?" inquired Carstairs.
Talwyn suddenly caressed his moustache again.
"I was a little way behind," he said, with an effort.
"Perhaps they didn't know."
"Poor things!" said Lady Penrose indignantly.
"Straining every nerve to beat a man who is lolling
in an easy chair, smoking."
"They're very keen," said Talwyn. "It was a
pleasure to see them. Both of them looking straight
to their front and slogging away for all they were
no
The Castaways
worth. Pope and Tollhurst had to trot to keep up
with them. Pope looked as though he might have
a temperature."
He gave a little sigh of satisfaction, and, stretch-
ing out his legs, sat gazing at his boots. "As a
matter of fact," he said, after an interval, "I never
was very fond of the strenuous life. I've had to
live it when travelling sometimes, but it was from
necessity, not choice."
"At our age " began Carstairs.
"I was always like it," interrupted Talwyn hastily.
Carstairs eyed him thoughtfully. "Do you like
shipboard?" he inquired. "There's not much hard
work there. I've been thinking lately I've
been wondering whether I wouldn't go for a cruise."
"P. and O. !" said Talwyn decidedly. "You can't
beat it."
"I was thinking of something different," said Car-
stairs. "My idea was a yacht. If I could get a
few friends to come with me and keep me company,
I thiak it would be nice to hire a steam yacht and
go cruising at our pleasure. What do you think?"
"Ripping!" ejaculated the other. "If you could
get the right people," he added, with a glance at
Mrs. Jardine.
"Everything depends upon that, of course," said
in
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Carstairs. "If Lady Penrose and Mrs. Jardine
would do me the honour "
The two ladies looked at each other in surprise.
It is one thing to go to a friend's house and drink a
cup of tea, but a cruise a long cruise, perhaps!
Their thoughts flew to clothes.
"Would you be away for long?" inquired Lady
Penrose.
"As long as you like," was the reply. A reply
which set Talwyn and Mrs. Jardine gazing at each
other.
"When do you propose to start?" asked Lady
Penrose.
"October, I thought. Have the summer here and
go South for the winter."
"It sounds delightful," said Mrs. Jardine, with
another glance at Talwyn. "I suppose my niece is
included in the invitation?"
"Of course," said Carstairs; "and Miss Sea-
combe."
"She can't go unless I go," said Lady Penrose
thoughtfully.
"Exactly," said Carstairs.
Lady Penrose coloured a little. "It is very kind
of you," she said slowly. "I must think it over."
"We will both think it over, if we may," said
Mrs. Jardine. "It is very kind of you, Mr. Car-
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stairs. So far as I am concerned the proposal is
most tempting."
"Noise heard without," said Talwyn suddenly,
with an uneasy attempt at facetiousness.
"It is Effie, principally," said Mrs. Jardine, in
resigned accents.
Miss Blake's voice was certainly high, but so also
was Miss Seacombe's. An apologetic, low-toned
rumble appeared to belong to Messrs. Tollhurst and
Pope. Talwyn shifted uneasily in his chair.
"Here is the athlete !" exclaimed Miss Blake,
coming up and regarding him fixedly.
"I was disqualified," murmured Talwyn, rising.
Miss Blake wiped her hot face and turned to her
friend, scorning to notice the amused glances that
were passing between the men. Her own expression
reminded one of a cat that has lost a particularly
fine mouse through its own stupidity.
"Who won?" inquired the venturesome Talwyn.
Miss Blake's face took on a deeper shade, but she
made no reply.
"We had to disqualify 'em both," said Pope, in
tones of oily regret. "And within twenty yards of
the finish. Awful pity."
"Why didn't you let us know that Sir Edward
had given up?" demanded Miss Seacombe.
"Disqualified," corrected Talwyn.
The Castaways
"It's not usual," said Pope. "There is no reason
for telling the other competitors. It is never done."
"Never," corroborated Tollhurst. "What good
would it have done you?"
"Might have put you off your stroke," said Pope.
"You were walking splendidly at the time. It was
a pleasure to watch you. I quite enjoyed it."
"I've no doubt," said Miss Blake bitterly. "That
is men all over," she added cryptically.
She threw herself into a chair, and after a slight
struggle with herself accepted a glass of iced lem-
onade from the hands of Carstairs. A suggestion
from Pope that the race should be walked over
again with other umpires was received with silent
disdain.
"Been having a most interesting conversation
while you were amusing yourselves," said Talwyn
to Pope. "Carstairs is talking of chartering a yacht
and taking us all to foreign climes."
"O-oh!" said Miss Blake, clasping her hands and
turning on Carstairs a smile that dazzled him. "If
all men were like him !"
"Even only a little bit like him," said Miss Sea-
combe, with a hostile glance at the other three.
"Where are we going? when do we start?" in-
quired Miss Blake, turning to Carstairs again.
"There is nothing settled yet," said Mrs. Jardine.
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"Mr. Carstairs has only just mentioned it, and I
am not sure that we can go. Not at all sure."
"I am going," said her niece decisively. "If I
can't go as a passenger, I shall go as a stowaway.
But you are a splendid sailor, aunt, and a voyage
would do you good. You haven't been looking quite
yourself for a long time."
"I'm well enough, thank you," retorted Mrs.
Jardine.
"And it would do me good," continued Miss
Blake. "I have not said anything about it, but for
some time past It is not a laughing matter,
Mr. Pope."
"Sorry," said the offender humbly. "You look
the picture of health. And the way you walk!"
"Appearances are deceptive," said Miss Blake
coldly.
"If your health is in inverse ratio to your ap-
pearance, and performances, you ought to see a
doctor," said Pope solemnly.
"Three doctors," said 'Carstairs, regarding her
closely.
"I am not going to quarrel with you," said Miss
Blake, smiling at him. "Do come and sit here and
tell me all about it. Is Mrs. Ginnell coming?"
"Most certainly if we go. She is quite enthu-
siastic about it."
The Castaways
"If we go!" repeated Miss Blake.
"We don't care to go alone," said Carstairs.
"You must talk to Mrs. Jardine about it. Talk to
her about your health. I fancy from her manner
that she does not quite realise what a serious con-
dition you are in. A long voyage, with pleasant
society, might restore you. And, of course, we will
take a doctor."
116
CHAPTER X
"X IT THAT is all this talk about a yacht?"
V/^/ inquired Knight, as they sat smoking
in Pope's room after dinner that night.
"Yacht?" said Carstairs, looking up.
"Thing that floats on the water and is propelled
by sails or steam," said Knight dryly.
"I've read of 'em," said Pope, tenderly removing
the band from a fat cigar. "In fact, I have occa-
sionally seen them. Graceful things, most of them.
Sit the water so well. There is something about a
yacht "
"Yes, I know," interrupted Knight. "That's just
what I want to get at. What is all this about a
yacht?"
"I had an idea of hiring one," said Carstairs
mildly, "and sailing away to distant solitudes in
search f peace."
"Far from the young and their noisy methods,"
added Pope, with a grin.
"Curious thing is, they haven't said anything to
us about it," said Knight, with a perplexed look at
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Peplow. "What does it mean, Freddie any idea?"
Mr. Peplow coughed.
"It's a perfect bombshell," pursued Knight. "It
has blown all my arrangements to the winds. I was
going to Scotland for two or three months in the
autumn to stay with an uncle. This will be the
second year I shall disappoint the old chap. He
won't like it, I'm afraid."
"Who told you anything about it?" demanded
Carstairs.
"Mrs. Ginnell," replied Knight. "She is quite
excited about it. She has gone to the library to
read books of travel and furbish up her geography.
I'm afraid I rather disappointed her. I told her
that I could only accept provisionally."
"Provisionally?" repeated Carstairs, staring at
him.
Knight nodded. "I don't go unless Miss Sea-
combe goes, of course," he replied. "You couldn't
expect it, Carstairs, and wild horses and a steam
crane combined wouldn't get Freddie on board un-
less Miss Blake goes. He is quiet, but determined."
"And it is quite possible that if you go they
won't," said Carstairs. "I wasn't going to say any-
thing to you about it yet, but I forgot to warn my
aunt. She is as precipitate as you are. She is much
too young for her years."
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The Castaways
"But you couldn't go without us," said Knight.
"I mean, you wouldn't."
"Never knew him to put his tail down like that
before," murmured Pope, who was sitting by the
open window looking at the moonlight.
"We oughtn't to have come down here," said
Knight thoughtfully. "You ought to have sprung
us as a pleasant surprise at the last moment."
"Quite impossible," said Carstairs. "It would
look far too much of a put-up job. I had to let
Lady Penrose know that we were acquainted. Hence
the reason one of them, I mean of your visit
here."
"It ought to be very jolly if it comes off," said
Knight.
"Very," assented Carstairs. "Pope and I are
looking forward to a most amusing time."
"Something like a happy family I saw once at a
fair,'* said Pope, watching the smoke of his cigar
as it floated out of the window. "It consisted of a
cat, a dog, a monkey, and doves and little white
mice all shut up together in a cage. I think that the
peace was kept by a judicious system of overfeed-
ing."
"Very good way, too," said Knight. "But there
are sometimes conditions at sea in which any feeding
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at all is unwelcome. We must have this trip, if it's
only to see you in a gale."
Pope laughed comfortably. U I am an excellent
sailor," he retorted. "Why, five years ago, coming
round the Land's End in heavy weather, I was the
only passenger aboard that turned up to meals."
"Triumph of the flesh over the spirit," said
Knight.
"Even the second mate, to whom I gave a cigar,
threw it away after a couple of whiffs," continued
Pope. "I feel certain that half a dozen more would
have finished him."
"We don't doubt your word for a moment," said
Knight. "But when you have made an end of your
boasting we will talk business. I have a sort of
hopeful idea that Lady Penrose will accept in any
case."
"What makes you think so?" inquired Carstairs.
"Instinct," replied Mr. Knight. "Something
seems to tell me she will. I can't explain to any-
body, especially to you. I just feel it in my bones.
What do your bones say, Freddie?"
Mr. Peplow's bones not being in a communica-
tive mood, Knight turned towards Pope.
"I don't know," said that gentleman hastily. "You
leave my bones alone."
Knight nodded with a satisfied air. "I see," he
1 20
The Castaways
said darkly. "That's good enough for me. You
are quicker than I thought. It is never safe to
judge by appearances. You are a kindred spirit,
Pope. We understand each other."
"I'm blest if I know what you are talking about,"
blustered Pope.
"No matter," said Knight, rising and going over
to him. "Have you got a cigar about you? Not
one of the same brand that you gave to the poor
mate."
He took one from the well-filled case and, lighting
it delicately, returned to his seat.
"I wonder what sort of a sailor Lady Penrose
is?" he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke and re-
garding it thoughtfully.
"And old Mrs. Jardine?" said Mr. Peplow.
"She is an excellent sailor, I understand," said
Carstairs. "But I don't understand your sudden
concern for her welfare."
"I was thinking of mine," said Mr. Peplow mod-
estly. "Things would be much brighter if Mrs.
Jardine had to stay in her bunk most of the time.
She has an extraordinary knack of turning up in the
most unexpected places."
"You shouldn't be in unexpected places," said his
friend, shaking his head at him.
"And she seems to regard me almost as though
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I were some dangerous animal," continued Mr.
Peplow.
"Absurd!" said Pope and Knight together.
"Vanity is his besetting sin," added Knight. "My
own opinion is that Mrs. Jardine regards him more
in the light of a pertinacious blackbeetle than any-
thing else. One day she will put her foot down,
there will be a faint apologetic pop, and Freddie
will disappear."
After the frivolity of his younger friends it was
a relief to Carstairs to turn to the sedate enthusiasm
of Talwyn. He was as eager for the expedition as
Carstairs himself, and lost no opportunity of trying
to persuade Mrs. Jardine to become a member of
it. He got her to consent at last, provided that
Lady Penrose would also join the party.
"And she is hesitating, rather," said Mrs. Jar-
dine.
"What is the difficulty?" inquired Talwyn.
"There are one or two possible difficulties in the
way," said Mrs. Jardine vaguely. The possible dif-
ficulties had been discussed with Lady Penrose, and
both ladies had decided to do nothing in haste that
they might repent of at leisure. The appearance
of Knight and Peplow at Berstead had been some-
thing of a surprise to them; they had an uneasy idea
that there might be a greater one in store.
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"In which case I really don't think I want to go,"
said Lady Penrose. "The prospect of being on ship-
board with Mr. Knight for some months is not
alluring. I have a great objection to that young
man."
"Sir Edward is very keen," said Mrs. Jardine,
with a sigh. "I really don't think "
"And I gather that Captain Tollhurst is invited,"
said Lady Penrose.
"Very interesting man," murmured Mrs. Jardine.
"Very," agreed her friend. "He must have been
a great reader in his time, I should think, mostly of
boys' books of travel and adventure."
"Sir Edward thinks a lot of him," said Mrs.
Jardine defensively. "I must say I rather like him."
Lady Penrose nodded. "Anyway, Captain Toll-
hurst doesn't matter much," she said. "As for the
others, we must wait until we hear from Mr. Car-
stairs. He is coming on Wednesday afternoon with
Mrs. Ginnell. I will sound him then."
"I will come, too, if I may," said Mrs. Jardine.
"I like Mrs. Ginnell; and perhaps it would be just
as well for me to hear exactly what is proposed. A
hint or two might be of service."
She tried a few on Wednesday afternoon, and, as
she confided to Lady Penrose afterwards, she might
as well have tried them on the teapot. Her opinion
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of the simple-minded goodness of the man was im-
proved, but her respect for his intelligence was not.
And Mrs. Ginnell, alert and youthful, was equally
obtuse. She saw only one side of the picture: a
cheerful company, a bright sun, and summer seas.
It was a relief to Mrs. Jardine's mind when Mrs.
Ginnell had finished her third cup and they all ad-
journed to the garden.
"I do hope that you and Mrs. Jardine have made
up your minds to come," said Carstairs to Lady
Penrose, as they walked slowly down a box-edged
path. "If you don't I'm afraid the whole scheme
will fall through."
"I don't see why it should," was the reply. "There
must be plenty of people who would jump at it."
Carstairs shook his head. "Besides, I don't want
plenty of people," he said slowly, "although, of
course, I should extend a hearty welcome to any
friends of yours that you might wish to bring."
"And suppose that you didn't like them?" said
Lady Penrose, playing for an opening.
"It wouldn't matter."
"I'm afraid that I am more particular, or, if you
like, more selfish," said Lady Penrose. "I shouldn't
care to go for a long voyage with people that I
did not like."
Carstairs stole an appraising glance at her, and
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The Castaways
as a result decided to run a slight risk of disaster,
"Of course," he said cheerfully; "so I will give you
a list of my guests, and you can strike out those
you don't like."
Lady Penrose laughed. "Nonsense," she said,
colouring slightly. "It has nothing to do with me.
I couldn't dream of doing such a thing."
"Then you will come?" said Carstairs.
Lady Penrose hesitated. "Suppose you make the
same offer to Mrs. Jardine," she suggested, "and
give her the list."
"I I prefer to rely on your judgment," said
Carstairs.
"Who is coming?" she asked, after a pause.
Carstairs went through the names. "And I un-
derstand that my aunt has invited Knight and Pep-
low," he concluded. "They are staying with us, you
know."
"Yes," said Lady Penrose slowly. "Yes I am
not very fond of Mr. Knight."
Carstairs gave a little wave of the hand. "Strike
him off, then," he said cheerfully. "I'm afraid my
aunt will be very disappointed, but still "
"I can't possibly interfere with your arrange-
ments," said Lady Penrose, with a little laugh of
annoyance. "And what do you think Mrs. Ginnell
would say?"
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The Castaways
"She is very set on your coming," said Carstairs,
"and will be very much upset if the whole thing falls
through, as it will if you don't come. I am sure
that you will not let your plans be upset by a
youngster of that age. Apart from that you would
like to come?"
"Very much."
"Then that is settled," said Carstairs. "I abso-
lutely decline to let any half-baked boy upset my
plans in that fashion. It is making far too impor-
tant a person of him. Don't you feel that?"
"I don't think that he would," said Lady Penrose.
"You will come?" said Carstairs. "Please say
'yes.' If you don't I can never look my poor aunt
in the face again."
Lady Penrose hesitated. "Thank you very
much," she said at last, with a faint smile. "You
have put so much responsibility upon me that I
couldn't refuse, even if I wanted to."
"That's right," said Carstairs joyfully. "And
now let us go and tell Mrs. Jardine. Next Mon-
day I shall set out in quest of the safest and
sturdiest craft I can find; speed no object."
Mrs. Jardine received the news calmly, and,
with perfect confidence in her friend's judgment,
gratefully accepted the invitation. Details (par-
126
The Castaways
tial) furnished after the visitors had departed left
her less satisfied.
"It ought to be very pleasant," she said slowly.
"It is a pity that Mr. Carstairs is so slow of com-
prehension. However, there is plenty of time for
us to change our mind if we wish."
"I am going," said Lady Penrose. "I have
promised."
"You have made promises before," said Mrs.
Jardine, with a wise nod.
"What do you mean?" inquired her friend, with
a little heat.
"And I know how binding they are," concluded
Mrs. Jardine ambiguously.
Lady Penrose looked at her, but, being blessed
with an excellent memory, refrained from pursu-
ing the subject. She sat gazing at a bed of gera-
niums and turning over in her mind an idea that
had suddenly occurred to her.
"Do you think that Mr. Carstairs is as single-
minded and ingenuous as he seems?" she inquired.
"Certainly I do," said Mrs. Jardine. "It's the
only defect in his character so far as I can see.
I am not sure that I wouldn't call him simple.
In a nice, pleasant way, of course, but certainly
simple."
127
The Castaways
"I wonder!" said Lady Penrose, knitting her
brows.
At the same time Mr. Carstairs, suffering from
severe twinges of conscience, was calling himself a
rascal of the deepest dye.
128
CHAPTER XI
c< Tn\ E good," said Mr. Biggs.
*\ Mr. Bob Watson, his assistant, who
"^"^ had got the afternoon off, waved his hand
and strode away jauntily. Nearly at the gate, how-
ever, he paused, and, eying a small figure that had
just entered, turned round and signalled to Mr.
Biggs. The small figure, supporting an enormous
left cheek with a not overclean hand, scowled at
him darkly and continued on its way to the garage.
Mr. Watson, much interested, followed.
"Yes, sir?" said Mr. Biggs, with a wink at Mr.
Watson. "What can I do for you, sir? Why,
bless my soul, I seem to know that face ! And yet
somehow I don't seem to know it. Do you know
it, Bob?"
Mr. Watson shook his head. "It's a perfect
stranger to me," he said, in a puzzled voice.
"Seems to have a sort of likeness to that silly little
page, Albert."
"It's much better-looking than Albert's," said
Mr. Biggs; "better nourished, too."
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The Castaways
"It's something like our Albert might be, though,
after kissing a honey-bee what didn't want to be
kissed," maintained Mr. Watson.
"I've got a message for you from the guv'nor,"
said the boy, speaking with difficulty from the right-
hand side of his mouth.
"It is Albert!" said Biggs, with an air of great
surprise. "Well, I never did. How well you are
looking, Albert! Why, your left cheek is almost
grown up."
"Toothache," said Albert indistinctly. "Abscess.
I've got to go to the dentisht."
"Well, run away, Albert," said Mr. Biggs, with
a benevolent smile. "We don't want to keep you.
But it's a pity to spoil that cheek."
"You've got to take me," said Albert, with a
horrible leer of triumph. "Mr. Carstairs said so.
To Bosham, thirteen miles off. I like motoring."
Mr. Biggs's smile vanished with a suddenness
that was almost startling, and he stood gazing in
helpless fury at the small figure before him.
"I like motoring," repeated Albert, making a
praiseworthy attempt to smack his lips. "And you
are to start at once. Mr. Carstairs said so. Mr.
Markham has been on the 'phone, and I have got
an appointment at three. Hurry up !"
Hardly able to believe his ears, Mr. Biggs caught
130
The Castaways
his breath, and for one brief moment toyed with
the idea of putting both cars out of action. Then
his gaze fell on the grinning Watson, and his ex-
pression changed.
"If you want anything for yourself, Bob," he
said, taking a pace towards him, "you've only got
to say so, you know."
"I don't," said the other, retreating. "So long,
Be good."
The few but powerful words wrenched from
Mr. Biggs died away in the recess of the garage.
He tore his jacket from its peg, put on his cap
with a bang, and, walking to the front of the car,
started the engine. The unexpected appearance of
the butler provided the finishing touch to his dis-
comfiture.
"Why don't you make haste, Albert?" demanded
the latter, with a fine disregard of Mr. Biggs.
"I did tell him to hurry up, sir," said the boy.
"I suppose he is doing his best. I think he is."
A weird, choking noise, instantly suppressed, pro-
ceeded from the interior of the suffering Mr. Biggs.
"Get out of the way," he said, addressing the
butler; "I'm coming out."
He came out so suddenly that the butler had
to side-step with more haste than dignity. The car
went on for sixty or seventy yards, and, pulling up,
The Castaways
waited for the indignant Albert to overtake it. His
attempt to get up in front was promptly frustrated
by the chauffeur.
"In behind," said that gentleman briefly.
"I ought to ride in front by rights," said the
boy rebelliously.
"You ought to be buried by rights," retorted
Mr. Biggs dispassionately. "Get in, unless you
want me to drive off without you. And hide that
face in a pocket-handkerchief if you've got one."
He sat looking straight in front of him, turning
a deaf ear to the instructions given to the boy by
the butler, who had come up; instructions on the
need for haste if the appointment was to be kept
and trouble with Mr. Carstairs avoided. Also that
it was a business visit, and no "joy-riding" was to
be permitted.
"And consider yourself lucky," concluded Mr.
Markham impressively, "that you have a car to
ride in and a fairly capable man to drive you."
The fairly capable man let in his clutch so sharply
that Albert nearly rolled off his seat as the car
started off. Then he adjusted himself comfortably,
and, leaning back, prepared to enjoy himself as
much as his malady would permit. It was his first
motor-ride, and for a time the aching tooth was
almost forgotten.
132
The Castaways
The village street was somewhat busy, and Mr.
Biggs, slowing down through the traffic, went slower
still at the sight of a stylish figure in front of the
general shop. He brought the car to a standstill,
and Miss Mudge, with a bright smile, turned to-
wards him.
"Unexpected pleasure," declared the chauffeur
politely.
"Where are you off to?" inquired Miss Mudge,
with a glance at the small figure behind.
"Bosham," replied Mr. Biggs. "I'm taking this
thing to have a milk-tooth pulled out."
"Poor Albert!" said the girl, with womanly sym-
pathy. "Does it hurt you much, dear?"
"Who are you 'dearing' ?" croaked the offended
youth. "Of course it hurts. If the chauffeur
doesn't hurry up I shall miss my appointment."
"Oh, what a temper it is in!" exclaimed Miss
Mudge, drawing back in pretended alarm. "Don't
let me detain you, Mr. Biggs. Good-bye."
"There's no hurry," declared the chauffeur.
"You mustn't take any notice of Albert. Nobody
does. Why not hop on and come along with us?"
Miss Mudge shook her head. "I should like
to," she said, "but I'm only off till half-past four.
My lady said I was to be sure and be in by then.
She's going out."
133
The Castaways
"Half-past four?" said Mr. Biggs. "Why,
there's heaps and heaps of time."
He leaned across and opened the door, and Miss
Mudge, after a moment's hesitation, stepped in and
took the seat beside him.
"I hope my hat will stick on," she said doubt-
fully. "It wasn't made for motoring."
"I'll go easy," said Mr. Biggs, regarding it with
open admiration. "If I might say so, it suits you
wonderfully."
Miss Mudge sighed. "You ought to have seen
the one I had last year," she said. "It's a pity
that fashions change so. You no sooner get some-
thing that suits you than something else comes in."
"How is this for speed?" inquired Mr. Biggs,
who was doing a gentle twelve miles an hour.
"Just right," said Miss Mudge. "I like going
slow ; you can see the scenery better. Talking about
scenery, did you know I'm going with my lady in
the yacht? She's promised to take me. It ought
to be heavenly."
Mr. Biggs's face fell. "Must you go?" he in-
quired.
"Why, I want to go," said the other. "I
wouldn't miss it for worlds."
The chauffeur's face grew more sombre. "And
134
The Castaways
leave all your friends behind?" he said reproach-
fully.
"Perhaps they'll be glad to get rid of me," said
Miss Mudge flippantly. "Besides, I sha'n't leave
them all behind; Mr. Markham is coming to look
after things. Mr. Carstairs thinks a lot of him,
I am told."
"I suppose Markham told you so," said the
chauffeur, trembling with wrath.
The girl shook her head. "Everybody says so,' v
she replied softly.
Mr. Biggs drove on in silence. Vitriolic things
trembled on his lips, things unfit for the delicate
ears of Miss Mudge.
"I wish October was here," she said presently.
"I've always wanted to see the world, and it's
delightful to see it that way. No trains to catch,
no packing up and moving from place to place.
It's heavenly. If I don't have a good time it won't
be my fault."
Mr. Biggs grunted, and, looking straight before
him, drove on steadily.
"Don't you wish you were coming?" inquired
the girl, leaning towards him.
"Do you wish I was?" countered Mr. Biggs,
also leaning a little bit out of the perpendicular.
"I shouldn't mind," was the reply.
135
The Castaways
Mr. Biggs leaned a little more in her direction,
until a tendril of hair brushed lightly against his
cheek. He drove on in a kind of pleasant dream,
until a sensation of hot air playing on the back
of his neck brought him back suddenly to earth
again. He turned fiercely, and the pallid face of
Albert receded to a safe distance.
"Hurry up," mumbled that young gentleman.
"I shall miss my appointment."
"I'll 'hurry' you," said the indignant chauffeur,
in a fury. "How dare you stick that unwholesome
face of yours against a lady's? What do you mean
by it? What did you say?"
"I said it wasn't so close as yours," replied
Albert, "and neither it was. I've been watching
you. You were told to get me to the dentist's
at three."
To Miss Mudge's great surprise, Mr. Biggs
touched something on the wheel and the speed in-
creased every second. When the speedometer was
showing thirty miles an hour she looked at him
inquiringly, and in return got a faint wink from his
left eyelid. The speedometer climbed up to thirty-
five and then the needle began to drop back again.
"Something wrong," said Mr. Biggs, with an-
other faint movement of the eyelid. "Sparking-
plug, I think."
136
The Castaways
He pulled up fifty yards further on, and, ignor-
ing the request of Albert for information, raised
the bonnet and peered in. Then he came back
again, and, requesting the girl to stand up, raised
the lid of the seat and took out some tools.
"Anything wrong?" she inquired.
"Nothing much," he replied. "A matter of ten
minutes or so. I'm sorry for 'Face-ache,' but it
can't be helped. That's the worst of motor-cars.
One moment you are bowling along at forty miles
an hour, and the next you are waiting for some-
body to give you a tow to the nearest garage. I
remember once, before I came to Mr. Carstairs "
"Why don't you hurry up?" demanded Albert.
"Sorry, sir," said Mr. Biggs, in tones of deep
respect. "I'll be as quick as possible. Perhaps
you'd like to get out and stretch your legs a bit?
I feel as if I could work faster if I didn't have
your eagle eye on me all the time."
Albert cast a malevolent glance upon the titter-
ing Miss Mudge, but made no reply, and the chauf-
feur, whistling in the preoccupied fashion of a busy
man, set to work. The girl got out and sat on
the bank, rising after a time to loiter up and down
the road.
"Haven't you nearly finished?" she said at last.
137
The Castaways
"YouVe got to get me back at half-past four sharp,
you know."
"That'll be all right," said Mr. Biggs, look-
ing at the clock. "There's time to draw all Al-
bert's teeth and rig him up with a set of new ones.
I've just finished."
He closed up the bonnet and, putting his tools
away, started the engine, and climbed to his seat,
followed by Miss Mudge.
"It's a shame," she giggled, as they sped on.
"How can you tease the poor child like that?"
"Can't be helped," said Mr. Biggs, in a loud
voice. "Nobody can prevent accidents. But for
that we should have kept our time."
He was rewarded by an understanding glance
from Miss Mudge, and, somewhat pleased with
himself, drove the rest of the way in high spirits.
"Look slippy, my lad," he said amiably as he
pulled up at the dentist's. "Shut your eyes, open
your mouth, and mind you don't swallow the
nippers."
"Five-and-twenty past three," said Miss Mudge,
as the door opened and the boy disappeared.
"You'll be home at a quarter past four," said
Mr. Biggs. "Just take care of the car for a mo-
ment; I want to get something."
He went off up the road and disappeared into
138
The Castaways
a confectioner's, returning after a short interval
with a large box of chocolates dangling from his
forefinger by a piece of pink ribbon. He placed
them on the girl's lap and, declining a share in
favour of a cigarette, noted with warm approval
the correctness of her table manners. He felt that
he could sit and talk to her for hours.
"A quarter to four," she said suddenly.
"He won't be a minute now," said the other
confidently.
Miss Mudge consumed three or four more choco-
lates, and then, closing the cardboard box, sat
tapping it impatiently with the tips of her fingers.
Her restlessness communicated itself to the chauf-
feur, and two or three times, with an air of hurry-
ing things, he stood up and peered at the dentist's
windows. They stared blankly at him in return.
"I shall get into trouble," said the girl uneasily.
"You'd better drive me home as fast as you can,
and then come back for him."
Mr. Biggs shook his head. "He's a disagree-
able little beast," he said slowly, "and he'd jump
at the chance to make mischief if he came out and
found us gone. Very likely go by train to Fettle
and walk six miles home from there to make
trouble."
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The Castaways
The church clock, in a marked, deliberate fashion,
struck four.
"I'll fetch him out," snarled Mr. Biggs.
"I'll
He dashed up the steps and pressed the bell.
A maid-servant, after a decent interval, opened
the door.
"He's in the waiting-room," she said, in reply
to the chauffeur's question.
"In the waiting-room!" exclaimed Mr. Biggs.
"Why doesn't he come out?"
The maid stared at him. "He's waiting to be
attended to," she said firmly.
"Wait " gasped Mr. Biggs. "Wait
Where is the room? I want to see him."
He followed close on her heels, and burst into
a stiff, cheerless-looking room furnished with soiled
copies of Punch and illustrated papers of the year
before last. Albert, who was reading a paper, put
it down and eyed him languidly.
"What's all this about?" demanded the chauffeur.
"Why aren't you ready? What have you been do-
ing?"
"Missed my appointment," said Albert, with a
faint sigh. "I told you it was for three o'clock.
But I don't mind waiting; this is a most interesting
story."
140
The Castaways
"You hurry up," said Mr. Biggs truculently, "else
you'll be sorry for it, you miserable little toad!"
"You've no right to talk to him like that," said
a middle-aged woman, who was the only other occu-
pant of the room. "In my opinion the boy is a
perfect little gentleman. He's already given up his
turn to two people; and I'm sure he's suffering."
"Very good," said Mr. Biggs, after a merciful
attack of speechlessness. "Very good; I'll tell Mr.
Carstairs of this."
"Mr. Carstairs wouldn't mind; it's the thing he
would do himself," retorted Albert in a saintly
voice. "He "
"Ready for you now," said the maid, opening
the door and beckoning.
Albert rose, and, with a somewhat disappointed
glance at the clock, went out.
"We shall just do it," said Mr. Biggs, returning
to the car. "I don't suppose it'll take more than
a minute now."
He started the engine and resumed his seat. Ten
minutes later he switched it off again, and sat in a
state of suppressed fury listening to the complaints
of his distressed companion.
"It's all your fault," she said hotly. "If you
hadn't been so clever teasing the boy it wouldn't
have happened."
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The Castaways
"You enjoyed it," urged Mr. Biggs. "I saw
you smiling."
"You won't see me smile again in a hurry," said
Miss Mudge grimly. "But go on, put the blame on
me! Anything more you would like to say?"
She pitched the box of chocolates on the floor
of the car, and, opening the door, stepped out and
paced restlessly up and down the footpath. At
exactly twenty minutes to five the dentist's front
door opened, and Albert, with a somewhat im-
proved appearance, paused on the top step for a
few words with the maid. He sauntered down the
steps just as Mr. Biggs started the engine.
"Where have you been?" demanded the chauffeur,
glaring at him. "Don't you try and tell me that
it has taken him all this time to draw a tooth."
"No, it wouldn't be true," said Albert. "He
found another tooth with a hole in it; so I told
him he might as well stop it. He's got a thing
like a sewing-machine, and "
He drew back appalled before the frenzy in Mr.
Biggs's face.
"Are you going to start, or are we going to stay
here all day?" inquired Miss Mudge. "Get up,
Albert."
"It's your place," said the boy quickly.
"I'm going in behind," said the girl.
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The Castaways
"I'll come, too," said Albert.
"Not with me, you won't," said the girl, getting
in and closing the door. "Make haste and get in.
There's a box of chocolates on the floor you can
have."
"No, he can't!" grunted Mr. Biggs, as the car
started.
"They're my chocolates," said Miss Mudge,
"and I can give them to who I like. Pick them
up, Albert."
The boy, with his eye on the chauffeur, obeyed.
"Now eat them."
Albert shook his head, but, the command being
repeated, drew a large chocolate, decorated with a
crystallised violet, from the box, and delicately bit
off the end. Slight sucking noises testified to his
enjoyment, and after a minute or two of very justi-
fiable nervousness he settled back in his seat and
gave himself up to the full enjoyment of the
position.
"Thank you for a very pleasant afternoon," said
Miss Mudge, with a toss of her head, as she de-
scended at the gate. "And thanks so much for
getting me into trouble."
"It wasn't my fault," said the hapless Mr. Biggs.
"Being done by a babe in arms like that!" said
Miss Mudge, with a glance at Albert. "I'd be
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The Castaways
ashamed of myself. Thank goodness you're not
coming to sea with us!"
"I don't know so much about that," said Mr.
Biggs. "Perhaps I can if I want to. Perhaps Lady
Penrose won't take you now."
Miss Mudge slammed the gate.
144
CHAPTER XII
MR. BIGGS put the matter of the yacht
right next day. It appeared from his
own showing that he could be of great
use in the engine-room, while, on the other hand,
as an honest man and an Englishman, he had a
great objection to staying at home on full pay with
nothing to do for it. Permission was accorded so
readily that, relating the matter to Mr. Watson
afterwards, he was half-disposed to regret that he
had not asked to go as a passenger.
"Cheek'll do anything almost," assented Mr.
Watson. "What do you know about a ship's
engines?"
"More than you know about a car's," retorted
the other. "When a man's got a head for ma-
chinery which you haven't nothing comes amiss
to him. I haven't seen the machinery I couldn't
understand, yet."
"That shows your sense," said Watson. "It's
no good going out of your way to look for trouble,
I mean. However, I hope you'll have a good time;
145
The Castaways
I'm going to. I wonder the guv'nor don't take the
housemaids and the gardeners as well; they could
lend you a hand in the engine-room."
As a matter of fact, the rest of the staff, with
one exception, manifested no desire to tempt their
fortunes on the stormy deep. Board wages and
an easy existence for some months was the height
of their ambition. The exception was Albert, and,
until his desires were made known, a little confusion
was caused by his unusual behaviour.
"I'd sooner have a ghost in the place," declared
Pope to Carstairs one day. "The little beast simply
haunts me. What's the matter with him?"
Carstairs shook his head. "I seem to have seen
more of him lately," he remarked. "I have nearly
fallen over him twice."
"Whenever I turn my head, there is that infernal
boy somewhere near," said Pope. "And there's
a curious pale smile about him I don't like. D'ye
think it's mental?"
"No, no!" said Carstairs hastily. "Of course
it isn't. Don't give way to such fancies; they're
unhealthy. Your head is all right."
"Mine?" gasped his incensed friend. "Mine?
I am talking about the boy's. He's getting very
strange in his manner. Only yesterday he stole up
behind me and picked a bit of fluff off my coat. I
146
The Castaways
didn't know he was there, and it gave me quite a
turn."
"That's odd," said Carstairs, looking perplexed.
"He picked two bits of fluff off me this morning.
At two different times."
"Let's have him up and question him," said Pope,
crossing to the bell. "Tackle him gently."
"Bait your coat with a piece of fluff," said Car-
stairs, with a grin; "that would give us an opening."
Albert, whose conscience was no clearer than that
of the average page, received the summons with
some trepidation. The slow arranging of Mr.
Pope's pince-nez added to his discomfiture, and he
stood trying to think out replies to 'any misde-
meanours with which he might be charged.
"Have you quite recovered from your visit to
the dentist?" inquired Carstairs.
"Me, sir? Yessir," replied the boy.
"You don't appear to be quite well," said Car-
stairs musingly.
"Perfectly well, sir," said the puzzled Albert.
"Thank you, sir."
"Then what do you mean by it?" inquired Pope,
taking off his folders and shaking them at him
threateningly. "What do you keep getting in my
way for and following me about? And Mr. Car-
stairs?"
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The Castaways
"Nothing, sir," said Albert. "I I didn't know
you had noticed it, sir."
"That's an admission," said Pope, turning a red
face to Carstairs.
"I I wanted to ask you something, sir," said
the boy, turning to the latter.
"Well?"
Albert itwisted his hands together. "I wanted
to ask whether I could go," he said desperately.
"Go !" repeated his astonished employer. "Why,
of course you can. Why didn't you ask before?"
The tension of Albert's features relaxed, and
was succeeded by a radiant smile. "I thought there
mightn't be room, sir," he said simply.
Carstairs turned with a perplexed gaze to Pope.
"Room?" he repeated slowly. "Room?"
"On the boat, sir," explained the boy, staring
in his turn.
A startled grunt from Mr. Pope and a sudden
exclamation from Mr. Carstairs added to his mysti-
fication. Carstairs was the first to recover.
"Of course," he said, smiling. "Very thought-
ful of you; but I have no doubt we shall be able
to find room somewhere."
"If we couldn't," said Pope, with great solemnity,
"we'd make it."
Albert eyed him dubiously, and, retiring in good
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The Castaways
order, closed the door and danced downstairs in
an ecstasy of delight.
"That settles it; we must now redouble our efforts
to get a satisfactory craft," said Carstairs. "It
would never do to break faith with Albert."
"He would be much more disappointed than
Lady Penrose," said Pope. "We had better go
up to-morrow and see that yacht broker Talwyn
mentioned. Tollhurst offered to come with us.
He he is going to help me buy guns and things."
"Guns?" said his friend, staring.
"Must have a shot-gun," replied Pope, redden-
ing. "One thing is, it will be useful down here.
And perhaps a rifle. Every man ought to know
how to use one. Might be useful on board. You
never know."
Carstairs groaned. "You've been talking to
Tollhurst," he said accusingly. "All right. We'll
mount a couple of brass cannon as well. What
about a black flag?"
Pope turned a deaf ear. At the age of fifty
he had resolved to become a sportsman; a resolu-
tion partly due to the narratives of Captain Toll-
hurst, and partly to the rabbits which came out
in their thousands in the park at sunset. Up to
the present he had contented himself with taking
sighting-shots at them with a walking-stick, develop-
149
The Castaways
ing an accuracy of aim which he felt sure would
prove of value later on. Birds half a mile dis-
tant had also been satisfactorily accounted for.
They took the business of the yacht first next
day, a story of a rhinoceros and Captain Tollhurst
helping to beguile the tedium of the journey. A
story told so modestly that only the thoughtful
listener could appreciate the high courage and re-
sourcefulness displayed by the survivor.
It was a matter of surprise to Carstairs, who had
never given the matter much thought, that the choice
of steam yachts of the tonnage required was a some-
what limited one, but by what the broker described
as an extraordinary slice of luck the very craft they
were looking for was at that moment undergoing
repairs at Southampton. Photographs and plans
seemed eminently satisfactory, and they left after
making an arrangement to view the Starlight, four-
teen hundred tons, three days later.
"It would have been more interesting," said Toll-
hurst, as they returned to the car, u to have hired
a small sailing yacht."
"You mean more dangerous," said Pope ac-
cusingly. "So far as I am concerned, I prefer size
and security."
The captain laughed and shook his head. "A
little element of uncertainty, that is all," he replied.
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The Castaways
"Not for the ladies," said Pope solemnly.
"I had forgotten them," was the reply.
"I expect we shall have all the uncertainty we
want," said Carstairs amiably; "but if you find the
voyage palls we can always land you and Pope
at some place where you can risk your lives. And
pick you up afterwards if there is anything to pick
up. Now, what about these guns?"
Tollhurst gave a direction to Biggs, and five
minutes afterwards they pulled up at a gunsmith's
and laid the foundations of a small but efficient
armoury. A hammerless ejector gun, a sporting
rifle, a rabbit rifle, and an automatic pistol of the
newest pattern went home with Pope in the car.
"To-morrow," he said, toying with the little
rifle, "I will get my hand in on a few rabbits."
Tollhurst nodded. "I will come with you," he
said; "but I should advise the gun to begin with.
A rabbit is a small target, you know."
"You know best," said Pope, somewhat ungra-
ciously. "I thought there would be more sport with
a bullet, that is all. The shot-gun is too certain."
"Sheer butchery," said Carstairs, with a glance
at Tollhurst.
"They ought to have a chance," said Pope judi-
cially. "However, if Tollhurst doesn't think so,
perhaps I had better take the gun."
"Take the rifle by all means, if you wish," said
Tollhurst. "The head is as good a place to hit
them in as any," he added, with a return glance
at Carstairs.
It was a scarcely perceptible glance, but Pope saw
it and lapsed into silence, which, except for an
occasional grunt, he maintained until the end of the
journey. Upon one thing he was determined: he
would astonish them all next day.
He arose at six next morning, and went out for
a little preliminary rifle practice. Ten shots at the
trunk of a beech tree at fifty yards furnished no
data, the wood simply swallowing the bullets with-
out revealing the place of entry. An empty tomato-
can perched on a post deflected them at ten yards'
range in a way that was almost uncanny. If a
tomato-can could behave in that fashion, what might
be expected of a rabbit? Perturbed in spirit, Mr.
Pope returned to the house and, meeting Biggs on
the way, gave him the rifle to clean.
In the result he resolved to thin the rabbits out
(his own expression) with the gun, and soon after
six that evening, accompanied by Tollhurst, he set
off to a sandy bank on the confines of the park.
Trees and gorse afforded good cover, and, stealing
up with the caution of a Red Indian, he discharged
both barrels at a little group forty yards distant.
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The Castaways
The earth swallowed them up immediately, includ-
ing the two he had hit.
"I'll swear I winged them," he said, after a
search.
Tollhurst nodded. "Gone to die in their holes,"
he said briefly. "Often happens. We must try
further along now."
They went on in silence, Pope with his lips pursed
and his gun ready. Restless rabbits, unable to stay
in one place for more than a second or two at a
time, he ignored. He wanted something less mobile,
and it presented itself at last in the shape of a
huge elderly buck rabbit which was sitting under
an oak tree taking the air. Trembling with ex-
citement, Pope held his breath, and was just taking
careful aim, when the veteran arose and went for
a gentle constitutional behind a clump of gorsc.
"It's gone," whispered Pope.
"Plenty more," said his friend. "Be quicker
next time."
Mr. Pope attributed his failure to that advice.
Left to himself, he felt sure that he could have shot
rabbits. As it was, bits of gorse were blown to
pieces and patches of turf rose into the air. At
the end of an hour Tollhurst, looking in the direc-
tion of the house, muttered something about dinner.
"I'll come when I've got a rabbit," said Pope
grimly. "You go."
The Castaways
Left to himself, he flitted noiselessly about and
blazed away at intervals, until at length, tired and
dispirited, he sat down and drew out his cigarette
case. A figure approaching in the dusk drew near,
and revealed itself as Mr. Biggs.
"Any sport, sir?" inquired the chauffeur respect-
fully.
Pope told him. He also referred in scathing
terms to the acrobatic proclivities of his quarry.
Mr. Biggs looked longingly at the gun. "Long
time since I shot any, sir," he said, with a sigh.
"Can you shoot?" inquired Pope.
"I've shot thousands in my time, sir," said the
chauffeur, "when I was a boy, at home."
Pope took up his gun and held it out to him.
"Kill a few thousands now," he said vindictively.
Mr. Biggs thanked him and withdrew noiselessly.
An occasional report indicated that he was doing
his best to carry out instructions. Pope, leaning
back with a pleasant sense of fatigue, went on
smoking. It was not until he had finished his third
cigarette that he saw' the chauffeur returning.
"Any luck?" he called out.
Mr. Biggs shook his head. "I won't blame
them," he said frankly. "I suppose my eye is out,
or my hand; perhaps both."
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The Castaways
"But " said Pope, and pointed to three rab-
bits the other was carrying.
"Not mine, sir," said Biggs. "Wish they were.
I picked them up as I went along."
Pope stared at him. "They must be mine, then,"
he said, in a puzzled voice.
"Unless anybody else has been shooting," said
Mr. Biggs, gazing afar off. "They're fresh killed.
You must have been shooting better than you
thought."
Mr. Pope thought so, too, and, extending his
hand for the rabbits and the gun, set off in the
direction of the house. Mr. Biggs accompanied
him half-way, and then, with a respectful "Good
night," turned off.
Tired but happy, Pope reached the house, and,
rejecting the offer of a footman to take his burden,
made his way to the dining-room, and stood framed
in the doorway. A slight exclamation from Toll-
hurst called attention to his presence.
"Well done !" said Carstairs.
Pope smiled. "Not much of a bag," he said
modestly.
"Poor things!" said Mrs. Ginnell, shaking her
head at him. "Murderer!"
"Not at all," murmured Pope.
155
CHAPTER XIII
THE inspection of the yacht was so satis-
factory that Carstairs made up his mind
on the spot, and for the next month or
two had many pleasant jaunts to Southampton to
mark progress. Members of the expedition spent
the time in providing things for the voyage accord-
ing to their several tastes; the fact that Albert had
laid in a stock of three mouth organs and a tin
whistle coming in for much adverse comment on
the part of Mr. Biggs.
The Starlight weighed anchor on a fine morning
in early October. A light breeze and a slight touch
of autumn in the air added to the enjoyment of
the voyagers, whose numbers were now increased
by an unnecessarily good - looking young doctor
named Maloney, and Miss Flack, a spinster of
mature years and lifelong friend of Mrs. Jardine.
Seated in little groups on deck, Mr. Carstairs'
guests, idly watching the passing craft, looked for-
ward with some zest to a life of exciting but harm-
less adventure. The doctor, who had made several
voyages, was pleased to find himself regarded as
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The Castaways
an authority on all things nautical, and was at once
elevated to a position from which the other men
sought in vain to remove him.
"I should have thought the sea was the worst
place in the world for a man of your profession,"
remarked Knight, after listening to one or two
episodes.
The doctor stroked a very fine moustache.
"Why?" he inquired.
"No practice," was the reply.
"You're wrong," said Maloney. "It's what I
come to sea for. Suppose I was ashore and you
had got to lose a leg, say. Would you come to
me?"
"I would not," said Knight bluntly.
"Exactly," said Maloney, nodding. "But you've
got no choice here. That's where I have you. If
you get anything wrong with you, you don't turn
over the Medical Directory and pick out your man;
you come to me. And you can't upset my diagnosis.
That's a great thing. That's a comforting thing."
"For whom?" inquired Peplow seriously.
"All of us," said Maloney, lowering his voice
as two of the ladies passed. "If you pass away
because I treat you for muscular rheumatism by
removing your appendix, it's much better for your
peace of mind to say nothing of my own you
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The Castaways
shouldn't know that but for a pardonable error you
might have lived another fifty years."
Mr. Peplow shuddered. "Are you an Irish-
man?" he inquired thoughtfully.
The other shook his head. "Not since my
grandfather," he replied. "When I was born the
brogue got mislaid. Besides, I am too serious-
minded for an Irishman."
"I never have any use for a doctor," said Knight
casually, "but if I had I should choose a man of
some age."
"I'm just the right age," said Maloney. "Thirty;
just young enough to be interesting, and just old
enough to know how to."
He strolled off with a smile, and dropping into
a chair between Miss Seacombe and Miss Blake,
just vacated by Mrs. Jardine, at once proceeded to
justify his statement.
"Who shipped that chap?" demanded Knight,
turning to Pope.
"Carstairs," was the reply. "He said that he
reminded him of you. Jolly chap; knows his job,
too. He's got a splendid lot of instruments; I
have seen them."
"You'll see them again," said Knight solemnly.
"Mark my words if you don't. What a romantic
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The Castaways
end to a useful and well-spent life, to be buried
at sea a thousand miles from land!"
It was a matter for congratulation that when
they emerged from the shelter of the Isle of Wight
they found the Channel as smooth as the proverbial
mill-pond. The evening air was bracing and just
cool enough to make the change to the warm dining-
room acceptable. Half-way through the meal Mr.
Pope paid a heartfelt tribute to the cook, warmly
seconded by Mr. Peplow.
"It must be a beautifully built ship," said Miss
Flack; "there is absolutely no motion."
"And not at all stuffy," said Mrs. Jardine.
"It is difficult to realise that we are at sea," said
Pope, looking around.
"It is a difficulty that time will solve," said the
doctor. "I had the same difficulty myself once,
and twelve hours later I thought that I was in a
boat-swing that fancied itself a roundabout."
"Did it did it upset your digestion?" inquired
Miss Flack delicately.
"It did not," said the doctor. "It upset my
head."
"Vertigo," explained Pope, with a vise nod.
"Edge of the fore-scuttle," corrected the doctor,
"and one of the hands who was coming up at the
time. He got a very interesting case of concus-
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The Castaways
sion. He'd have been in bed till the end of the
voyage if the second mate hadn't taken the case out
of my hands. He used a counter-irritant in the
shape of two clumps on the head. I did think of
sending an account of the case to the Lancet.''
Miss Flack looked mystified. "How interest-
ing!" she murmured, and turned with some relief
to help herself to trifle.
The next two days passed with equal serenity,
a condition of things for which, judging from their
remarks, his gratified guests seemed to hold Car-
stairs responsible. Reading, conversation, and
games made the time pass pleasantly enough, the
devotion of Mr. Knight to law books of a singu-
larly uninviting appearance calling for much sur-
prised comment. It was whispered by the admiring
Mrs. Ginnell that he was going to read for the
Bar on his return to England, but after one morn-
ing during which a lot of silly people, including
several old enough to know better, walked round
and round the ship in line for the pleasure of pass-
ing him on tiptoe and saying "Hshf" as they ap-
proached, he threw up his studies in disgust.
He awoke on the fourth day at sea to find his
bunk out of the horizontal and a floor which was
never in the same place for two seconds together.
He shaved himself carefully and, grinning with
1 60
The Castaways
anticipation, went on deck. The fresh morning air,
with a touch of rain in it, was delightful, but the
sea was of a dirty brown and the sky overcast.
The deck looked wet and desolate; the bows rose
and fell again with a resounding slap.
"Dirty weather?" he inquired of the boatswain,
who was passing.
"Not yet, sir," was the reply, "but I fancies as
we shall get it in the Bay. If I was you, sir, I
should eat all I could stow away to-day."
"Oh, I'm all right," said Knight sharply. "I
was thinking of the others the ladies."
Mr. Tarn nodded, and turned to gaze with some
interest at Miss Mudge, who, appearing hastily
from the companion, passed them in a series of
little tottering runs. Between runs she stood sway-
ing to and fro in an effort to regain her balance
and gazing with much distaste at the tumbling seas.
The boatswain, with a deprecatory glance at Knight,
stepped up to her and steadied her with a power-
ful arm about her waist. She turned with a faint
scream.
"All right," he said reassuringly, "I've got you;
you're quite safe."
"Safe?' repeated Miss Mudge. "You're choking
the life out of me. I thought the machinery had
got hold of me."
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The Castaways
"I thought you was going to fall," said the boat-
swain, letting out a reef. "Is that better?"
Miss Mudge's head dropped to his shoulder and
her eyes half closed. He led her to a seat and sat
down, still supporting her, until an angry bark from
the bridge sent him about his business. Deprived
of his support, moral and physical, the girl rose and,
steering an erratic course for the companion, dis-
appeared below.
Seats at the breakfast-table began to empty be-
fore the conclusion of the performance. The dining-
saloon had suddenly become stuffy and odorous, the
smell of fried engine oil being particularly notice-
able. Bulkheads creaked, and articles on the table
became endowed with movement.
"We shall have to have the fiddles rigged for
lunch, I expect," said Tollhurst.
"There is a little bit of a sea on," said Pope,
as he arose and assisted Mrs. Ginnell to the door.
"Perhaps I had better help you to your cabin."
The couple disappeared, followed with longing
eyes by Markham. The under-stewards, jealous of
his authority, watched him gloatingly. Pale of face
and compressed of lip he stuck to his post wonder-
ing whether he could endure to the end.
"I feel unwell," said Carstairs, rising suddenly.
"And I don't care who knows it," he added, look-
162
The Castaways
ing at the grinning faces before him. "Markham,
you are feeling it, too. You had better get to your
bunk. There will be quite enough left to to look
after the survivors."
He vanished with some precipitancy, followed by
the butler. Mrs. Jardine, the only lady left, rose
from her chair and with an undisturbed mien went
off to the drawing-room. The men went up to
the smoke-room and lit cigarettes. Through the
doorway on the leeward side they caught glimpses
of white-topped seas scurrying past. Mr. Peplow,
to observe them better, left the smoke-room and
did a stately cake-walk to the side, where he re-
mained, heedless of the rain and spray.
"We are going right into it," observed the doctor
returning from a visit to the doorway.
Talwyn stared at him disagreeably. "Going into
it? We are in it, aren't we?" he demanded.
"Not on the edge of it yet," replied the doctor
cheerfully.
Talwyn grunted and, regarding his cigarette with
some disfavour, threw it away. Then, muttering
something in his pocket-handkerchief, he got up and
went out. Within ten minutes the doctor was alone.
The wind increased as the day wore on, and at
luncheon Mrs. Jardine, his only companion, rose
before the meal was finished and, with a look equally
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The Castaways
compounded of surprise and indignation, quitted the
saloon. By next morning it was blowing a gale,
which continued with unabated violence throughout
the day.
It was not until the day after that that Mr.
Knight, who had been keeping body and soul to-
gether with judicious doses of brandy and water,
swung his feet over the edge of the bunk and low-
ered himself slowly to the floor. His neglected
watch had stopped, and he was even in some doubt
as to the day of the week. He opened the door,
and, clutching at anything that offered support, made
his way to Mr. Peplow's cabin, and sank exhausted
on the velvet settee.
"Halloa !" said Mr. Peplow feebly, turning a dull
eye on him. "What do you want?"
"Bright and entertaining society," retorted
Knight, with weak ferocity.
His friend made no reply, but, turning away,
closed his eyes and tried to forget his troubles in
sleep. Knight, lying on the settee, listened drearily
to the creaking of timbers, the distant crash of
crockery from the stewards' pantry, and the mo-
notonous sound of the bilge as it washed to and
fro. The door opened and the horrible reek of
a cigar assailed his nostrils. He turned a languid
head to see Maloney standing in the doorway.
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The Castaways
"Just had a look into your cubby-hole," he said,
entering. "Thought perhaps you had gone over-
board."
"Take it away," said Knight.
The doctor looked puzzled. "Oh, the cigar!"
he said, with a laugh. "I'll hold it outside the
door. It's one of Pope's best. He has just given
me the box. Says he never wants to see one again."
"What's time?" inquired Knight, with an effort.
"Just gone four. Are you going to get up?"
"Where are the others?" inquired Knight.
"All in bed except two," was the reply. "I've
had my hands full, I can tell you. There's still a
big sea running. Miss Seacombe describes it as
mountainous."
"Is is she up?" inquired Knight, starting.
"And Mrs. Ginnell," said Maloney. "Beth made
an effort and got up to breakfast. Slight relapse
after breakfast, but turned up to lunch. They've
got ten times the pluck of the men. I've got 'em
both up on deck wrapped up in shawls in lounge
chairs."
Knight groaned, and putting his feet to the floor
got up and looked out at the porthole. With an-
other groan he returned to the settee.
"Don't you worry about them," said Maloney
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The Castaways
gently; "they're all right. I'm reading poetry to
them."
"Poetry?" gasped Knight.
"Keats," said the other, nodding. "It's Miss
Seacombe's favourite. After dinner I'm going to
give her some of my own. I shall tell her it's
Shelley. There's one little thing of mine "
"Oh, go to blazes!" moaned the indignant
Knight. "Are they strapped in their chairs?"
"They are not," said the doctor. "If you had
ever heard me read poetry you would not ask me
that question. Why not make an effort and get up
and come and hear me? It's only a question of
will-power."
"Go away," said Knight.
"Talk to yourself firmly. Say over six times :
*I will be a man; I will not lie about like a dying
duck in a thunderstorm in pink pyjamas with blue
stripes undone at the neck.' '
'This is the doctor Freddie," observed
Knight bitterly.
'^end him away," faltered Mr. Peplow.
"It's curing you I would be," said the doctor.
"Trying to shame you into your trousers. I cured
a man of the sea-sickness once by sitting on his
diaphragm. It was the indignity of the thing that
he didn't like. In the wild desire to kill one of
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the best doctors in England he forgot all about his
illness."
Knight closed his eyes.
"Well, I must be going," continued Maloney.
"I mustn't keep the ladies waiting. I suppose you
haven't got a voice lozenge about you?"
He took two or three sharp puffs at his cigar,
which had nearly gone out, and vanished in a cloud
of malodorous smoke.
There was a long silence, broken only by a faint
moan from Mr. Peplow. Then Knight, fired by
the story of the owner of the outraged diaphragm,
rose unsteadily to his feet, and tottered back to his
cabin. A small figure, lying on its back on his settee
with its knees drawn up, eyed him wanly.
"Albert!" exclaimed the astonished Knight.
The boy pointed a trembling finger at a siphon
of soda which was rolling about on the floor with
a broken plate and some dry biscuits. As a defence
it seemed incomplete.
"Then I had to lay down," said Albert, with
a shudder.
He turned over on his left side, drew his knees
up to his chin, and composed himself to slumber.
By a great effort Knight managed to retrieve a
couple of biscuits and the soda and cut his foot
on the broken plate. A stiff peg of brandy and
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The Castaways
soda, together with the biscuits, helped to revive
him. He took his clothes from the floor and, with
trembling fingers, proceeded to dress himself.
He gained the deck with some difficulty and,
swaying with weakness, stood holding on to a rail.
After the atmosphere below the strong, clean air
was delicious, and he did his best to ignore the
heaving seas and a couple of performing fishing-
boats. Slowly and carefully he made his way aft
to the sheltered spot where Maloney was reading
to his fair patients.
A little delighted exclamation from Mrs. Ginnell
and a smile from Miss Seacombe greeted his arrival.
Mutual congratulations were exchanged.
"He had better have your chair," said Miss Sea-
combe to the reader.
The doctor rose, and Knight, having by dint of
skilful balancing taken the chair without mishap,
bestowed a smile, right and left, on his fair com-
panions. It was returned with interest, and Mrs.
Ginnell, taking possession of his left hand, patted
it affectionately.
"He has got the turn now, I think," said the
doctor, regarding him with a professional eye. "I
have done my part; all he wants now is careful
nursing."
Knight, still weak and dizzy, looked at the vol-
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ume of poems in the other's hand and smiled
maliciously.
"Page fifty-seven," said Maloney, thrusting it
into his hand, "fourth line. Take it easy to begin
with and don't strain your voice. It's time I went
off and looked after the other poor sufferers."
169
CHAPTER XIV
A SOMEWHAT disillusioned Mrs. Jardine
appeared at the breakfast-table next morn-
ing, but until the ship arrived at Gibraltar
most of the company preferred to take their meals
in their cabins. Flying visits to the deck were made
by one or two members, but like the trial-flights
of fledglings, they were of short duration, Mr. Pope
on one occasion having to suffer the indignity of be-
ing helped back to his nest by Albert.
The stability of Gibraltar gave universal satis-
faction, and it was felt that Great Britain had de-
served well of her citizens by acquiring it. Delight-
ful to know that when you put your foot down
there was something there to meet it.
The Rock left behind, they came in for an un-
broken spell of fine weather. Port after port helped
to break the monotony of life on shipboard, and
Carstairs noted with pleasure the good-fellowship
prevailing between his guests. Only Knight and
Peplow, conferring apart, had occasion to describe
the smiling good-nature of Lady Penrose and Mrs.
Jardine as barefaced duplicity.
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The Castaways
"They have never paid me so much attention,"
said Knight bitterly.
Mr. Peplow groaned.
"I'm a sort of human magnet," continued his
friend. "Yesterday afternoon the smoke-room was
empty and I took Winifred in to see me smoke a
cigarette. Lady Penrose came in to witness the
performance two minutes later, and within a quarter
of an hour I was the centre of an admiring circle
of five."
"And Talwyn was with me," said Mr. Peplow.
"That is to say, he was boring Effie with his con-
versation, and I went to the rescue."
"And when you are boring her he comes to the
rescue," said Knight. "The whole fact of the mat-
ter is, this ship is too small; but even ashore I get
a large following. That chap Tollhurst is trying
to make himself amiable to Lady Penrose. He
hangs about her like a shadow, and when she is
not on guard over me he takes ever her duties.
Wonder where Talwyn picked him up?"
Mr. Peplow shook his head. "Don't matter
where he was picked up," he murmured, "trouble
is, he is here."
"What Is it?" asked Maloney, sauntering up. "A
mothers' meeting? or a Young Men's Mutual Im-
provement Society? Why aren't you in the smoke-
The Castaways
room? Pope is doing card-tricks. He is standing
with his eyes shut to show there is no deception,
while we draw cards. The opportunity was too
much for my politeness. He has muffed two tricks
already."
"You have set a bad example," said Knight, as
Miss Blake, followed by Talwyn, slipped furtively
out of the smoke-room and went forward.
Mr. Peplow followed his friend's glance, and in
a careless fashion started to move off.
"No," said the doctor, shaking his head. "Better
not."
Mr. Peplow drew himself up and stared at him.
"Wrong tactics," said the unmoved doctor. "Let
her get fed up with him."
Mr. Peplow, fiery red in colour, turned and looked
appealingly at Knight.
"And miss you," continued Maloney. "Cake is
a nice thing, but one can have too much of it. Let
her go without it for a day."
"I don't understand you," said Peplow, with great
dignity. "Cake!"
"Or anything else sweet and wholesome," replied
the doctor, looking him over. "You be guided by
me. I've seen a lot of this sort of thing. Taken
a hand in it, too, when I was young. Oh, I know
just what's going on, and watching it gives me a
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lot of quiet pleasure in the few moments I can
snatch from my duties. It's no use getting stuffy;
I can't help having an observant eye, any more than
I can help interfering in lost causes. All big natures
are like that."
Mr. Peplow was saved a reply by the appear-
ance of Pope from the smoke-room. His voice
came booming along the deck.
"Of course the trick failed," he complained.
"When you tell a man to draw a card and put it
back, and he puts it in his pocket instead and
disappears, the thing's impossible. Where's that
doctor?"
"Time for me to disappear," said Maloney. "I
never attempt to defend an impossible position.
Come down in my cabin and have a chat. Subject :
Dowagers and how to circumvent 'em."
He disappeared, and Knight and Peplow, after
a moment's hesitation, followed.
The doctor's subject was one that might have
been of interest to Miss Mudge, who had been
for some time suffering from the unwelcome chaper-
onage of Miss Flack. Miss Mudge would have
been the first to admit that she came in for an
undue amount of attention; what she would not
admit was that she required any assistance in deal-
ing with it. Besieged by the engine-room, the fore-
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castle, and the steward's pantry, she more than held
her own a fact which only increased the ardour
of the victims.
At meal-times she was free. The deck was
empty and the passengers below. At such times,
with a book for use and some needlework for show,
it was her practice to lead the way to the bows
followed by some delighted seaman carrying a deck-
chair. At lunch-time on the day following Mr.
Pope's card-tricks the chair of state was borne by
Mr. Tarn, the boatswain. Not by happy chance,
but owing to a few plain words aimed at a couple
of hands who were hanging about waiting to per-
form the office instead of going on with their work.
"How's that?" he inquired, planting the chair.
Miss Mudge arranged herself and let fall a ball
of wool, which the boatswain pursued. He re-
turned winding up the slack.
"The other side, I think," said the girl, rising.
Mr. Tarn made the adjustment, and, stroking
a yellow moustache, stood watching her with a
world of patient devotion in his fine blue eyes.
"Wonderful pleasant, ain't it?" he ventured at
last.
Miss Mudge yawned. "Rather boring," she
said. "Nothing seems to happen at sea."
"But you've been ashore," said the boatswain.
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The Castaways
"Oh, yes, I've been ashore," said the girl lan-
guidly, "but it isn't like England, you know. I
don't call it civilised. I am not used to rough-
ing it."
"Anybody could see that with half an eye," said
the boatswain. "The first time I see you, I says
to the carpenter, 'That's a dainty little piece of
goods,' I says."
"And what did he say?" inquired Miss Mudge
carelessly.
The boatswain was not prepared for the ques-
tion. "It don't matter what 'e said," he replied
guardedly, "but I told 'im if ever he said it agin
I'd give him something for himself he'd remember
all his lifetime."
Miss Mudge's languor disappeared. "I don't
like sailors," she said tartly. "I suppose they have
to go to sea because nobody will employ them
ashore."
"There's sailormen and sailormen," said the
boatswain tenderly; "there's me, and there's the car-
penter. Are you keeping company with anybody?
I'm not."
The girl shook her head and half-closed her eyes.
"Certainly not," she said slowly. "I don't like men.
Heaps and heaps have asked me, but I've always
said 'No.' I prefer my liberty."
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The Castaways
The boatswain gazed at her with ardour. "Per-
haps you haven't met the right one," he said hope-
fully.
There was no reply, and he ventured a little
closer. The second mate was on the bridge, a
man of kindly nature and tolerant views. More-
over, he was out of earshot.
"Why don't you come for'ard a bit oftener?"
breathed the boatswain.
"Come forward? What for?" inquired the girl,
bending over the stocking she was darning.
Mr. Tarn came a little closer still. "Ter see
me!" he said tenderly.
"Phh! I see quite enough of you," was the
reply. "Besides, you're the sort of man that looks
best a long way off."
The boatswain drew back, gasping. The little
bit of broken looking-glass nailed to the side of
his bunk told a much more flattering tale. He
gazed at the fluffy head bent over its work and
tried again.
" 'Sides which," he said slowly, "there's more
breeze for'ard, and if there's anything to see you
see it fust, and and Why, your little shoe's
undone !"
He knelt down to adjust it, just as a sharp cough
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The Castaways
sounded from behind. He turned his head to sec
Mr. Markham emerging from the smoke-room.
"Pore stooard," he said, as the butler ap-
proached; "he's got a cold, ain't he? Or p'r'aps
it's a fish-bone stuck in 'is throat. Well, he ought
to wait till they've finished."
"You've no business talking to lady passengers,
bo'sun," said the butler sharply.
"You're right, matey," retorted Mr. Tarn.
"This ain't bisness, it's pleasure. I'm teaching the
lady 'ow to tie knots; she won't undo this not if
she tries for hours and hours."
"What?" exclaimed the girl sharply.
"When you want to take 'em off," said the boat-
swain, beaming at her as he rose to his feet, "you
come to me. You come to me every morning to
do 'em up and every night to undo 'em. Bless you,
I like work. Here, I'll darn that for you."
"Bo'sun, you forget yourself," cried the butler,
as Miss Mudge drew back quickly.
"What, ain't you gone yet?" inquired Mr. Tarn,
with affected surprise. "What about washing up
them plates and licking the grease off the knives?
Don't look like that; you'll break something."
"I wish you two would go away and quarrel
somewhere else," said the highly gratified Miss
177
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Mudge. "How do you think I can get on with
my work?"
"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Biggs, who
had just sidled up. "Are these men annoying you ?"
"They make me nervous," said Miss Mudge.
"I'm so afraid there'll be bloodshed."
"Butler," said Mr. Biggs gravely, "you ought to
be below; your engines'll stop if you neglect your
stoking like this. I looked down through the sky-
light as I passed, and I saw the furnace-doors all
open in a row waiting for you to shove your burnt-
offerings into 'em."
"I don't want any of your vulgarity," returned
the butler hotly. "That's not the way to speak
of your master and his friends."
"Get off to your duty, my man," said Mr. Biggs.
"I shouldn't like you to lose your job you'd never
get another. And I was going to tell the bo'sun
that the first officer wants a word with him, but I
don't think I will."
The boatswain, with a languishing glance, with-
drew somewhat hastily, and Mr. Biggs, leaning
against the side with his back to the butler, bent
over Miss Mudge. Mr. Markham, after a short
inward struggle, returned to his duties.
"You'll cause a lot of trouble if you're not care-
ful," said Biggs.
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The Castaways
"Me?" said the girl plaintively. "I'm sure I
can't help it. You don't think I want to be pestered
out of my life by a parcel of silly men, do you?
I'd much rather be alone. I don't want to talk
to anybody. I want to sit quiet."
Her companion coughed. "The idea of the
bo'sun worrying you with his silly talk!" he said,
after a pause. "Cheek!"
"It's no sillier than what I am used to," said
Miss Mudge resignedly. "He's no worse than the
others. I rather like him in a way; he reminds
me of a friend of mine who's a sailor. Leastways,
he's an engineer a real engineer."
"What do you mean by a 'real' engineer?" de-
manded Biggs, somewhat shortly.
"Why, a proper engineer," replied the girl. "A
gentleman who has got certificates and passed ex-
aminations, and all that sort of thing."
Mr. Biggs controlled himself by an effort; ex-
perience had taught him the danger of displaying
temper. He smiled loftily.
"There's not much to learn in a ship's engines,"
he said. "I know about all there is to know al-
ready. But I shall stick to cars. The sea wouldn't
do for me; I'm fond of home."
"But but you might get married some day,"
objected the girl.
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The Castaways
"Well?" said the other, staring.
"And then it would be much nicer for everybody
if you went to sea. I'm sure your wife would like
it better."
Mr. Biggs had another inward struggle, and the
issue was still undecided when Albert, appearing at
the door of the smoke-room, came slowly forward
and sat down on the deck a couple of yards from
them. The chauffeur glared at him in disgust, and
a smothered exclamation broke from him as the
boy drew a mouth-organ from his pocket and gave
it a preparatory wipe on his sleeve.
"Run away," growled Biggs.
Albert shook his head. "I've as much right to
be here as what you have," he said. "I've put
the things straight in the smoke-room, and Mr.
Markham said I could come out and amuse my-
self. What piece would you like?"
He put the instrument to his lips, and the strains
of "A Life on the Ocean Wave" floated over the
placid sea. His eyes were half-closed with the
ecstasy of the artist, but nevertheless he kept a
shrewd watch on the movements of the palpitating
Mr. Biggs.
"Now you run off," repeated Mr. Biggs, in a
grim voice, when the boy had finished. "Run off,
before you get hurt."
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The Castaways
"It don't hurt me," said Albert simply. "It does
me good. Dr. Maloney says that playing wind in-
struments is good for the lungs. He told me so
yesterday."
He raised the mouth-organ again and played
"Home, Sweet Home" with variations and much
feeling.
"Why don't you go to the other end of the ship ?"
growled the infuriated chauffeur.
" 'Cos I like this end," said Albert, finishing a
passage. "Why don't you go?"
Mr. Biggs looked at Miss Mudge, but that lady
made no sign. Then, turning his head, he saw the
butler standing in the doorway of the smoke-room.
His hands were folded in front of him and a ser-
aphic smile played over his features as he stood
gazing over the everlasting sea.
181
CHAPTER XV
EXCEPT for an occasion on which Miss
Mudge was lost at Colombo and was brought
back to the ship by three Cingalese gentle-
men in striped petticoats with their hair done up
in a bun, the voyage progressed without incident.
Between ports nothing happened to break the mo-
notony of the days, and, in these circumstances, even
the youngest and fairest began to attach an impor-
tance to meal-times that was totally lacking on shore.
Some of the older members began to put on flesh,
and Mr. Pope, confronted by the twin evils of cor-
pulence and a liver that clamoured for attention,
laid his case before the doctor.
"No good coming to me," said Maloney
brusquely; "you ought to see a magistrate."
"Magistrate? What for?" demanded the other,
staring.
"Six months' hard labour," replied the doctor.
"I've seen your kind before. What you want me
to do is to give you something in a bottle that will
work miracles; an antidote for four heavy meals
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a day and strong cigars in between. How many
old brandies did you have after dinner last night?"
"Two," said Pope slowly. "There's no need to
look like that; you had three."
"Absence of mind," declared the doctor. "I was
thinking out a problem in medical science. It might
just as well have been water; I shouldn't have
known."
"You work out problems every night, then," said
Pope, "and I've never seen you take water with
them yet. It's a bad example for a doctor to set;
naturally other people think it is right to do what
he does."
"It's wasting good breath on you to argue," said
Maloney, "and it's wasting the best possible medi-
cal skill to try and treat you."
"I'm going to be treated all the same, though,"
declared Pope, breathing hard.
Maloney shrugged his shoulders. "All right;
come along, then," he said cheerfully. "I'll mix
you up a little bottle."
"Will it do me any good?" inquired the patient.
"Not the least in the world," was the reply.
"It's merely to put your mind at ease. Fortified
with the mixture (two table-spoonfuls three times
a day), you will indulge more than ever."
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The Castaways
"But I want to be treated properly," protested
Pope. "I want to get well."
"Will you put yourself into my hands?" demanded
the doctor.
Pope eyed him uneasily. "Of course," he said
at last, "with
"No Sviths,' " said the other sternly, "and no
mental reservations. It's a bad case, a case that
most men would jib at, but if you promise to do
exactly as I tell you I'll undertake it."
"I've always understood that any sudden
change " began Pope.
The doctor turned to Knight, who had just come
up with Talwyn and Tollhurst. "He's going to
teach me my business now," he said despairingly.
"All right," said Pope gruffly, "do as you like."
"You hear," said Maloney, turning to the audi-
ence. "My patient has placed himself unreservedly
in my hands. Two months' treatment, and he will
be a convert to the simple life. His taste for al-
cohol, tobacco, and strong meats will be entirely
eradicated, and the dinner-bell will serve merely to
remind him of past errors."
Mr. Pope began his treatment the same day, and
dined simply and healthfully off a pint of hot water.
Conversation in his immediate neighbourhood
languished, and it was a relief to all when he arose
184
and, with unpleasant emphasis, announced his in-
tention of going on deck for a mouthful of fresh
air.
Conditions were relaxed next day. He break-
fasted off dry toast, lunched off biscuits, and for
dinner was allowed both, his sole reward consist-
ing in the praise accorded to his strength of mind;
praise chorused by his friends between savoury
mouthfuls and brimming beakers.
Diet and exercise were the two principal remedies
in the doctor's medicine chest, and in arranging the
latter to suit Mr. Pope's wishes a little inconvenience
was occasioned to others. The patient naturally
objected to performing skipping and other exercises
before an audience of candid, and in some cases
outspoken, friends, and in these circumstances the
doctor agreed to get up and superintend them at
six in the morning.
"Everybody will be asleep at that time," he said
encouragingly, "except the crew, and they'll be too
busy washing decks to bother about you."
Mr. Pope raised another objection.
"Cold water won't hurt you," said the doctor,
"and for the lying down turn you can have a rug.
There's one beautiful exercise where you lie on
your back and describe circles with your legs. It's
the one Adonis used to do."
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The Castaways
Mr. Pope made a few remarks about Adonis
which were mercifully carried away by the wind
and sterilised by the ocean.
"If you rise at six and do your exercises," said
the doctor, regarding him steadfastly, "you shall
have a slice of lean meat with your lunch; if you
do them well you shall have another slice' for
dinner."
Whether it was the promised reward or mere
strength of mind, the patient quitted his bunk next
morning at six o'clock, and in bare feet and purple
pyjamas followed Maloney to the deck.
"A gentle walk round first," said the doctor;
"the wet is good for your feet."
They took a dozen turns and then, at his com-
mand, broke into a double. The officer on the
bridge leaned over to watch them.
"Now for the exercises," said the doctor, after
four rounds. "Where's that rug?"
He spread it on the deck behind the drawing-
room and, lying on his back with his legs close
together, raised them slowly and described circles
in the air. Pope, still panting from his exertions,
stood by watching coldly.
"Now you try," said Maloney, springing up.
"Flat on your back and your legs extended to
begin with."
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AlFRED SAHTEU
The Castaways
"I've got a touch of lumbago this morning,"
growled the patient.
"It's a cure for lumbago," was the reply.
"Down you go."
Mr. Pope got down and, the doctor having
pressed his shoulders to the rug and walked all
round, peering at him from different angles, com-
menced his instructions.
"At the word 'One,' " he said slowly, "raise both
feet from the deck. O-one ! There's no need for
you to raise your head to look at them. Nobody
wants to steal them. Now, begin again : 'O-one !'
There's nothing to giggle at!"
"I'm not giggling," said Pope indignantly.
"You were making some fizzy noise," said his
instructor. "Keep your mouth shut and breathe
through your nose. Now."
Mr. Pope had completed three circles, and was
half-way through the fourth, when the sound of
a faint agonised moan brought his feet down and
his head round with great swiftness. The form of
Miss Blake disappeared around the corner of the
drawing-room as though withdrawn by some power-
ful but invisible agency. Stifled sounds issued from
within.
"Don't take any notice of them," counselled the
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The Castaways
doctor, as Pope, very red of face, scrambled to
his feei
"It was the pup-pup-pup-purple pies that upset
me," wailed the voice of Miss Blake. "Didn't he
look a dream ! And his little pink to-to-toes wav-
ing in the air! Oh! Oh!! Oh!!!"
Judging by the inflection of 'the voices within,
the sufferer was getting but scant sympathy. Ma-
loney put his head in at the door and saw Knight
and Peplow, with Miss Seacombe, gazing disdain-
fully at Miss Blake, whose face was buried in a
sofa cushion.
"And what's the meaning of it all?" demanded
the doctor. "And why are you all up at this time?"
"Well, if you come to that, why are you up?"
retorted Knight.
"Duty," said the other. "I'm looking after my
patient's interests. He has now retreated to his
cabin; and the exercises only just begun!"
"Well, let him do 'em in his cabin in future,"
said Knight. "We don't want purple acrobats first
thing in the morning. It's a disturbing influence."
Maloney shook his head. "He's going to do
'em on deck in the fresh air," he said firmly.
"You'll have to get up later."
"We were here first," said Knight.
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The Castaways
"Early Rising Brigade," explained Peplow, nod-
ding.
"Been established for weeks," added Knight.
Maloney grinned. "Why didn't you tell me?"
he inquired.
"Because the number is limited to four," said
Knight, as Miss Seacombe, with a slight elevation
of her head, passed out, followed by Miss Blake.
"You get your man up at five and let him get his
contortions over before we appear, there's a good
chap."
Maloney shook his head. "If you'd heard him
when I mentioned six o'clock you wouldn't ask it,"
he replied.
"Very well, we'll keep to the other end of the
deck," said Knight restlessly. "What is more, we
will stay in the smoke-room."
"I'll put it to him," said the doctor doubtfully.
"I want to do all I can for you young people,
but of course my patients stand first. Pope is an
interesting case a sort of overgrown rose-bush I'm
going to prune down."
"I expect he is waiting for you and the prun-
ing knife," said Knight. "Don't let us keep you.
Duty first."
"Four's company," assented Maloney, with a
nod; "five is good company."
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The Castaways
"I wish you'd get your rose-bush to do his exer-
cises after we are all in bed," said Knight, button-
holing him as he turned to go. "If the other people
get to hear of them they'll be getting up early too."
"We must take the risk," said the other blandly.
"Good thing for them if they do, but I don't think
they'd make a practice of it. Once would be
enough."
The news, as Knight had foreseen, soon leaked
out. For once Miss Mudge found the boatswain's
conversation interesting, his description of Mr.
Pope's skipping in particular being so well received
that he began to entertain a high opinion of his
powers as a raconteur.
"You ought to see 'im; you'd burst," he said
tenderly.
Miss Mudge received the suggestion coldly.
"Or else 'ave a fit," urged Mr. Tarn, eying
her hopefully.
"It wouldn't amuse me," said the girl in a su-
perior voice. "And I hope I'm too much of a
lady to get up at six in the morning to look at
any gentleman that ever was born, especially (she
shivered slightly) when he is not dressed to receive
visitors."
"I don't see no 'arm in it," said the disappointed
boatswain. "Now suppose, for the sake of argy-
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ment, it was you instead o' Mr. Pope, why every
man Jack of us would "
He broke off suddenly as Miss Mudge, closing
her book with a bang, gathered up her work and
stalked off with her head in the air. He returned
with a sigh to his duty of finding fault with men
who had neglected theirs.
It is sad to relate that Lady Penrose displayed
less refinement in the matter than her maid. In-
deed, Miss Mudge had no sooner informed her,
with all due respect, of Mr. Pope's early morn-
ing exercises than she was formulating plans for
witnessing them.
"Easiest thing in the world," said Carstairs, to
whom she confided her desire. "Get up at ten to
six to-morrow morning, and lie in wait for him in
the smoke-room or somewhere. I'll get up too if
I may."
"Do you think he would mind?" inquired Lady
Penrose, with somewhat belated consideration.
"Why should he?" said Carstairs. "Besides, he
won't know. We shall have the smoke-room all
to ourselves at that hour, and not a soul will be
any the wiser."
They had the smoke-room to themselves next
morning for exactly two minutes, at the end of
which time the door opened and admitted Miss
191
The Castaways
Blake. A startled "Oh!" sufficiently expressed her
opinion of the situation. Knight and Peplow, who
followed with Miss Seacombe, maintained a discreet
silence.
A faint shadow flitted across the face of Lady
Penrose. "Dear me," she said, recovering with
a little laugh, "you are up early!"
"Healthy," said Knight briefly.
"How interesting!" murmured Lady Penrose.
"Have you been taking this prescription for long?"
"Not very," said Knight suavely. "Not longer
than you and Carstairs will, I hope."
"We came here to see Mr. Pope," said Lady
JPenrose.
Knight bowed. "We came on the same errand
four of us," he added somewhat pointedly.
"Pope who is a sensitive plant usually performs
aft."
In the somewhat constrained silence that followed
an odd pattering noise was heard outside, and, be-
fore anybody could close the door, Pope, who was
doing a sort of frog exercise with bent knees and
knuckles on the deck, passed in a bound. Maloney,
who was following up behind, put his head in at
the door and glared at them.
"Is it a mothers' meeting or what?" he inquired
indignantly. "How do you think my patient is to
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preserve his equilibrium when he is exposed to this
sort of thing?"
"Perhaps he didn't see us," suggested Peplow.
"He did," said the doctor heatedly. "He has
now disappeared below, and I would not like to
repeat the language he is using. How is a medical
man to do himself justice when he is interfered
with like this?"
"Do you think that this ship is reserved for you
and your precious patient?" demanded Miss Sea-
combe with some heat.
"That we are to stay in bed until you tell us
to get up?" added Miss Blake.
"Perhaps you'd like to lock us in our cabins?"
suggested Mr. Peplow.
"Not you," said the doctor significantly. "I
should like to give you the same treatment that
I'm giving Pope. Do you a lot of good."
"Same treatment as Pope? What for?" de-
manded the startled Mr. Peplow.
"Anybody'll tell you," said the doctor darkly as
he withdrew.
"What does he mean?" inquired Mr. Peplow,
looking around. "I'm perfectly healthy. I take
all the exercise I can get. I've been up at six
every morning for the last six "
"Six?" prompted Lady Penrose gently.
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The Castaways
"Hours," continued Mr. Peplow, a trifle con-
fused by the ferocity of Mr. Knight's glance.
"I'm ure you have done all you can do," said
Lady Penrose in a sympathetic voice. "I had no
idea you were so energetic. You make me thor-
oughly ashamed of my laziness. I must try and
follow your example."
"If it's to see my patient my late patient
you want to get up early," said Maloney, appear-
ing again, "you can give up the idea."
"Late patient!" repeated Carstairs, with a start.
The doctor nodded. "He is in the steward's
pantry," he said gloomily. "Markham has taken
the case out of my {lands, and is treating it with
slices of cold ham."
194
S
CHAPTER XVI
4 '""* O far so good," said Lady Penrose, with a
half-sigh. "It really seems that we are
going to sail round the world without
meeting a single adventure."
"Do you want one?" inquired Carstairs.
"A little one, perhaps," was the reply. "Just a
little thrill of some sort; something a little out of
the common of everyday life. A shipwrecked crew
to rescue, or something of that sort. Fancy being
out in a little boat in this darkness alone with the
stars and the water!"
"Deprived of food and drink, and Pope's ver-
sion of the 'Bay of Biscay,' " said Carstairs, as
heroic bellowings and the tinkle of a piano sounded
from the drawing-room.
"He is quite himself again now," said Lady Pen-
rose. "He says that he dismissed his doctor just
in time."
"Awkward if he has to call him in again,') said
Carstairs, with a smile. "Maloney warns him that
purgatory would be easy compared with his next
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course of treatment. I'm afraid he has an idea
that some of us are too self-indulgent. Yesterday
he accused Knight of being too soft, and they had
a turn with the gloves before breakfast this morn-
ing to settle it."
"I heard of it," said Lady Penrose dryly. "Mr.
Knight does most useless things well."
"Maloney would agree with you about the box-
ing, at any rate," replied Carstairs. "He is still
sore about it, but what hurt him more than any-
thing was that, after giving him a thorough dust-
ing, Knight admitted the charge of softness and
asked for a tonic."
His companion gave a faint laugh. "It might
have done Mr. Knight a little good to be de-
feated," she remarked.
Carstairs nodded. "One or two other altruists
took the same view," he said slowly. "They brought
up one of the firemen, who rather fancies himself
in that line, and the result is that they are a man
short in the stoke-hole to-day. The skipper com-
plained to me about it. He seemed most annoyed
because he hadn't been called up to see it. 'Stop
it,' he said, but I knew what he meant."
"You men are all alike," said Lady Penrose,
shrugging her shoulders. "It is horrible."
"Shocking," said Carstairs; "but I agree with
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you that it might do Knight good to meet his master
at the game. Whom could we find?"
Lady Penrose leaned back, considering. "Cap-
tain Tollhurst," she suggested at last.
"Tollhurst!" exclaimed Carstairs, with surprise.
"Do you really think he could stand up to Knight?"
"No," was the reply.
"Well, then "
"Might do Captain Tollhurst good," said Lady
Penrose, maintaining her gravity by an effort.
Carstairs eyes twinkled safely in the darkness.
"You want to do good to so many people," he
murmured. "The saintly side of your character is
uppermost to-night."
"How dull for you!" said Lady Penrose. "I'm
so sorry. Is Mr. Pope really going to sing 'Tom
Bowling'?" she added, as the opening chorus of
the piano and a modest cough were heard.
"I'm afraid so," said Carstairs.
They sat almost in silence until the song was
finished, two remarks of his being first suspended
and then entirely lost owing to the interest occa-
sioned by the efforts of the vocalist to reach his
top-note.
"Pity he never married," said Lady Penrose as
the song ended amid general applause; "a good
wife would burn the piano if she couldn't stop him
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The Castaways
any other way. I believe men remain single to
avoid criticism."
"There are other reasons," said Carstairs mus-
ingly. "You haven't considered man's shyness and
his general sense of unworthiness. If it's a genuine
case he usually puts his idol on a pedestal; she
can't climb down for fear of making a false step,
and he is afraid to reach up to help her."
"But if they do happen to marry," inquired Lady
Penrose, "what becomes of the pedestal?"
"They put the first-born on it," replied Carstairs.
"He generally wears it out."
"You must have devoted a lot of time to the
subject," remarked Lady Penrose. "I believe you
are the sort of man that would build an Eiffel
Tower for the lady. You would end by making
her giddy."
"How easy it is to be misunderstood," sighed
Carstairs. "As a matter of fact, the methods of
certain savage races I have read about appeal to
me much more strongly. They give the adored one
a tap over the head with a club and the thing is
done."
"Other men, other manners," said Lady Penrose,
"but it comes to much the same thing in the end.
I have no doubt that the maidens of the tribe make
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the clubs. You ought to go out there, Mr. Car-
stairs. I am sure the output would go up."
Carstairs hesitated. "If you think that," he
said at last, "I will remain here."
A dark figure stepped out of the lighted door-
way and came towards them.
"Coming out of the light, I can hardly see where
I am," said Tollhurst, dropping into a chair next
to Lady Penrose. "What a peaceful night!"
"It doesn't suit Lady Penrose," said Carstairs;
"she has been sighing for adventure."
The captain laughed gently. "Better without
them," he returned. "What could be better than
this? And, after all, things are always possible at
sea. There is always a chance of running into a
submerged wreck. I have had that experience once,
and I can assure you I don't want it again. Or
fire; think of a fire at sea, and putting off in small
boats hundreds of miles from the nearest landl"
"Have you had that experience, too?" inquired
Lady Penrose.
The captain wrestled fiercely with the temptation.
"No," he said at last; and, in view of his ques-
tioner's comments, felt sure that he had chosen the
better part.
"I had an alarm of fire once," he said, break-
ing a somewhat prolonged silence. "Ten years ago
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in an old barque bound for Archangel. Nasty while
it lasted, but we got it under in three or four hours."
"Interesting life," murmured Lady Penrose.
"You ought to write a book, Captain Tollhurst."
The captain laughed his gentle laugh again. "No
good," he said, shaking his head. "I couldn't write
a line. Fellows who write the best books are the
fellows who have never seen anything."
"I think you could write a splendid book," de-
clared Lady Penrose with warmth.
"Awfully good of you," said the unconscious
captain. "Wish I could. Should ask permission
to dedicate it to you."
Lady Penrose murmured her acknowledgments.
"Happenings in books are well enough," said
Carstairs; "that is where I prefer to enjoy mine."
"Every man to his trade," said the captain in-
dulgently. "It is just a matter of use. I have
been knocking about since my boyhood. Soon
after I left the Army I was big-game hunting in
Africa, and I didn't speak to a white man for
nine months."
"Poor things!" said Lady Penrose. "I mean
the animals you killed in that time," she added, as
the captain moved uneasily. "You must have ac-
counted for a lot."
"I didn't miss many," said the captain, lighting
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a cigarette. He leaned back in his chair and, be-
coming reminiscent, related a few of the more
exciting episodes. Lightly and easily he skipped
from peril to peril, until at last Lady Penrose, with
a sharp intake of breath that might have been mis-
understood for sympathy, rose suddenly and bade
her companions "good night."
"I'm afraid perhaps I was a little bit too
realistic," said Tollhurst, as she disappeared below.
"Well, I'm off too. Good night."
Carstairs nodded and, lighting another cigarette,
sat for some time in thought. His guests came out
of the drawing-room in twos and threes and, after
loitering in little groups, dispersed to bed. Knight
and Peplow, after leaning against the side opposite
him for some time, crossed over and took the two
empty chairs.
"Nothing on his conscience," remarked Knight
presently; "quite unperturbed."
"Quite," said Peplow dutifully.
"He seems to 'be asleep," said Knight, after wait-
ing for some time. "He inveigles us on to this
beastly little ship of his and then shuts his eyes
to things."
"Perhaps he is asleep," remarked the useful Mr.
Peplow.
"Sleepy," said Carstairs, with a yawn; "but don't
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mind me, just go on with your little chat. I am
going to turn in soon."
"Not till we've done with you," said Knight.
"We consider that we were lured on to this pluto-
cratic craft under false pretences, and we want to
know what you are going to do about it. When
we accepted your invitation we thought that there
would be a certain amount of 'sitting-out,' so to
speak, and instead of that it's like living in the
midst of a public meeting."
"We could leave you behind at Melbourne,"
suggested Carstairs.
"You've got hold of the wrong end of the stick,"
said Knight; "we don't want to be left behind, but
if you could arrange to leave some of the others
it would be just the thing. It only wants a little
thinking out."
"I'll go and think it over now," said Carstairs,
rising. "I can think better in bed. Good night."
"We haven't finished yet/' said KnigTit. "Freddie
has got a lot to say. Go on, Freddie; tell him
how we agreed to do all in our power to help
him."
"Help me!" repeated Carstairs, with a slight
laugh. "What are you talking about?"
"You know," said Knight significantly. "He
knows, doesn't he, Freddie?"
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Mr. Peplow swallowed. "Yes," he replied.
"C~ "
oo so
"Yes?" said Carstairs, after a pause.
"So does everybody else," finished Mr. Peplow,
with an effort.
"And you have our full consent and blessing,"
added Knight. "In fact, we think it might be a
good thing for both of us; anyway, things couldn't
be much worse."
"I haven't the least idea what you are talking
about," said Carstairs somewhat stiffly.
"That's all right, then," said Knight; "but, if you
really want to know, ask Miss Flack, or Mrs. Jar-
dine, or Talwyn, or Not now," he added, as
Carstairs walked away; "they're all in bed."
"Stuffy!" said Peplow sagely as Carstairs van-
ished.
"So am I," said his friend. "Come along. Let's
have a walk up and down; for once we are alone.
Why! Halloa, Biggs 1"
"Good evening, sir," said Biggs. "I just come
for'ard for a blow before turning in.",
"And I am just going to have a whiskey and soda
before doing the same. It's you that ought to have
it, really after that hot engine-room."
"Thank you, sir," said the chauffeur. "If there
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isn't enough to go round, I shall watch you drink
it with pleasure."
They entered the smoke-room just as Markham
was having a final look round. At a word from
Knight he busied himself with the whiskey and a
siphon.
"Turned a bit pale, hasn't it?" murmured Mr.
Biggs, as he took the glass from his old enemy;
"but perhaps it is the motion of the ship."
"Colour it yourself," said Knight. "I suppose it's
in order to give you a drink," he added, as the
chauffeur complied. "I mean, the skipper wouldn't
object."
"Just what I was wondering, sir," said Mr. Biggs
cheerfully. "I expect he would; it seems to me it's
what skippers are for to object to things. But
even an admiral couldn't help himself now. It's
gone."
He said good night, and with a wink at the butler,
which elicited only an icy stare in response, went off
to his quarters.
Mr. Peplow's. gloom, never of a very lasting na-
ture, passed with the night. Any lingering trace was
dispelled by the fresh morning air, with its appetising
blend of grilled bacon and coffee, and the news that
Mrs. Jardine was confined to her cabin with one of
her traditional headaches a headache that had been
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in the family for generations, and was rumoured to
have been a source of considerable trouble to the
Plantagenets.
He sat in the smoke-room after lunch with a cigar-
ette and a book, until the former expired from lack
of attention and the latter sustained injuries to its
back from a sudden fall. He opened his eyes at
last to see the laughing face of Miss Blake framed
in the doorway.
"I was just going to fetch Miss Flack," she re-
marked; "the poor thing wants gloves badly. She
was talking about it yesterday."
"I wasn't asleep," said Mr. Peplow. "Where is
she?"
"Playing bridge," was the reply. "Isabel is sit-
ting with aunt, and, as nearly everybody else is
playing cards, I thought I'd come and talk to you.
Still, if you'd rather sleep "
"Sleep!" exclaimed the other, in a deep voice.
"Have you realised that I've not had a word alone
with you for weeks?"
"Really?" said the girl carelessly. "I hadn't no-
ticed it."
"When it isn't Mrs. Jardine, it's Miss Flack,'*
continued Mr. Peplow, "and when they snatch a few
brief moments from duty Talwyn mounts guard."
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The Castaways
"What are you talking about?" inquired Miss
Blake.
"Never mind," said Mr. Peplow. "It's no good
wasting time grousing. Let us improve the shining
hours."
"How?"
"Let us talk," said Peplow tenderly.
"That will be improving," said the girl.
"That's right," said Peplow gloomily, "make fun
of me. When you smiled so nicely at me just
now "
"I?" said Miss Blake. "Smiled? I was laughing
at you. You've no idea how funny you looked.
Your mouth was open, and you were snoring like a
baby with the snuffles."
Mr. Peplow stiffened in his chair. "I'm sorry I
woke up as I was affording you so much amuse-
ment," he said with dignity.
"So am I," said Miss Blake, with a sudden change
of manner. "However, I won't disturb you," and
she went off with her head at an angle.
"She's gone," murmured the amazed Peplow.
"She's actually gone. Well!"
He went outside and, finding the deck deserted,
threw himself into a lounge-chair and sat scowling
at the universe. The skipper, passing on his way
to the chart-room, pulled up and smiled affably.
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"Couldn't improve on the weather," he remarked,
crumpling his fringe of grey beard in his fist.
Mr. Peplow assented without enthusiasm.
"Where are we for next?" he inquired.
"Australian ports," replied Captain Vobster,
"New Zealand; call in at some of the South Sea
Islands, and then home."
Mr. Peplow sighed. "The islands ought to be
interesting," he remarked. "Pick out a nice little
one, cap'n, with nobody else on it, and leave me
there. I'm going to turn beach-comber. I retire
from the world."
"Very nice life too," said the accommodating
skipper, "for a single man; married ones too, some-
times. I knew one man that did it. Ran away from
his wife to punish her, and after twenty years of it
found that she had come in for a fortune soon after
he disappeared and married again. Time he got
back found they'd run through it all. Spoilt his
life for him, poor chap."
Mr. Peplow said "Oh f" and turned with a beam-
ing and forgiving smile to Miss Blake as she came
quietly up to them.
"Though I've known some people take to the
beach and get tired of it in a week," continued the
skipper.
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Mr. Peplow, who was gazing ardently at Miss
Blake, said "Ah!"
"Some of 'em get melancholy," explained the
skipper.
"Really," said Miss Blake, as she took a chair
next to Peplow.
"Suicidal almost."
There was a somewhat constrained silence as his
audience, with their hands folded, sat staring straight
in front of them.
"It's the loneliness," said the skipper, who felt
that he was making an impression.
"H'm/" said both.
"A man has time to sit and think."
"H'm!"
Captain Vobster paused. There was a feeling in
the atmosphere for which he was utterly unable to
account, and he stood scratching the side of his nose,
possessed with a horrible idea that he had said some-
thing wrong. He glanced at them in perplexity,
and then, suddenly clapping his hand over his mouth,
went off with his eyes dancing. Slight sounds es-
caped on his way to the chart-room.
"What an ill-bred man!" exclaimed Miss Blake,
gazing after him.
"Shocking," agreed the other.
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"I I am not going to remain here to be laughed
at," continued the girl. "The idea!"
"He wasn't laughing at you," said Peplow hastily,
"and he has gone now. How wonderfully well you
are looking! What was old Talwyn talking to you
about at lunch?"
"Different things," replied the girl. "Don't stare
like that; it's rude."
"I'm not staring," said Mr. Peplow ardently.
"I'm worshipping."
"Well, it's not nice," said Miss Blake, who had
an uneasy feeling that she had come back too easily.
"It's just the way you eyed the beef at lunch."
"Eyed the beef?" repeated the choking Mr. Pep-
low. "Do you think I care what I eat?"
"Of course you do," said Miss Blake. "Every-
body notices it. You have got an excellent appetite,
and I am only talking to you for your good. If
you are not careful you'll get quite chubby."
"That'll do," said Mr. Peplow thickly.
"Do !" exclaimed the incensed Miss Blake, spring-
ing to her feet. "Do! How dare you talk to me
like that? What do you mean by it?"
She stood looking at him as a blackbird might
look at a worm that had tried to bite it. Then,
with an indignant exclamation, she went off.
Mr. Peplow made no effort to detain her. A
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picture of indignant misery, he sat lumpishly in his
chair, scowling darkly at the deck.
"Halloa !" said Carstairs, coming out of the draw-
ing-room. "All alone?"
"I like being alone," said Mr. Peplow, in a deep
voice.
"Do you, though," said Carstairs, eying him with
some interest.
"I don't wish to be bothered with people," con-
tinued Mr. Peplow. "Let them go their way and
I'll go mine."
"Poor old man!" said Carstairs, smiling. "I
know what's the matter with you."
"Oh!" said Mr. Peplow offensively.
Carstairs nodded. "Indigestion."
"Eh!" shouted Peplow, starting up as though he
had been stung. "Look here, Carstairs, I don't
know what you mean, but I've had enough of it.
It's a vile conspiracy. It's it's an infernal plant."
"What on earth's the matter?" inquired the mar-
velling Carstairs.
"You you've been talking to Miss Blake," cried
Peplow, trembling with rage.
"Well, so do you when you get the chance," said
Carstairs, in a soothing voice. "You don't want to
monopolise the poor girl entirely, do you? Why
shouldn't I speak to her? And I talk to her about
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you, my boy. Only yesterday I was saying how fat
and well you "
He drew back suddenly as Mr. Peplow, with an
inarticulate yell, sprang to his feet and stood mouth-
ing at him. For some time the young man stood
struggling in vain for speech; then he turned with
a wild gesture and stamped his way below.
2TT
CHAPTER XVII
MISS FLACK in a moment of enthusiasm
said that the voyage was like a long rail-
way journey, with delightful ports instead
of stations. She averred that she had learnt more
geography in a few months than in all the years
spent at school; and only a week after leaving Auck-
land spoke warmly of the beautiful Sydney harbour
at Melbourne.
In Polynesia she forsook geography for art, the
beauty of Tahiti affecting her so strongly that she
sought to express her emotions in verse. To the
sympathetic Carstairs, who caught her in the act of
tearing up paper and dropping the pieces overboard,
she confessed that the subject was too great for her,
and that she would have to rely upon memory and
the inspiration of the moment when she wished to
do justice to it. Her enthusiasm was shared by the
others, and the Starlight by general request contin-
ued to cruise among the islands. Monarchs and
their dusky followers were received on board, and
Albert thrilled pleasantly when he saw the firearms
provided for their entertainment in case of need.
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"Not much chance of unpleasantness," explained
Captain Vobster to Pope, "but, if there is any, my
idea is always to be more unpleasant than the other
fellow."
"Very good plan, too," said Pope approvingly.
To Albert's secret disappointment, however, the
skipper's precautions proved unnecessary. Good-
fellowship and fair dealing were the order of the
day, and the decks of the yacht were almost smoth-
ered at times in gifts. Fruit, vegetables, chickens,
and pigs were supplied in abundance ; the night Pope
found five little pigs, decorated with pink ribbons,
tied up in his bed being a memorable one in the
annals of the voyage. The crowd that stood out-
side awaiting events fled in disorder at his appear-
ance, and seeking sanctuary behind locked cabin
doors earnestly assured him that it was not the
animals' fault, and that nothing was further from
their wishes than to have him for a bed-fellow.
"Pope was quite crusty about it," said Knight,
recounting the affair next day to Miss Seacombe.
"He hasn't quite got over it yet."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said
the girl.
"We are," said Knight. "But never mind about
old Pope and his troubles. It is delightful to get
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you by yourself for five minutes. Quite like old
times."
"I like company," said Miss Seacombe thought-
fully.
"You've got what you like, then, on board this
blessed ship," retorted Mr. Knight, with some heat.
"I suppose," said the girl dreamily, "I suppose if
Mr. Maloney were holding my hand the man on
the bridge would think he was feeling my pulse."
"Con-found the man on the bridge !" said Knight,
dropping her hand hastily. "That's what I complain
about; you can never get away from people here.
How delightful it would be if we were the only
two on board!"
"A bit dull," said Miss Seacombe.
"Dull !" exclaimed Knight sharply. "Dull I"
"For you," said the girl peaceably.
"Where's that brigand on the bridge got to?"
inquired Knight, groping for her hand.
"Half in the wheel-house, but he will be out again
in a minute or two. I expect he only went in there
to laugh. It must seem rather funny to an on-
looker."
"He had better not let me see him being funny,"
growled Knight.
"Poor thing," said Miss Seacombe softly. "Did-
dums, then !"
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"And do try and be serious," said Knight sternly.
"What about running off and getting married?
When we get ashore, I mean, of course," he added,
as the girl waved towards the sea.
"No good," she said seriously; "bread and cheese,
and and the usual concomitants are all very well
in theory, in practice you would find the diet rather
monotonous."
Knight sat considering. "I believe if we were
once married and she couldn't help herself, Lady
Penrose would come round," he said slowly. "Won-
der what it is she sees in me to object to?"
"It is strange, isn't it?" said the girl. "I think,
for one thing, she has an idea that you are a slacker.
She has got no patience with men who don't work,
you know. Then I don't think she likes your man-
ner much. Some people don't."
"What's it got to do with her?" demanded the
indignant Knight. "You like it?"
Miss Seacombe nodded. "It's your only charm,"
she murmured.
"Besides, I'm going to work," continued Knight.
"I've been thinking a lot about it lately. Difficulty
is to find something suitable. Can't you suggest
something? I could drop it as soon as we were
married."
He glanced hopefully at his companion, until it
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became evident that he had given her a problem
which was in no immediate danger of being solved.
After a long silence he came to her assistance.
"What about the stage?" he inquired.
"Or grand opera?" said the girl demurely. "You
only seem to think of the agreeable things, you know.
You want to be paid for amusing yourself. As
Isabel says "
"I don't want to know what Isabel says," re-
marked Knight grimly. "The whole fact of the
matter is, she has got too much time on her hands.
Why doesn't she work, if she's so fond of it? Or
why doesn't she meet some tame, undiscriminating
male and marry him? I'm sure that either Carstairs
or Tollhurst "
"She hates Captain Tollhurst," interrupted Miss
Seacombe. "He simply haunts her, and when she
is rude to him he seems to regard it as a delicate
little attention on her part. He is so pleased with
himself that nothing upsets him; he only smiles. It
must be very nice to be like that."
"His devotion has not passed unnoticed," said
Knight dryly. "It has afforded me a great deal of
innocent pleasure. In the hope that Lady Penrose
will imitate my delicacy I always avoid intruding
upon them when possible. I am sure she has no-
ticed it."
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The Castaways
"It's the sort of thing you would do," said the
girl restlessly, "and then you wonder why Isabel
objects to you."
Mr. Knight started, and admitting, after due
consideration, that perhaps his behaviour could be
improved, set himself to the task with such char-
acteristic energy that his friends were somewhat
perturbed in consequence. One or two of them
attributed the change to failing health, others (the
majority) suspected mischief, Pope on two occasions
getting up from the meal-table to make sure that his
cabin door was locked.
A series of violent squalls and rainstorms helped
to relieve the monotony of life at sea, and a fresh
interest was imparted by the knowledge that Cap-
tain Vobster was understood to be making for an
uninhabited island.
"Uninhabited when last visited," he said guard-
edly.
. Visions of a picnic on a scale hitherto undreamt
of took possession of all on board. The sailmaker
was set to work to make a couple of tents; and the
form of picnic to be enjoyed became the subject
of a somewhat heated debate. The company was
almost equally divided into "Thermos Flasks" and
"Robinson Crusoes," the former voting for comfort
and the latter consisting chiefly of the younger
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The Castaways
members preferring to gather their sustenance at
first hand from the land and the sea and sleep in
houses of their own erecting. In the final division
it had to be pointed out to Mr. Peplow, torn between
love and self-interest, that he could not vote on both
sides.
"It really ought to be a delightful experience,"
said Lady Penrose, as she sat one morning discussing
the subject with Carstairs. "There is something very
delightful in the idea of getting back to Nature."
Carstairs coughed. "With the resources of civil-
isation at hand, yes," he replied. "Anyway, I ex-
pect we shall all be glad of a run ashore. I'm afraid
you find things a little bit dull sometimes on board
ship."
His companion shook her head. "No," she said
slowly; "but a little more excitement perhaps would
not come amiss. Nothing seems to happen at sea;
no post, no newspapers, no scandal."
"H'm 1 We might have managed that," said Car-
stairs, in tones of self-reproach. "I'll speak to Pope
about it. I believe the whole fact of the matter is
you are still suffering from a most unfeminine thirst
for adventure. Suppose we go up to the Solomons;
the skipper has got some gruesome stones about
tEem."
"Adventure without risk," said Lady Penrose
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The Castaways
firmly. "I have got no use for the other kind. The
sea-stories I used to read in my youth were full of
incident; in real life nothing seems to happen. As
a matter of fact, I don't really want an adventure
for myself; I want one for Captain Tollhurst."
"Altruist," murmured Carstairs.
"Anything but that," said Lady Penrose; "but if
I have to listen to any more of his deeds of derring-
do I shall address the crew, storm the saloon, and
put him in irons."
"Mutiny!" said Carstairs, with a smile.
"Call it what you like," was the reply, "but it
does seem hard that with a hero like that on board
!here should be no opportunity for a display of his
powers. It isn't fair to him, you know."
Carstairs smiled again, and Lady Penrose, with
a side glance at him, clasped her hands and sat think-
ing. She took another glance at him and their eyes
met. Hers were soft and seemed unusually large.
He observed them with interest.
"I was going to ask a favour of you," she said,
at last, with a little laugh, "but you have been so
kind that I won't. It's presuming on good-nature."
"Please," said Carstairs earnestly.
His companion shook her head with an imitation
of determination that he mistook for the real thing.
He became insistent.
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The Castaways
"You wouldn't agree," she said, at last, after
many arguments.
"Anything that is possible," said Carstairs with
emphasis.
"It is such a great favour," she murmured, "and
I ought not to ask it."
"The bigger the better," said Carstairs stoutly.
"Now, what is it?"
Lady Penrose hesitated and looked away. "Bet-
ter leave it alone," she said, turning to him again,
with a smile. "Why do you tempt me?"
"What is it?" he repeated.
"Do you pass your word to grant it?" she in-
quired.
"Certainly, provided it is nothing impossible,"
said Carstairs.
"Oh, how good you are!" she said, with a dis-
turbing smile. "Mind, you have passed your word !"
Carstairs, vaguely uneasy, nodded. "I am quite
sure that Lady Penrose would ask nothing that
that " he began.
Lady Penrose laughed. "Oh, ho, wouldn't she ?"
she retorted. "That's why she got your promise
first. You know, if there's one thing I feel certain
of about you it is that you would never in any cir-
cumstances break your word. I am sure that you
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The Castaways
would go to the stake first. However unpleas-
ant
"Suppose we stop this unwholesome flattery and
get to business," interrupted the paragon.
Lady Penrose nodded. "Very well," she said
briskly. "I want the head of Captain Tollhurst on
a charger."
"Oh!" said Carstairs, relieved. "Oh, is that all?
What a fuss to make about a little thing like that!
Fhave no doubt Tollhurst will be delighted."
"His feelings don't matter. Now, you have
passed your word, you know; there is no escape
for you. I want a mutiny."
"What, as well as Tollhurst's head?" inquired
her astonished host.
"Same thing," said Lady Penrose. "Captain
Tollhurst will lose his head when it happens and
the thing is done. He will never hold it up again."
Carstairs became grave. "You are not serious,"
he protested.
"Never more so in my life," said Lady Penrose
cheerfully.
"I know better," said Carstairs stoutly. "You
are far too kind and good-natured and thoughtful
for others, and "
"Suppose we stop this unwholesome flattery and
get to business," quoted the other, smiling.
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The Castaways
"And you mustn't forget that Tollhurst is my
guest," concluded Carstairs gravely.
"And you mustn't forget that you promised me,"
said Lady Penrose. "Oh, I can see myself clinging
to his arm and begging him to save me. Like this,
you know!"
She clung lightly to Carstairs' arm and gazed at
him appealingly.
"Well, he would if you looked at him like that,"
he said, with a laugh, as she released his arm. "He
couldn't help himself. And suppose he takes the
thing seriously and kills somebody? Besides, think
how frightened the ladies would be. It is impos-
sible."
"I will arrange for the ladies," said Lady Penrose
dryly.
"It isn't fair to Tollhurst," said Carstairs, shaking
his head obstinately. "It can't be done."
"Why not? It gives him the opportunity of his
life. Think what a magnificent chance it gives him
of displaying his courage. You don't doubt his
valour, do you?"
"Your duplicity," said Carstairs mournfully, "is
shocking."
"And I'm sure the sailors would enjoy it. Poor
fellows; their lives are very grey, Mr. Carstairs,
very grey."
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"Nothing to what mine would be," said Carstairs.
"You won't hold me to my promise, Lady Penrose?"
"I certainly shall," she answered. "And here
comes Captain Vobster," she added, as the burly
figure of the skipper came down from the bridge.
"Oh, captain!"
"Ma'am," said the skipper, pausing and raising
his cap.
"Mr. Carstairs has got a little request to make.
He was waiting to speak to you about it."
"Yes, sir?" said Vobster, looking from one to
the other.
Carstairs shifted in his seat. "Lady Penrose finds
life at sea rather dull, captain," he said, after an
awkward pause, "and she was suggesting a little
excitement which I feel sure you would not care
to permit."
"Mr. Carstairs, that's not fair," said Lady Pen-
rose sharply.
Captain Vobster gazed at her with admiration.
"Anything that 7 can do to oblige Lady Penrose,
sir " he began.
Lady Penrose returned his glance of admiration
with interest. "Thank you, Captain Vobster," she
said warmly. "I felt sure of your support."
There was another long pause, broken at last by
Carstairs. "Lady Penrose was wondering whether
223
you could provide a little er er amusement," he
said desperately.
"Amusement!" repeated the skipper, and, tilting
his cap, scratched his head as an aid to thought.
"We want the crew to amuse us, captain," ex-
plained Lady Penrose.
The skipper's face cleared and his cap settled
back into its place. "Crew," he said meditatively.
"Lemme see. There's one of 'em plays the con-
certina, I know, because I've stopped him at it half
a dozen times. And there's one of 'em can walk
on his hands surprisingly well. Mr. Pope met him
doing it night before last, and it gave him quite a
shock."
Carstairs sighed. "Ah, I'm afraid Lady Penrose
wouldn't be satisfied with simple, healthy amuse-
ments of that kind ; she wants something more elab-
orate. This conversation is quite private, captain?"
"Certainly, sir," said that mystified mariner.
"Well, she er wants you to to arrange a
mutiny."
"As soon as possible," added the smiling Lady
Penrose, "before it leaks out. To-morrow would
do."
"A mutiny !" ejaculated the startled Vobster. "A
mutiny! What, aboard of my ship?"
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The Castaways
"Only an imitation one, you know," said Carstairs.
"Just pretending."
"A little play, really," explained Lady Penrose
hastily. "Like a charade, you know, or Dumbo
Crambo. The crew seizing the passengers only
the men, of course and holding the officers down."
"Hold " repeated the skipper, in a strangu-
lated voice. "Hold holding the I think I see 'em
doing it. I think I see 'em I I "
His face turned a deep purple and the veins in
his neck swelled. Past speech, he took a turn up
and down, gobbling helplessly. Lady Penrose sat
regarding him with gentle interest.
"It is only fun, Captain Vobster," she said softly;
"and the men would enjoy it so. They don't have
much amusement, poor things. Their lives are very
grey."
The skipper pulled up short and stood eying her.
"And they'd be black and blue, too, before I'd done
with them, if they laid hands on me," he growled.
"Then you refuse to give your consent, captain?"
said Carstairs, with great cheerfulness.
"With all respect to you, sir, most certainly,"
said Vobster, still breathing hard. "I've been asked
to do a great many things in my life, but I've never
been asked before to let a pack of idle, good-for-
nothing fo'c'sle sweepings hold me down. Never!"
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The Castaways
"I'm so sorry," said Carstairs, turning to Lady
Penrose, with an air of gentle regret, "but you see
how it is, don't you? I was afraid all along that
Captain Vobster wouldn't. You see, there is such
a strong idea of discipline rooted in "
"Yes, I know," said Lady Penrose impatiently,
"but it's a great disappointment to me. Please leave
me to myself for a minute or two ; I want to think."
"I'm awfully sorry," said Carstairs, rising.
"Come along, captain."
"I want him," said Lady Penrose calmly, as the
relieved skipper turned to obey.
Carstairs started, and meeting the skipper's eye
gave him a glance full of warning; Vobster, in re-
turn, favoured him with something as near a wink
as his sense of discipline would allow.
"Come and sit here," said Lady Penrose, with a
gracious smile, as Carstairs walked off. "I want to
talk to you."
Captain Vobster looked around helplessly, and,
accepting the inevitable, planted himself in the chair.
A graven image would have looked more amenable
to reason. Bolt upright, with his clenched fists on
his knees, he sat ready to refuse all overtures.
"Have you ever set your heart upon having any-
thing?" she inquired, in a small, timid voice.
"Very often," was the reply.
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The Castaways
"Ah, you can sympathise with me, then," re-
marked Lady Penrose gently.
"And, generally speaking," said Captain Vobster,
nodding to himself with great satisfaction, "it turned
out fortunate for me that I didn't get it."
"How nice!" she murmured, with a vindictive
glance. "But when you were engaged, Captain Vob-
ster, and your fiancee asked you for anything "
"She didn't," interrupted the skipper freshly.
"No?"
"No; she waited until we were married. Then,"
continued Captain Vobster, his face darkening, "she
made up for it."
"It comes to the same thing," said Lady Penrose
hopefully.
"Yes she didn't get it," said Vobster, with a
chuckle.
Lady Penrose laughed, and the skipper, relaxing,
took up a more comfortable position.
"It is no good for anybody to try and get the
better of you, Captain Vobster," she said, in ad-
miring accents. "You have too much strength of
mind. Do you know that in manner and appearance
you remind me very much of Lord Merton?"
The astonished Vobster put his cap straight. "In-
deed!" he murmured.
"The likeness is extraordinary; even your voices
227
The Castaways
are alike. When we get back I must introduce
you ; then you can see for yourself. You will come
and see me, won't you?"
"I shall be delighted," was the reply.
"And then I shall be able to ask Mrs. Vobster
about those things she didn't get."
The skipper shifted a little in his seat. "Oh,
she'd be sure to tell you she got 'em," he said un-
easily. "You see she she has got a sort of idea
rooted in her head that she gets her own way.
'Course, I need hardly say "
"Of course," agreed his listener, "anybody could
see that."
"It pleases her, and it don't hurt me, if you
understand."
"Perfectly," said Lady Penrose. "Now, Captain
Vobster, as a special favour to me won't you oblige
by helping us in our little play? It is only just
private theatricals, and we can't do it without your
consent. On board ship the captain is, of course,
master. His word is law."
The unhappy skipper looked about him helplessly.
"I never heard of such a thing before," he said
awkwardly. "Never."
"Neither have I," said the temptress frankly;
"and, of course, with most captains I shouldn't have
dreamt of such a thing. With an ordinary captain,
228
The Castaways
destitute of any sense of humour, it would be im-
possible. Really to tell you a secret it was ob-
serving the command you have over your men that
made me think of it first, I believe. That and your
likeness to Lord Merton. He would have jumped
at it. Shall we walk?"
She rose, and, placing her hand on the skipper's
arm, paced slowly up and down. Her face ex-
pressed gentle resignation.
"You see, it's the sailormen," said the perturbed
Vobster, after half a dozen turns.
Lady Penrose nodded. "Of course; but I know
you well enough to know that you would have them
thoroughly in hand all the time."
"And it would look so bad for me," continued
the skipper. "What should I be supposed to be
doing while those lazy rascals of mine were mutiny-
ing?"
"That would be all right," she said softly. "I
thought of you first."
Vobster smiled. "Thank you," he said grate-
fully, "but I don't see "
"Six of the biggest and most powerful men in
the ship must seize you suddenly from behind and
gag and bind you."
"Bind!" spluttered the skipper, dropping her
229
The Castaways
arm and springing back. "Bind! Gag! Bind and
gag me? What, sailormen? ME!"
"And Mr. Carstairs and Sir Edward Talwyn
and the others," said Lady Penrose, in a coaxing
voice. "You won't be alone. Sir Edward is one
of the oldest baronets in the kingdom, and he'll
enjoy it. I am sure of it. Now, Captain Vobster,
you will, won't you?"
She took his arm again without any assistance
from him and gazed at him in mute appeal. He
cleared his throat.
"I don't like to be a spoil-sport," he began firmly,
"but when "
"And you won't," she interrupted, with convic-
tion. "I am sure you won't. After all, it's only
acting. Why, I've seen a prince play the part of
a servant-girl, in a dirty cap and apron with his
nose smutted. Now, I'm not suggesting anything
so undignified for you."
"Not gagging?" demanded the skipper thickly.
"Nothing like so bad. Of course, the men will
only pretend to bind you," said Lady Penrose, look-
ing up as Pope and Carstairs came towards them.
"Oh, Mr. Carstairs, Captain Vobster, in the noblest
fashion, has consented."
"En?" said Carstairs and Vobster, in tones of
blank amazement.
230
The Castaways
"He is a born actor," continued Lady Penrose.
"He saw all sorts of possibilities in the part. He
is going to be bound and gagged. Pretend to be,
I mean."
"I I " began the indignant skipper. "I
I'm afraid "
"Now, Captain Vobster," said Lady Penrose,
with conviction. "I am quite sure that nothing
could make you afraid."
"Bound and gagged?" repeated Pope, open-eyed.
"Why, what's he done?"
"H'shf Nothing," said Lady Penrose, with a
radiant smile at the fermenting Vobster. "Nothing,
except to refuse to say 'No' to a lady?"
"Well, nobody expected him to do that," said
the mystified Pope.
Captain Vobster looked about him with the help-
less gaze of a trapped animal. "Very well," he
said thickly. "Very well; but I must have instruc-
tions from you before witnesses, sir. I won't do
it without. And I'll have 'em in writing."
"Better do it now," said the triumphant Lady
Penrose before Carstairs could speak. "Come
along, Mr. Pope. Now, Mr. Carstairs."
She walked towards the drawing-room, the two
gentlemen following, leaving Captain Vobster a
prey to gloom alone on the deck. A harmless sea-
231
The Castaways
man passing to his work found himself brought
up by a gaze of cold and concentrated venom. He
faltered, and stood still.
"WELL?" inquired the skipper, in a hurricane
voice.
"Yessir," said the man, and, backing slowly,
turned and fled.
"Gagged!" said Vobster, to the mainmast in a
broken voice. "By sailormen!"
2.32
CHAPTER XVIII
MR. POPE, with his hands clasped behind
his back and his head bowed in thought,
paced slowly up and down the deck. His
face was grave and the lines on his brow suggested
worry. Knight, coming out from the smoke-room,
eyed him with concern.
"Halloa!" he cried, "what's the matter? Seen
a blackbeetle?"
Pope gave him a baleful glance over the top of
his glasses. "Run away and play," he said shortly.
"Right-o," said the other, crouching. "I'll hop
you twice round the ship for tuppence."
"And try and be serious for once," said the older
man, reddening. "I've got things to think about."
"What things?"
"Cabinet secrets," said Pope loftily.
"What are they? Now, it's no use looking at
me in that fashion; you ought to know that by this
time."
"Well, I can't tell you," grunted the other, look-
ing around carefully. "Better go away; if Lady
2.13
The Castaways
Penrose sees us she may think I am talking about
things I oughtn't to."
Knight nodded. "You go to your cabin," he
said, in the low tones of a conspirator, "and I'll
come in for a cigar."
Pope shook his head, but without decision, and
after a turn or two disappeared. Knight gave him
a couple of minutes' grace, and then entered his
cabin.
"Halloa! Who'd have thought of seeing you
here?" he exclaimed.
"Do be serious," said Pope testily. "I've a good
mind to tell you, because I'm afraid things might
get out of hand if I don't. They're shoving all
the responsibility on to me."
"They generally do," murmured the other, eying
him carefully. "I don't know what Carstairs would
do without you."
"If things go wrong," said Pope, biting the end
off a cigar and placing it in his mouth while he
fumbled in his pocket for matches, "they'll blame
me. Everybody will; Lady Penrose said so. Car-
stairs has given me full powers; he has left all the
details to me."
Knight made a sympathetic noise and waited.
To pass the time he took a cigar, and let it out
234
The Castaways
two minutes later in his interest at Pope's revela-
tions.
"And I'm only telling you," concluded the latter,
"because I thought that if you took it seriously
things might go a bit too far. It would be a serious
thing if you broke anybody's head."
"It would," said Knight grimly; "and more
serious still if they broke mine. I'm going to tell
Maloney; his temper is not exactly lamb-like. And
what about the ladies ? They'll be scared to death."
"I am to prepare them," replied Pope. "I've
got to do everything, it seems to me. Lady Pen-
rose doesn't want to appear in it, and Carstairs
says he washes his hands of it. I've had no end
of difficulty in trying to explain to the bo'sun what
he has got to do. He is to be the ringleader."
"They couldn't have left it in more capable
hands," said Knight warmly. "They have avoided
disaster by relying on your common sense. And
Vobster has got written instructions?"
Pope nodded, and Knight, relighting his cigar,
paused to pay a few more well-turned compliments,
and withdrew. In the solitude of his own cabin
he sat for some time considering ways and means
of turning the information he had received to his
own advantage. He had an idea that it would be
an odd thing if he could not fish to some purpose
235
The Castaways
in such troubled waters as a mutiny, and Maloney,
whose cabin he invaded after dinner, felt disposed
to agree with him. In low tones they discussed the
situation.
"It's a bit hard on Tollhurst," said Knight slowly.
"We might give him the tip," suggested the
doctor.
Knight shook his head. "I've got a better plan,"
he said, "if I could only get it carried out."
He bent to the doctor's ear, and whispered.
"Eh?" said the other, starting back. "Nonsense.
It's impossible!"
"We'll see," said Knight. "With your assist-
ance and "
"You can count me out," interrupted the doctor
coldly. "I'm not very particular, but Carstairs
happens, for the time being, to be my employer."
"It would be doing him a good turn," said Knight
eagerly.
"Also, there is a lady in the case," continued
the other.
"Of course there is," retorted Knight. "I've
just been telling you. It's her scheme, and there's
no reason why she should object to having it touched
up a little bit here and there. That's all I propose
to do."
The doctor laughed and stretched himself.
236
The Castaways
"How are you going to manage it?" he inquired.
"I'm going to enlist the services of Biggs. I've
left word for him to come round to my cabin at
ten to-night. You can come, too, if you like. I'm
disappointed in you I thought you'd have
jumped at the idea. Anyway, I know you'll keep
quiet. Pity you haven't got more spirit."
Maloney shifted. "That'll do," he said curtly.
"And I don't think Biggs'll be much use to you."
Knight nodded. "He'll be all right," he said
confidently. "He's very popular with the crew
owing to his democratic notions. Moreover, he
is at the present moment suffering badly from un-
requited affection. Mudge has bestowed her hand
and heart upon Markham, and I fancy that Biggs
is in the mood at present for any mischief that
turns up. He is in a reckless mood."
The doctor rose. "There'll be a little surgical
work for me, if you are not careful," he remarked.
"Mind, I'm not going to assist; I shall content my-
self with holding a watching brief."
"I knew you were all right," said Knight, with a
grin. "Come along at ten to-night and see me
handle Biggs."
As a matter of fact, very little handling was re-
quired. Mr. Biggs evinced no surprise at the
recital, and, so far from objecting to Knight's im-
237
The Castaways
provements, came forward with some really good
suggestions.
"That'll be all right, sir," he said, delicately
puffing at a cigar Knight had given him. "The
bo'sun has already told the crew what is to be
done, and it'll be quite easy to make a few altera-
tions. I was one of the first he told, him wanting
my assistance, I've been teaching 'em how to howl
this afternoon, down in the fo'c'sle. Surprising how
slow they are at learning. They seemed to think
they were a Sunday-school choir at first."
"Excellent," said Knight. "But you'll have to
be careful with the bo'sun. Give him to under-
stand that the new instructions are from Mr. Pope
and the skipper and they preferred him to get them
in a roundabout way. Tell him that it's Carstairs'
wish, but nobody wants to appear responsible for
it."
"Ay, ay, sir!" said Biggs, with a confident nod.
"Tarn won't give any trouble. He's a stiff chap,
but he's got the brain of a five-year-old. He'll be-
lieve anything 7 tell him. And if I could tell the
hands that there was a fiver for them if things go
off properly "
"Of course," said Knight. "And, by the way,
you had better not be one of the mutineers."
"Course not, sir," replied Biggs, in an injured
238
The Castaways
yoke. "I'm one of the afterguard. I've already
arranged with the chap that's to knock me out.
Showed him just where to pretend to hit me. And
told him to remember that it is pretending, too."
He helped himself to a whiskey and soda by
request and went off.
"I thought he would be all right," said Knight,
turning to the silent doctor. "He didn't like Lady
Penrose interfering. She gave good advice to
Mudge about Markham, so Mrs. Ginnell tells me.
Biggs and Tarn are as thick as thieves now, and
this business'll be a labour of love to 'em."
"I'll get a few dressings ready," said Maloney.
"When is this affair supposed to start?"
"When we get to the island. Vobster expects
to make it to-morrow. He prefers it to happen
with the ship laid to. Pope says he is like a par-
ticularly nasty bear with a particularly nasty sore
head. Can't get anything out of him except grunts."
The atoll, represented by the tops of a little
cluster of coco-nut palms, came into sight an hour
after lunch next day. Other scattered palms be-
came visible as the Starlight drew near, and a little
later the long, narrow strip of land with the surf
thundering on the beach drew most of the company
into the bows. They drifted back in ones and twos
to the greater comfort to be found aft as the ship,
239
The Castaways
steaming along the weather side, came into view
of the lagoon.
"How lovely!" said Miss Flack to Mrs. Ginnell,
as the skipper shouted orders and the noise of the
screw suddenly ceased. "I suppose this little play
the crew have got up for us will be ready soon?"
"I hope so," said Mrs. Ginnell. "I am longing
to get ashore."
"So interesting to see the dear sailors trying to
act," murmured Miss Flack. "I thought Mr. Car-
stairs was looking rather worried this morning;
perhaps it will cheer him up. But why weren't we
allowed to tell the men?"
Mrs. Ginnell shook her head. "Don't know,
I'm sure," she replied, with a puzzled air. "Mr.
Pope said it was part of the play."
The voice of Captain Vobster was heard again
from the bridge in a series of angry barks.
"The captain seems rather cross about some-
thing," said Lady Penrose, turning to Carstairs,
with a smile. "I am feeling so excited."
"I am ashamed of myself," said Carstairs
gravely. "It's a sorry trick for a man to play on
a guest."
"Guest?" said Lady Penrose. "I don't under-
stand you."
"Tollhurst," said Carstairs, raising his eyebrows.
2/J.O
The Castaways
Lady Penrose laughed. "Why should you think
so particularly of Captain Tollhurst?" she inquired.
"It's the same for him as the others. Suppose
that Sir Edward or Mr. Knight or any of the
others behave badly?"
"By Jove!" said the other, aghast. "I never
thought of that. I may make several enemies in-
stead of one; I shall not have a friend left. You
will have to be very good to me."
"I will if your fears are justified," she said,
with a smile.
"Tiny little place," said Tollhurst, lounging up
and gazing at the island. "However, it'll be a
change after the ship."
"I hope it is uninhabited," said Lady Penrose.
"Plenty of us to look after you if it is not,"
returned Tollhurst, with a smile, "but Talwyn and
I have been inspecting it with our glasses, and I
don't think there is any doubt. Knight has been
examining it, too. He seemed quite anxious about
it. You're not looking very well, Carstairs ! Feel
all right?"
"Quite," replied Carstairs, who had been ner-
vously glancing along the deck. <r Ready for any-
thing," he added desperately as he met Lady Pen-
rose's gaze.
He looked idly at Mr. Biggs, who had come up
241
The Castaways
from the engine-room and was standing on the top
of the ladder drinking in big draughts of fresh air.
With a final gulp Biggs disappeared, and a minute
later a couple of firemen, grasping iron bars and
grinning sheepishly, came up the ladder and went
forward. A seaman passed.
"What's that chap doing with a pistol?" ex-
claimed Tollhurst, gazing after him.
Carstairs swallowed, and shook his head as a
low threatening murmur was heard forward. It
died away as Captain Vcbster began to speak, and
then broke out again in increased volume.
"What's the matter?" inquired Peplow, com-
ing up.
"Seems to be a little argument," replied Toll-
hurst. "Looks like trouble," he added as an ex-
traordinary storm of hoots and groans broke out.
"Get back to your work," bellowed Vobster.
"The first man that moves "
A couple of pistol-shots rang out, and his voice
was drowned in a prolonged and ferocious roar.
The ladies, partly amused and partly scared, clus-
tered round Carstairs.
"What on earth's happening?" shouted Knight.
"By Jove ! they've got the mate down. Well done,
Vobster! Well done!"
242
The Castaways
"He's down, too," said Effie Blake, clasping her
hands. "Oh!"
The burly form of the skipper disappeared in
the press. Lady Penrose gave a faint scream.
"Captain Tollhurst, save us !" she implored, as a
body of seamen, waving pistols and clubs, came
surging towards them. "Save us!" echoed the
Misses Blake and Seacombe.
"Extraordinary!" murmured Tollhurst.
He sprang forward, and with a heavy blow
knocked the leading man off his feet, and snatch-
ing a pistol from the hand of the next gave him
a smart rap over the head with it. The next mo-
ment he was down and lost to view in a squirming
mass of legs and arms. A seaman, extricating him-
self from the scrum, paid a profane but heartfelt
compliment to the captain's teeth.
The whole thing was so rapid that for a few
moments nobody moved. Then Peplow, moving
forward, fell headlong over the foot of the watch-
ful doctor. Biggs, dashing up from the engine-
room, received a blow on the head as per arrange-
ment and subsided; Talwyn was held back by
Knight.
"No use," said the latter, in a hurried whisper.
"Keept quiet and bide your time."
He caught his breath as Tarn, having finished
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The Castaways
with the skipper, came rushing aft. The boatswain
was transfigured. His eyes were blazing and his
face contorted. A faint scream from Miss Flack
paid tribute to his appearance.
"Now, my lads!" he bawled, "smartly with it.
Into the boat with him; we don't want no owners
aboard."
Before the astounded Carstairs could move he
was seized by willing hands and forced to the side.
"Here! What the devil are you doing?" he
gasped.
"Shove him in the boat and put him ashore,"
roared the boatswain. "Lively with it now. And
you can put this lady in to keep him company."
"Stop, you fools!" shouted Carstairs, struggling
violently, as a couple of hands seized Lady Pen-
rose and bore her after him.
"How dare you?" she demanded wrathfully as
they moved towards the boat. Her gaze fell on
Captain Vobster, who, with a dirty cloth over his
mouth and trussed like a fowl, was sitting with his
back against the smoke-room. "Captain Vobster!"
she cried. "Why don't you stop them? Stop them
at once !"
"In with them," cried Tarn, levelling a pistol
at the little knot of amazed passengers. "If any
man moves I'll shoot him."
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The Castaways
He stood until the couple were placed in the
boat, and then, placing the pistol in his pocket,
stepped forward and seizing Miss Mudge raised
her in his arms. Miss Mudge, buffeting his face
with one hand, seized a handful of hair with the
other.
"Easy, my dear," cried the boatswain, his eyes
watering. " 'Ere, not quite so much of it. Lor'
lumme, I wish I was coming with you !"
He relinquished her with relief. The boat was
lowered and pulled rapidly towards the shore.
Tarn, wiping his brow, stood considering.
"Take the others below while I make up my
mind what to do with them," he said at last.
He walked to the side and stood for some time
watching the receding boat. Then he turned, and
bending down with his hands on his knees gazed
respectfully at the protruding eyes and purple
cheeks of the trussed Vobster.
"I 'ope I done it as you wished, sir," he said,
with an uneasy wriggle. "No bloodshed, and every-
body 'appy and comfortable."
245
CHAPTER XIX
BREATHING hard after a struggle which
had ended in his landing on the island in
a very uncomfortable fashion, Carstairs,
with a face of blank amazement, stood watching
the receding boat as it pulled across the still waters
of the lagoon. He stood until it had passed the
reef, and, reduced by distance to a mere speck, drew
alongside the yacht. He turned to Lady Penrose
and Miss Mudge, who stood behind.
"I don't know " he began.
"Look!" exclaimed the girl breathlessly.
Carstairs looked seawards again, and, hardly
able to believe his eyes, stood motionless as the
ship, after picking up her boat, swung round and
steamed away from the island. In a dazed fashion
he turned and met the scornful gaze of Lady Pen-
rose.
"Did you " he began.
"I?" said Lady Penrose, with a gesture of im-
potent wrath. "I Oh, this is too much!"
She turned and walked away, waving an imperious
hand as he offered to follow. Somewhat crestfallen
246
The Castaways
he came back and stood gazing at Miss Mudge,
who, having made a comfortable place in the sand,
was sitting in it indulging in the luxury of a good
cry.
"There, there," he said uneasily, "don't cry."
"Ca-can't help it," said the girl, between her sobs.
"I'm frightened. Have we got to stay here all
night?"
Carstairs stooped and began to turn over a pile
of stores that had been put out of the boat with
them. "I don't know what the arrangements are
exactly," he said, at length, "but it looks like it.
Suppose you leave off crying and lend me a hand
with this tent."
He began to drag the canvas higher up the
beach, and Miss Mudge, after an aggressive sniff
or two, wiped her eyes and followed with the pole.
Twice the half-suffocated Carstairs had to extricate
himself from folds of billowing canvas, but the tent
was pitched at last and the stores moved into it.
The generous quantity of goods provided did not
lessen his uneasiness. There were things in tins,
things in bottles, a fair-sized cask of water, and
half a bag of ship's biscuit. A large axe and other
tools, a gun and a revolver, blankets, and crockery
of the enamelled order completed the tale of their
belongings.
247
The Castaways
"Well, we sha'n't starve," he said, looking
around.
"We sha'n't sleep," said Miss Mudge, eying the
blankets dolefully. "Not even a pillow. And what
are we to sit on?"
Carstairs, who was watching the distant figure
of Lady Penrose proceeding slowly along the beach,
made no reply. He turned and walked in the same
direction, and, pausing irresolutely after a few steps,
came back to the tent again.
He filled his pipe and sat for a long time smok-
ing. The ship had disappeared and there was noth-
ing in sight seawards but the still, blue waters of
the lagoon and the tumbling seas beyond the reef.
A glance sideways showed him Lady Penrose sitting
down a quarter of a mile away and also looking
out over the water. It was evident that she found
his company distasteful.
"Better make some tea," he said, rising and fetch-
ing a small spirit-stove from the tent. "You can
tell Lady Penrose that I have gone to explore the
island and shall not be back for some time."
He went off in the opposite direction, and, reach-
ing the end of the atoll, turned and proceeded along
the weather side. The wind there was fresh and
strong and the sea thundered at his feet in great
white breakers. With his binoculars he scanned the
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The Castaways
horizon in vain for any sign of the missing ship.
Puzzled and perturbed, he continued on his way
until, the desolation of the beach proving too much
for him, he made his way across to the lagoon
again.
Lady Penrose and Mudge went off together as
he approached the tent, but, all things considered,
he made a very substantial meal. He lit his pipe
again when it was finished, and then, feeling him-
self somewhat in the way, went off along the beach
and, making himself a comfortable seat in the white
coral sand, sat down to think things over.
He came back to find the tent closed for the night.
A blanket which had been thrown outside was evi-
dently intended for his use, and somewhat touched
by this sign of consideration for his welfare he
hollowed out a bed in the sand and tried to arrange
himself comfortably before the short twilight should
disappear.
He fell asleep after a long period of wakefulness
only to start up at dawn with a violent attack of
cramp. The inhabitants of the tent awoke two
seconds later, and the inflection of their whispers
testified to their annoyance. Three times in all did
Carstairs hurriedly forsake his couch and hop up
and down on a leg that was trying to tie itself
into knots; and three times did the murmuring of
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the people within add to his discomfort. He rose
at last just in time to forestall a fourth attack, and,
making his way along the beach, stripped and waded
into the lagoon.
Miss Mudge got up an hour later, and after a
cautious glance round went down to the water and
returned with a well-filled bucket.
"Has Mr. Carstairs gone?" inquired Lady Pen-
rose from the interior of the tent.
The answer being satisfactory, she came out, and
after a soapless wash in salt water sat down for
Mudge to attend to her hair.
At the sound of a not very distant cough she
sprang to her feet and, with her hair flying, dis-
appeared hastily inside the tent.
"I beg pardon," said Carstairs, as Mudge stood
regarding him with a hostile stare. "I'm sorry I
disturbed Lady Penrose, but I have just found this
little comb in my pocket. She may be glad of it."
"Mudge !" cried an imperious voice from the tent.
The girl stooped and put her head inside. "My
lady doesn't require a comb, sir," she said, return-
ing.
"Oh, all right. Sorry," said Carstairs, pitching
it in front of her.
"My lady doesn't require a comb, sir," repeated
Mudge, in severe accents.
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The Castaways
"Just so," said Carstairs mildly. "Just so; but
I suppose I can leave it in my er sleeping apart-
ment if I wish ? I shall not be back for some time."
He turned, and, keeping the fate of Lot's wife
well in mind, disappeared in the distance. Lady
Penrose, after watching from the tent, came out
and sat on the beach again.
"I do hope there'll be no savages, my lady,"
said Miss Mudge, gazing helplessly at her mistress's
hair. "Every time I woke up in the night I was
thinking of them."
"I prefer savages to some civilised people," said
Lady Penrose, glancing in the direction Carstairs
had taken.
"Yes, my lady," said the girl dutifully, "but I'd
like to see that Mr. Tarn again, that I would
I got some of his hair when he caught hold of
me."
Lady Penrose sighed, and then, as the girl pro-
ceeded to use her fingers as a comb, uftered a sharp
exclamation.
"You are not doing Mr. Tarn's hair," she said
sharply. "Oh! You are hurting me! Don't be
so clumsy!"
"I'm very sorry, my lady," murmured the of-
fender, "but your hair is so thick. And I've never
seen it in such a tangle before."
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The Castaways
"It's never had such a pillow before," was the
reply. "O-oh! Oh!"
"It's the sand in it, I think," said the girl, paus-
ing. "If we'd only got a comb "
"Yes, but we have not."
"No, we have not," said Miss Mudge, with a
longing glance at Carstairs' comb. She tightened
her lips and attacked her task once more.
"You are very clumsy," said the victim, wincing.
"Yes, my lady," said the girl, with a doleful sniff.
"It isn't my fault. I'll do hair with anybody, if
I've only got the things to do it with. And I'm
afraid your hair will be ruined for ever. It does
seem a shame."
Lady Penrose looked grave. "Has Mr. Car-
stairs gone for a walk?" she inquired.
"Yes, my lady."
"A long walk?"
"He said he shouldn't be back for some time,"
replied the girl.
There was a long silence, at the end of which
Lady Penrose gave a slight cough. Miss Mudge
started, and stepping backwards in an unobtrusive
fashion picked up the comb, and, still using the
fingers of her left hand, began to use the comb with
the right. After a few seconds she abandoned the
use of fingers altogether.
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The Castaways
"You see, you can do it all right if you like,"
said her mistress.
"Oh, my lor . Yes, my lady," said Miss
Mudge respectfully.
She finished her task at last, and, Lady Penrose
having retired to the tent to complete her toilet,
busied herself with preparations for breakfast.
"Make haste," said a voice from the tent. "I
am hungry."
"There's no matches," said the girl. "Mr. Car-
stairs must have gone off with them. Shall I go
and ask him for them?"
Lady Penrose hesitated. "No," she said at last,
"it doesn't matter. We can drink cold water."
Miss Mudge sighed, and with lagging footsteps
went to the barrel and filled a couple of mugs with
the refreshing beverage. A piece of stale bread
and some oil that had once been butter completed
the feast. And they had just finished, when the
offender came sauntering up and with a cheerful
smile asked for a cup of tea.
"Certainly," said Lady Penrose, as she got up
and moved towards the tent. "You are our host,
I believe. We have just finished."
Carstairs looked down at the remains of the feast.
"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "Haven't you
had any tea?"
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The Castaways
"No matches," muttered Miss Mudge,
"I'm very sorry," said Carstairs, going on his
knees and lighting the stove. "How thoughtless of
me. Fill the kettle, please."
The girl obeyed with alacrity.
"And fetch a tin of something and some biscuits."
He waved the girl away when the kettle boiled
and made the tea himself, and despite the fact that
the mug he sent in to Lady Penrose was returned
untasted, with a curt message to the effect that she
had had her breakfast, partook of a hearty meal.
Miss Mudge, without prejudice, accepted three mugs
of tea.
He sat smoking after the meal and reviewing in
all its bearings a situation which was becoming more
and more difficult. He knocked out his pipe and
raising his field-glasses looked long and earnestly at
the horizon. The blue surface of the sea was un-
broken, and there was no sound except the noise
of the surf on the outer beach. He turned, with
a grave face, as Lady Penrose emerged from the
tent.
"This is extraordinary," he exclaimed.
Lady Penrose, who was walking on, paused for
a moment. "I am glad you think so," she said
over her shoulder.
"Incomprehensible," murmured Carstairs. "How-
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The Castaways
ever, I suppose we must make the best of it. I hope
you slept well?"
"Thank you; yes."
"I was afraid I might have disturbed you. I am
not used to sleeping in the open, and I got some-
what cramped. The dew was very heavy."
Lady Penrose said "Indeed!"
"And I must say," exclaimed Carstairs, with
sudden heat, "that the part is unworthy of your
powers."
"Part, sir ?" said Lady Penrose sharply. "Part ?"
Carstairs nodded. "Little Miss Muffitt," he ex-
plained; "and, frankly, I don't like being the spider.
The part doesn't suit me."
"Lit-tle Miss Muffitt!" repeated Lady Penrose,
breathless with indignation.
"That's how it appears to me," said Carstairs.
"Exactly like the old nursery rhyme. Directly I
come, you disappear. Won't you please tell me
why you are treating me like this?"
"Is there any need to ask?" she inquired.
"I think so," said Carstairs firmly. "I behave
very well indeed; remarkably well, I might say, to
keep my word to you, and this is all the thanks I
get."
Lady Penrose stood eying him in perplexity.
"When I made that foolish suggestion I was not
255
The Castaways
prepared for your improvements," she said at last.
"Improvements," said the other. "Mine? Good
heavens 1 You don't think that / arranged this, do
you?" .
'*! imagine that the captain looked to you for
orders, Mr. Carstairs."
"Orders!" repeated Carstairs. "Orders! I I
told him to do just what you suggested, and not
a word more. Not a word. I thought that the
whole thing would last about a couple of minutes,
and I thought I hoped that it would deceive no-
body. Why should I do such a thing? Give me
a reason."
Lady Penrose gave a slight toss of the head.
"I am not here to be catechised," she remarked
coldly.
"But it's so unfair," protested Carstairs. "What
reason could there possibly be for my behaving in
such an outrageous fashion? You don't think I
wanted to carry off Mudge, do you? Or or
By Jove!"
He stopped suddenly and gasped. Lady Penrose
looted out to sea.
"Can't you see what an awkward position you
have placed me in?" she said at last.
"Not me," said Carstairs earnestly. "I assure
you that I know nothing whatever about it. I
2C6
The Castaways
shouldn't dare do such a thing. My respect and
and admiration hopeless admiration for you are
far too great."
"Mr. Carstairs!" said Lady Penrose reddening.
"It's true," he said stoutly.
"I hope that the others will think so," retorted
Lady Penrose, clasping her hands. "Think of Mrs.
Jardine !"
"And Miss Flack, and the girls," said Carstairs
helpfully. "Yes. Still, what does it matter? And
I will be quite frank with you. I am enjoying this."
"Enjoying it?" she gasped. "What is there to
enjoy?"
"Sense of adventure," replied Carstairs. "And
look at the cool, bright green of those palms and
the colour of the water. It's marvellous. But,
above all and beyond all, I am enjoying the society."
Lady Penrose made a very creditable attempt
to look bewildered.
"Mind," continued the other, "I am quite inno-
cent in this affair; I had no more idea of being
bundled into a boat like a truss of hay and landed
here than you had, but the society of Lady Penrose
compensates for everything."
"Mr. Carstairs!"
"It's true, and I had to say it. I've been want-
ing to say it for a long time."
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The Castaways
"There's no need to say it to Mudge," retorted
Lady Penrose, glancing at the tent.
"Sorry," said Carstairs, moving nearer to her,
"but we are so far apart."
Lady Penrose drew back a little perhaps a
couple of feet. "But who is responsible for this?"
she demanded. "Have the crew really mutinied?"
Carstairs shook his head. "I know no more than
you do," he replied. "You heard all that passed
so far as I'm concerned. Pope gave instructions
as to details."
"Mr. Pope would never dream " began Lady
Penrose.
"No, no," said Carstairs. "It was real enough
so far as I could see. And I must say that Toll-
hurst behaved splendidly. His behaviour was ex-
cellent. I was very pleased. He quite justified my
opinion of him."
"I wonder whether he knew," murmured Lady
Penrose.
"Nobody knew except ourselves and Pope,"
replied Carstairs, "and the ladies were only in-
formed just before it happened. This comes of
playing with edged tools."
"All my fault," said Lady Penrose, shaking her
head. "I wonder you care to speak to me."
Carstairs laughed. "I would sooner talk to you
258
The Castaways
than do anything else in the world," he replied.
"I am enjoying this amazingly. And you are not
angry with me for for telling you how much I
admire you ?"
Lady Penrose bit her lip. "Mr. Carstairs," she
said entreatingly, "if you only knew what ears
Mudge has got!"
"I understand," said Carstairs, as he moved
closer and led her along the beach. "Let's see
how far she can hear."
Their voices died away in the distance, and Miss
Mudge, watching them from the tent, thought sadly
of Mr. Markham, Mr. Biggs, a young man in the
general shop at Berstead, and three members of
the crew.
259
CHAPTER XX
MR. TARN, somewhat overcome at the
success of his leadership, stood in the
saloon surveying his helpless victims.
The truculence had faded from his face, and given
way to an expression of acute uneasiness. He had
got to the end of his tether, and was now looking
anxiously round in search of a prompter.
"We don't want any more violence," said Knight,
with a warning glance at him. "These ladies had
better go to the drawing-room."
"As you please, sir," said the desperado mildly.
"And don't play with us," proceeded Knight,
winking at him. "It's bad enough to be in your
power without being played with like a cat with
a mouse. We don't want any of your infernal
sarcasm."
"My wot?" said the amazed boatswain, as the
ladies departed under escort.
"I'm surprised at you, Tarn," said Pope, in a
deep voice. "It'll be penal servitude for you for
this."
"Or hanging," said Talwyn grimly.
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The Castaways
The unfortunate boatswain looked round implor-
ingly.
"It's no good using hard words," said Knight,
turning on Pope. "We've got to make the best
of things."
"And keep this pirate in a good humour," added
the doctor, in a low voice. "Just get Talwyn and
Peplow away while I reason with him. I think I
understand his mentality. There's no objection to
these gentlemen going on deck, I suppose ?" he said,
turning to Mr. Tarn.
"O' course not," said that gentleman effusively.
"So long as they behave theirselves," he added
ferociously as Knight glanced at him.
He stood tugging at his moustache and rolling
his eyes as Pope, in a stately fashion, departed with
his friends. Then his face relaxed and he gazed
piteously at Knight.
"Wot about the skipper, sir?" he inquired desper-
ately.
"What about him?" inquired Knight easily.
"He's fast enough, isn't he?"
"He's fast enough, sir," conceded the boatswain,
"and Brown is standing on guard over him with
the cook's chopper. But wot's to be done now?"
Knight shook his head. "You are in charge,"
he said slowly. "I know all about it. You have
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had your instructions from Mr. Pope and the
skipper, haven't you?"
"In a roundabout way, yes," replied Mr. Tarn;
"but you heard wot Mr. Pope said about penal
servitood just now."
"Only his fun; he has got to keep up appear-
ances," said Knight.
"And I don't like the way the skipper looks at
me," pursued Mr. Tarn, in an aggrieved voice.
"Keeping up appearances," said Knight again.
"What are you worrying about? He told you to
pretend to head a mutiny, didn't he?"
Mr. Tarn nodded. "And he told the officers not
to interfere," he said, seeking to comfort himself.
"And then Mr. Pope told me ; and then Biggs come
along and told me to do things that Mr. Pope and
the skipper didn't want to tell me themselves. I tell
you, I'm fair muddled up with it all."
"You're on velvet," said Knight definitely.
"Well, I wish I was off of it," retorted the boat-
swain. "And wot I want to know is, wot's to be
done now? The first officer is shut up in his cabin
and laying on 'is back smoking; Captain Tollhurst
is shut up in his cabin calling out for his boots and
Ms firearms, wot we took away from 'im; and the
skipper looks as if he might 'ave a fit at any mo-
ment."
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The Castaways
"I should carry on if I were you," said Knight
thoughtfully. "Take us for a little cruise in the
neighbourhood, and return to the island to-morrow
and pick up Mr. Carstairs and the others. And
mind, whatever you do, don't take any notice of
anything Mr. Pope says, he has got to go on pre-
tending, you know. He is not supposed to know
anything about it. Let's go up and see whether
the boat is back yet."
He followed the boatswain on deck just as the
boat came alongside. Mr. Minns, the second officer,
with an odd grin on his good-tempered face, was
gazing in a speculative fashion at the skipper and
the uneasy-looking seaman who stood guard over
him with the chopper.
"Skipper plays his part well," said Knight in a
low voice.
Mr. Minns, after a quick glance at him, nodded.
"How many of you are in this?" he inquired. "And
what's the next thing? Do you scuttle the ship, or
burn it? It's all in the day's work. Don't mind
me."
Knight shook his head. "I'm not sure," he said
slowly. "I imagine the skipper has got his instruc-
tions. He doesn't look very comfortable; but I
suppose we had better leave him alone. If he were
released he would have to do something for the
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The Castaways
sake of appearances to get charge of his ship again."
"I'm not going to release him, if that's what you
are driving at," said Mr. Minns hastily. "He told
me I wasn't to interfere; and I obey orders. If
anybody had told me that the old man would let
himself be handled like this I wouldn't have be-
lieved him. Where's the pleasure in it? That's
what I want to know. Where's the pleasure?"
He went back to the bridge, stopping on the way
to receive instructions from a boatswain whose man-
ner was an unhappy compromise between truculence
and deference. The doctor came on deck as the
yacht got under way again, and, walking with Knight
past the skipper, took careful stock of that hapless
mariner.
"Vobster's got to be untied," he said, as soon
as they were out of earshot. "It's no position for
a man of his years and temper; he'll burst some-
thing if he has much more of it. Tell Tarn to
take that fool with the chopper away, and leave me
a clear deck."
He went below to his cabin and then to the
smoke-room and mixed a long whiskey and soda.
The ice in the tumbler tinkled pleasantly as he came
out on deck and in a stealthy fashion made his
way to the pinioned Vobster and sat down beside
him.
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The Castaways
"Easy does it," he said, in a low voice. "If I
undo your mouth, will you promise not to make
a noise?"
The skipper, with his eyes glued to the tumbler,
nodded vigorously, and Maloney, with a cautious
look around, took off the gag and held the tumbler
to his lips. Slowly the skipper's head tilted back-
wards until not a drop of the precious fluid re-
mained.
"Good?" inquired the doctor, placing the glass
on the deck.
"Splendid," murmured Vobster. "Cut these
things away. Quick! Cut these cut these cut
cut
"Bless my soul," said Maloney, with a grin as
Knight came up. "He's gone to sleep."
He took out his knife and cut the bonds, and,
the skipper being unable to do it for himself,
straightened out his legs for him, and lowered his
head to the deck. Then he signalled to Mr. Tarn,
who, in a state of some trepidation, was watching
the proceedings from afar off.
"Get two or three of the hands and have him
carried to bed," he said, as the boatswain came up.
"He's tired."
"Yessir," said Mr. Tarn doubtfully. "And sup-
pose he wakes up while they are a-carrying of 'im?"
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The Castaways
"He won't," said the doctor.
"But s'pose he does?" persisted the other.
The doctor rose to his feet and advanced on the
boatswain, who backed hastily.
"D'ye doubt my skill, you imitation pirate?" he
demanded wrathfully. "Take him below, and look
sharp about it."
He lent the procession his moral support by
accompanying it below and adjuring it in forcible
terms when it allowed the skipper's head to come
into violent contact with the side of his bunk. The
boatswain saw fit to regard the incident in a favour-
able light.
"Sleeping beautiful," he said, with an admiring
glance at the doctor. "I I wonder whether Cap-
tain Tollhurst is thirsty?"
The doctor, who was removing the skipper's
clothes preparatory to putting him to bed, looked
up, and under the awful witchery of his glance
Mr. Tarn, muttering broken apologies, backed out
of the cabin and made his escape.
By the time Maloney reached the deck again the
island had almost disappeared, the tops of one or
two palms being the only things in sight. In a
short time they also vanished.
"I suppose Minns will be able to find it again,"
he said, turning to Knight.
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The Castaways
"He'll have to," was the reply.
Maloney took his arm and paced him up and
down the deserted deck. The third officer, who
was in a state of sulky amazement, eyed them curi-
ously as he passed on his way to the bridge.
"And what do you expect to get out of all this?"
inquired the doctor at last.
Knight shrugged his shoulders. "They wanted
a mutiny," he said, "and I have given it to them.
Also I have paid off a little bit of my score to
Lady Penrose. She got up the mutiny to take a
rise out of Tollhurst, and instead of that she is
made the victim of her own cleverness. Think how
awkward it will be for her when she comes aboard
again. She has got to sail all the way home with
Tollhurst and the other people. She'll see the joke
in the face of every member of the crew, and I
think she will be much too quiet and subdued to
interfere with me much."
"Upon my word!" began the doctor, staring at
him.
"And the story will follow her home," continued
Knight, "with improvements, probably. She will be
credited with having tried to kidnap Carstairs."
"I ought to have stopped it," said Maloney, shak-
ing his head.
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The Castaways
"That's what will happen unless some good
angel intervenes," Knight went on.
"Are you the good angel?" inquired the other
crisply.
Knight nodded. "I might be, if it's made worth
my while," he replied. "I think I can handle the
situation all right. As a preliminary I have just
picked the skipper's pocket. Pope told me of a
little paper authorising the old man to permit the
mutiny, which I thought might come in useful.
Anyway, it's safer with me."
"We're a nice couple," said Maloney, with a
grin. "I hocus the man's drink and you go through
his trouser pockets. If other things fail we might
go into partnership."
"To-morrow morning," said Knight thought-
fully, "I propose to take possession of the ship and
go back and rescue the victims. If they are not
grateful as grateful as I think they ought to be
I shall have to talk to them plainly. And now let
us go and reassure the ladies."
They found the ladies in the drawing-room with
Pope, Talwyn, and Peplow vainly endeavouring to
explain a position that none of them understood.
A little exclamation of joy from Mrs. Ginnell
greeted their entrance.
"Now tell us all about it," she said, making room
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The Castaways
for Knight to sit beside her. "I'm sure you know.
Has something gone wrong? Mr. Pope is a per-
fect sphinx."
"Not my fault," grumbled Pope.
"But you knew something about it," said Mrs.
Jardine. "You told us not to be frightened, and
that the men were going to act a little play to us.
How did you know about it?"
"Play!" exclaimed Knight and the doctor together
in surprised accents.
"I can't explain," said Pope. "It is a secret. I
must see Vobster first."
"Vobster's asleep," said the doctor. "I'm treat-
ing him, and I won't have him d'sturbed. But what
do you mean by 'play'?"
"I can't tell you," said Pope, with a worried look.
"If Pope has passed his word," said Knight,
with a benignant glance at that gentleman, "you
may as well give it up. Wild horses wouldn't in-
duce him to break his word."
"And I am almost as much in the dark as you
are," said Pope earnestly.
"Almost!" repeated Mrs. Jardine, in a significant
voice. "Was it part of the play to leave Mr.
Carstairs and the others on a desert island?"
"And knock Captain Tollhurst down?" added
Miss Flack.
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The Castaways
"And frighten us all to death?" said Miss
Blake, with a laudable attempt to suit her expres-
sion to her words.
Mr. Pope smiled wanly, and, to the indignation
of the company, edged slowly towards the door
and disappeared. Mrs. Jardine and Miss Flack
exchanged glances.
"Most mysterious," said the former.
"Most," said Miss Flack, with a little shiver.
"We must make the best of it," said Knight,
with an air of pious resignation, as he left Mrs.
Ginnell and took a seat next to Miss Seacombe.
"Nobody is injured, and the crew seem to me to
be unusually civil in the circumstances."
"Civil!" said Talwyn, starting up. "Civil 1
There is an armed sentry over Tollhurst's door,
and when I went there just now he ordered me
off. When I demurred he asked me whether I
wanted one in the ha ha bread-basket!"
He looked round indignantly as Maloney, with
an odd, spluttering noise, made a dive for the door-
way and disappeared.
"How dreadful," said Mrs. Jardine, turning
sympathetically to Talwyn.
"It is," said Knight. "There are five ladies here,
and they all seem to understand the meaning of
the word. In my young days "
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The Castaways
"This is no time for flippancy," retorted Mrs.
Jardine, drawing herself up. "It is most serious.
I am sure I don't know what to think. Surely the
crew are not going to leave Lady Penrose and
Mr. Carstairs on that island to starve?"
"Or draw lots," said Mr. Peplow, in a sepulchral
voice.
Mrs. Jardine swung round in her chair and, put-
ting up her glasses, stared him back into the silence
from which he had emerged.
Dinner was a somewhat dreary function that
evening, but it was reassuring to find that, so far
as the ship was concerned, the usual routine was
maintained. The waiters went about their work
as though they had never heard of such a thing
as a mutiny; and Markham, somewhat paler of
face and tighter of lip than usual, presided with his
accustomed efficiency.
After the well-lighted saloon and the cheerful-
ness engendered by a comfortable meal the deck
seemed dark and sinister. Even Knight, pacing up
and down with Maloney, confessed to a slight feel-
ing of uneasiness as he peered into the darkness
and thought of the loneliness of the island beyond.
"We are not a great distance away," he said,
"and to-morrow we'll have them safe and sound
aboard again."
271
"Man proposes" said the doctor comfortably.
"Meantime I'll go and have a look at my patient.
I don't want him to get up too soon, and undo all
the good I've done him; it might lead to complica-
tions."
With the advent of a bright, clear morning
Knight's misgivings, never very profound, faded
away. The air was clean and exhilarating, and
in a cheerful mood he paced the deck waiting for
the sound of the breakfast bell. One by one most
of his fellow-voyagers appeared from below, and
after vain speculations as to the state of affairs
obeyed the summons of the bell and trooped down
to the saloon.
"We seem to be a small party," said Mrs. Jar-
dine, looking around. "Where's Sir Edward and
Mr. Peplow?"
Knight shook his head. "Overslept themselves,
perhaps," he said, stirring his coffee.
"We were rather late last night," said Pope,
"and perhaps they slept badly. I did."
It appeared that everybody had slept badly, ex-
cept those that hadn't slept at all, and Miss Flack
was just in the midst of a harrowing recital of
her experiences with insomnia when Mrs. Jardine,
with a sharp exclamation, held up her hand.
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"What's that noise?" she demanded quickly.
"It sounds like Captain Tollhurst."
There was no doubt of it. The captain's
voice, hard and commanding, sounded from above.
Hoarse shouts were heard in reply, and as Knight
swung his chair round preparatory to rising a couple
of seamen descended the stairway at a bound and,
after a wild look around the saloon, dived hastily
beneath the table. Mrs. Jardine rose with a faint
scream as Talwyn came running down with a rifle.
"Come out!" he shouted. "If you're not out
before I count ten I'll shoot."
On the stroke of five the two men came out on
all fours, and under orders from Talwyn preceded
him upstairs with their arms raised. The ladies,
who had risen and huddled together in one corner,
looked at each other aghast.
"All right," said Maloney, finishing his coffee;
"nothing to be alarmed about. Second act, I ex-
pect. You wait down here."
He bounded up the steps, followed by Knight
and Pope, and, gaining the deck, stood meditatively
scratching his nose. Tollhurst, with a pistol in his
hand, was shouting orders to the red-faced third
officer on the bridge ; Markham, armed with a rifle,
was standing over the fo'c'sle hatch; Peplow and
Talwyn, also armed, were pacing the deck. A
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The Castaways
wounded seaman with his hand clapped behind him
was leaning against the side, and a yard or two
away Albert, still clutching a small penknife, stood
regarding him in nervous triumph.
"That little wiper done it," said the sailor, as
the doctor went towards him. "Crept up behind
while I was walking along with my 'ands up."
"Take him below," said Tollhurst, in a sharp,
quick voice, as he came towards them. "It's all
right, doctor; I've retaken the ship."
274
CHAPTER XXI
"HFT was Markham who struck the first blow,"
said Tollhurst, as he received the nervous
^ congratulations of the ladies. "He sent the
sentry to sleep and then let me out. The rest
was quite easy I looked after that."
"Sent the sentry to sleep?" murmured Mrs.
Jardine.
"Hypnotised him," explained Miss Flack.
"With his fist," said Tollhurst, "it's quicker than
the open hand. Markham knows how to use his
hands a bit, and he was in a pretty bad temper,
too. He's coming out quite strong. Knight, you
had better get hold of something. I don't think
there will be any more trouble, but it is as well
to be ready."
"I'll borrow Albert's penknife," said Knight
scowling. "Or perhaps I can find something in
Mrs. Ginnell's work-basket."
"It's nothing to joke about," said Mrs. Jardine
severely. "We might all have been killed."
"Or landed on desert islands," said Miss Flack,
with a shiver. "Fancy last night all alone on that
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little rock, beset by surging seas, I couldn't sleep for
thinking of it, not a wink."
"It's all right now," said Tollhurst confidently.
"We'll soon have them on board again. The
bridge is under my orders, and we are on our
way back to the island."
There was a chorus of admiration as all eyes
turned on the strong man. Knight, gravely per-
turbed at this threatened blow to his plans, went
moodily outside. The spectacle of Pope doing
sentry-go on the deck with his rifle at the slope
helped to revive his drooping spirits.
"Halt!" he shouted gruffly. "Ordah-ums
staneasy stan-dat-ease You may smoke."
Pope eyed him scornfully.
"For heaven's sake leave him alone," cried
Maloney, appearing on deck. "He's got the darned
thing loaded and cocked. If it goes off on his shoul-
der it's only the funnel or a cloud that will suffer.
If he starts doing pat-a-cake things with it some of
us will be killed."
"Perhaps you're right," said the other. "But
I was only trying to do him a kindness. Surely
there's no need for him to look like a cross between
Captain Kidd and Julius Caesar."
"It won't hurt 'em they're both dead," said the
doctor impatiently. "Where's that boy Albert?
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The Castaways
I've put a bit of sticking-plaster on that fool in the
foc's'le, but he will have it that he's dying and he
wants to see Albert to forgive him before he goes."
He caught sight of the page and beckoned.
"But I don't want to go if he's dying, sir," said
the boy, with a scared expression. "I didn't mean
to kill him. I just did my duty, but I'd no
idea "
"He's not dying," said the doctor, "but he thinks
he is, and he says it'll ease his mind more than
anything to see you. Off you go."
"What about sending an armed escort with him?"
inquired Knight, with a glance at Pope.
"Better not," said the doctor, as the boy went
off with lagging steps, "the man's nerves are quite
bad enough as it is. Sudden joy might be fatal."
He nodded at the indignant Pope, and taking
Knight by the arm led him off.
"What are you going to do now?" he inquired,
as soon as they were out of earshot. "Seems to
me the man-eating Tollhurst has queered your pitch.
He has saved everybody, and is now on his way
to rescue the victims on the island. It's his show,
not yours. Still it will make it more awkward
than ever for Lady Penrose to owe her safety to
him."
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The Castaways
"He's a muddling, officious, interfering ass," said
the offended Knight.
"He's master of this ship," remarked Maloney
with a grin. "And he's basking in the sunshine of
the ladies' smiles. They all love a strong man.
Did you happen to observe the way Miss Seacombe
looked at him? What's that?"
"Sounds like a dog," said Knight, with a puzzled
air, as faint and distant yelps sounded from below.
The doctor stood listening. "It's Albert," he
said, with sudden conviction, as the noise, which
had now merged into a lusty bellowing, came nearer.
"What's wrong, I wonder?"
"Frightened, I suppose," replied Knight, as the
boy with one sleeve across his streaming eyes came
stumbling on deck.
Maloney laughed. "It's all right," he said, catch-
ing the boy by the arm. "There's nothing to be
scared about. He's no more dying than you are.
He's been playing on your feelings."
"Playing!" wailed Albert. "I I wish he he
had been playing. I wish he was dying. He
he he "
"Well?" said the doctor, after waiting a reason-
able time.
"He was laying in bed when I got down," con-
tinued the boy, "and he s-said it was very k-kind
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The Castaways
of me to come and see 'im and now he c-could die
peaceful. He said he forgave me for k-killing 'im
and said he'd like to give me something to r-remem-
ber him by, and asked me w-w-what I'd like "
"And what did you choose?" inquired the doctor
with commendable gravity.
"I said I'd have his watch and chain, sir," replied
Albert, breaking out into a torrent of angry sobs,
"and he he showed me a bit of rope with a
kno kno knot in the end of it, and said he
he'd give me that instead and he he did"
He moved off to pour his sorrows into the ear
of the indignant Markham; Maloney keeping pace
with Knight, resumed the interrupted conversation.
"Tollhurst will spoil everything," said the latter
gloomily. "Can't you get Vobster on his legs
.again?"
The doctor nodded. "I'm afraid of ructions be-
tween him and Tollhurst," he said slowly. "How-
ever, it's the only thing to be done, and he ought
to be waking by now. These guns will go off of
themselves if we are not careful."
He went off to his cabin and, after lingering
fondly over his drugs, proceeded to Vobster's. The
skipper was in bed, but his big red face rose up
from the pillow at the sound of the opening door,
and his eyes blinked owlishly at the visitor.
279
The Castaways
"How are we?" inquired the latter.
Vobster sat upright and, rubbing his eyes vigor-
ously, tried to collect his scattered faculties. In a
mechanical fashion he took the glass the doctor
offered, and drained it. After which he shuddered,
and, snatching at the top of the sheet, used it as
a napkin and tooth-brush combined.
"Now get up and have a wash," said the doctor,
turning on the water. "Give your head a good
sluicing. Out with you."
He helped the other out of bed, and, guiding his
heavy feet to the washstand, took up the sponge
and began to assist him. A liberal cascade down
the spine did more than anything to restore the
skipper's senses. It also restored the gift of speech.
Pearls floated through the porthole.
"You're better," said Maloney.
The skipper turned an infuriated face on him.
"What are you doing?" he spluttered. "What's it
all about? What are you doing in my cabin?"
"Think," said the other impressively.
The skipper spoke instead. He spoke at some
length, using much repetition, as the heathen do.
"Carry your mind back," said the impassive
doctor. "Who was it cut your bonds and carried
you off to bed? Who took the gag out of your
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The Castaways
mouth and put a nice strong whiskey and soda
there instead?"
Captain Vobster reeled and sat down suddenly
on the edge of his bunk. "Good Lord!" he said
thickly. "I'd forgotten."
He grabbed his trousers from the floor and put
them on hastily. "What's happened?" he jerked
out as he fastened the braces. "Wait till I get
my hands on that bo'sun. Where's Mr. Carstairs?"
"On the island," was the reply, "with Lady Pen-
rose and her maid."
The skipper collapsed again.
"That's what comes of playing w r ith edged tools,"
continued the doctor severely. "There might have
been murder done while you were sitting comfort-
ably on your beam-ends unable to prevent it."
"What d'ye mean?" demanded the skipper with
a faint attempt at bluster.
"We both know," replied the other calmly, "and
out of pure good nature I'm going to try and get
you out of a mess that the master of a ship ought
never to have got into."
Captain Vobster compressed his lips, and, putting
on his coat, buttoned it with painstaking care.
"Tarn is not to blame, mind," continued the
doctor, holding up a finger. "He thought the orders
came from you. Somebody took advantage of his
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The Castaways
innocence and carried the joke a little further, that's
aH."
"Who's been carrying on?" inquired the skipper,
with a groan.
"Second officer," replied Maloney. "At least, he
was until this morning, and then Captain Tollhurst
retook the ship and drove the men below. He is
in command now."
The skipper took a deep breath, so deep and
so heavy that the doctor turned instinctively and
soused the sponge again.
"Drop it!" yelled the skipper, recovering. "Com-
mand! I'll soon show him who is in command
aboard this ship."
"Go easy," counselled the doctor, catching him
by the arm as he seized the handle of the door.
"Remember that Tollhurst thinks this is all serious.
He got rather a mauling yesterday, and the last he
saw of you you were tied up hand and foot by
your own men. Take my advice : go up and take
command as though nothing had happened. Don't
attempt to disarm anybody, and don't discuss things.
Pretend that they are doing it for their own amuse-
ment, if you like. Laugh at them."
The skipper nodded. "I believe you're right,"
he said slowly, and, opening the door, made his
way above. Arrived on deck, he paused, and, after
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The Castaways
the immemorial custom of shipmasters, glanced aloft
before proceeding towards the bridge. Captain
Tollhurst, a picturesque figure in white flannels,
with a revolver thrust in his sash, stepped hastily
towards him.
"Glad to see you again, cap'n," he said signifi-
cantly.
"Thankee," returned the skipper, continuing his
leisurely progress.
Tollhurst eyed him in astonishment. "Rather
curious times," he remarked.
"Ay, ay," said the other. He glanced out of
the tail of his eye at Peplow, who came up carry-
ing a shot-gun at the trail, and smiled broadly.
Peplow glanced in pained amazement at Tollhurst.
"You seem amused," said the latter stiffly.
"Don't mind me," replied the skipper indulgently
as Miss Flack and Mrs. Jardine came out of the
drawing-room and took up a position behind Toll-
hurst. "So long as you are happy and amused,
that's everything."
"Amused? Do you think we are doing this for
fun?" demanded Tollhurst stiffly.
"I thought so," said the skipper, looking puzzled.
"It's been a game all along, hasn't it? A little
change from deck-quoits and things of that sort?"
He beamed upon them in a paternal fashion,
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The Castaways
and placing his hand on the rail mounted slowly
to the bridge. Mr. Peplow, blushing painfully,
went below and divested himself of his gun; Toll-
hurst in an unobtrusive fashion removed the pistol
from his sash and slipped it into his pocket.
"He's gone crazy," he said, referring to Captain
Vobster.
Mrs. Jardine exchanged glances with Miss Flack.
"I wonder whether Captain Vobster is right," she
said musingly. "The whole thing is a mystery to
me. It's very curious."
"Very," echoed Miss Flack. "I thought just now
that Captain Tollhurst had saved us all, but of
course if it was only a game Did you under-
stand it was a game, Captain Tollhurst?"
"I don't know what he is talking about," replied
Tollhurst, grinding his teeth.
"Makes us all look so ridiculous," said Knight,
who had just joined the group. "I am so thank-
ful now that I didn't succumb to temptation and
convert myself into a portable armoury. Freddie's
aspect was absolutely terrible."
"If it's a game," said Talwyn, with chilly em-
phasis, "I shall be glad to know who is responsible
for it. I shall also be glad to know Carstairs'
opinion of it when he returns."
He placed his hand on Tollhurst's arm and the
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The Castaways
pair disappeared into the smoke-room. Seamen
appeared from below in ones and twos and went
about their work. Mr. Tarn, making a belated
appearance, was observed to be in close and con-
fidential intercourse with Captain Vobster. Judging
by his wriggling he appeared to be undergoing a
somewhat stiff cross-examination ; but it was evident
from the wink he bestowed upon Mr. Biggs on
his return that he had survived it.
"All right?" inquired Mr. Biggs, somewhat
anxiously, as he lounged up to him a few minutes
later.
Mr. Tarn nodded. "I told 'im I done as I was
told," he replied. "When he arst me who told me,
I said the orders come from 'im in a manner of
speaking, but I couldn't tell 'im 'ow if he was to
cut me up in five million pieces. When I said
p'raps I'd gone a bit beyond 'is orders, he swore
he 'adn't given me none. He's a bit excited got
to talking about wot he called my ugly mug, afore
he'd finished."
The skipper's excitement died down during the
day and gave place to a condition of sulky uneasi-
ness. Under the doctor's advice he turned a deaf
ear to all questions, and the only satisfaction the
passengers received was the news that the Starlight
was proceeding as fast as her engines could carry
285
The Castaways
her to the rescue of Carstairs and his companions
in misfortune.
"And I hope that Mr. Carstairs will insist upon
a full explanation," said Miss Flack.
"And then retail it to us," said Mrs. Jardine,
in a thin voice. "I must confess that I am very
curious."
It was the condition of everybody on board, as
Knight, who paid a visit to the -skipper in his cabin
after lunch, told him.
"They're just bursting with it, aren't they?" he
said, turning to Maloney, who had accompanied
him.
"Let 'em burst," said Vobster churlishly.
"At present," pursued Knight, "they're just guess-
ing at things putting two and two together, so to
speak. What they'll say when they know the truth
I can't imagine. Tollhurst is the worst he's been
made to look a bit ridiculous, and he doesn't like it.
He's got a cousin who is editor of a newspaper,
and I expect the whole thing will be made public
as soon as we get home."
"D n the newspapers," said Vobster, "and
the public," he added impartially.
Knight murmured acquiescence. "Very awkward,
all the same," he said thoughtfully. "Of course,
it will be worse for you than anybody else. The
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The Castaways
idea of a skipper giving his crew orders to mutiny,
and then tie him up as though he were going to
play what the children call 'Honey-pots,' is almost
incredible. Do you know the game?"
"You get out of my cabin," vociferated the in-
dignant skipper. "Who asked you to come here?"
"With pleasure," said the unmoved Knight. "I
merely came to try and do you a kindness, that's
all. However, if you prefer to have your portrait
in the public press, with 'Captain fobster, the
Honey-pot Champion' underneath "
Maloney flung his arms around the skipper's waist
just in time. Baulked of his prey, the latter sub-
sided on the settee and sat glaring darkly at his
would-be benefactor.
"Do you a kindness," repeated Knight. "If this
comes out it might be some time before you get a
ship again. If you can keep your officers' mouths
shut I think I can get you out of it."
"How?" inquired the other, still glaring.
"That's my affair," was the reply. "I've already
cautioned Pope and the bo'sun to keep quiet, and if
you'll put me ashore alone I think I can fix Car-
stairs. If the others get hold of him first it'll all
come out."
"Suppose they want to go?" growled Vobster r
considering.
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The Castaways
"What's that got to do with it?" said Knight.
"When we get to the island put me ashore. If
anybody else wants to go, don't let em. You're
master of this ship, aren't you?"
Maloney caught the skipper's eye. "Better trust
him," he said encouragingly. "He's the most un-
scrupulous chap I ever met; but you can't be in a
worse fix than you are."
The skipper sat pondering. "All right," he said
at last, "have it your own way. And if you never
come back I don't know that I shall be sorry."
288
CHAPTER XXII
THE island was sighted about an hour later,
and it was clear from the behaviour of the
passengers that a landing on an exten-
sive scale was contemplated. Boat parties were
arranged, and, by universal consent, a place was
reserved for the bereaved Markham; Albert, in
view of his sufferings in the general cause, was also
included. On these preparations the skipper be-
stowed a frosty smile but made no comment, and
it was not until the Starlight was hove-to on the
weather-side of the island and two little groups
gathered by their respective boats that he showed
his hand.
"Not go ashore ?" demanded Tollhurst in a loud
voice. "Why not?"
"My orders," said the skipper laconically.
"I don't understand," said Talwyn, coming for-
ward haughtily. "Do you mean to say that you
forbid us to go?"
"I don't say that," said Vobster, "you must do
as you please. All I say is that you are not going
in my boats."
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The Castaways
"But this is preposterous," claimed Tollhurst, as
an indignant murmur arose from his friends. "We
insist upon going. We are Mr. Carstairs' guests,
and if we choose to go ashore we will. Pope, 1
suppose you are in charge while Carstairs is away;
what are your orders?"
"I really think " began Pope, in his deepest
tones.
"Think as much as you like, sir," said Vobster,
reddening. "I'm the only man that gives orders
here."
He turned away and paced slowly up and down
as one of the boats was lowered. Tollhurst and
Talwyn eying him defiantly, went to the accommo-
dation ladder and endeavoured, but in vain, to
push past the seamen in charge. Their anger was
not lessened when they saw Knight trip jauntily
down the ladder and step into the waiting boat.
"Why is he allowed to go?" demanded Toll-
hurst.
"My orders," repeated the skipper.
The oars dipped and the boat shot away. The
noise of many people, all speaking at once, was
borne after it, and Knight, turning his head, was
oddly reminded of the mobbing of an owl. The
demonstration was not concluded until Vobster had
climbed to his perch on the bridge.
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The Castaways
The lagoon was reached after a stiff pull, and
the seamen, relaxing their efforts, took it easy across
the smooth water in the direction of a tent on the
beach. Four noble hearts throbbed as one as Miss
Mudge, aroused by the sound of oars in rowlocks,
burst out of the tent and stood frantically waving
at them.
"It's all right, miss," said the bow-oar as the
boat grounded and the men jumped out and hauled
it up on the beach. "We've come to take you
back."
Miss Mudge, clasping her hands dramatically,
raised her eyes to the sky.
"I had given up all hope," she said in moving
tones. "Oh, if you only knew what I have suffered,
you wouldn't "
"Where's Mr. Carstairs?" interrupted Knight
sharply.
Miss Mudge pointed to the right. "The last I
saw of him," she said precisely, "he was walking
along the beach with my lady. Shall I go and tell
them you're here?"
"I'll go," said Knight, moving off. "You stay
where you are."
Miss Mudge hesitated, and then, seating herself
on the side of the boat and shading her eyes with
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The Castaways
her hand, looked out to sea. "Where is the yacht?"
she inquired.
"T'other side, miss," said one of the men. He
stood looking at her for a moment, and then perched
himself delicately against the side of the boat about
a yard away. Inch by inch the intervening space
disappeared.
"Bill," he said softly as another seaman prepared
to seat himself on the left of the attraction, "if
you and Joe and Bob like to go for to stretch your
legs a bit I'll stand by the boat."
"Ay, ay," said Bill, seating himself. "Was it
very lonely, miss?"
Miss Mudge clasped her hands. "Oh, awful,"
she said, with a shiver. "I didn't get a wink of
sleep all night. I was so frightened." i
Bill gave a sympathetic groan. "I couldn't sleep
neither," he said in a low voice. "Every moment,
just as I was dropping off, I thought of you cast
away 'ere, and woke up agin, with a start."
"I didn't go to bed at all," said the voice of
Joe from behind. "I felt as if I should choke if
I laid down."
"It's a wonder to me he don't choke now," said
Bill, in amazed accents.
"Or be struck dead," said Tom.
"But you helped to put me ashore," said the
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The Castaways
girl severely. "You were all as bad as one an-
other."
"We only done wot w r e was told, miss," said
Joe, coming round the boat and seating himself on
the beach at her feet. "Orders is orders, but I'd
much rather 'ave been told to go up to the mast-
head and chuck myself into the sea."
"He will be struck dead," said Tom with con-
viction.
"It's all very dreadful," said Miss Mudge, clasp-
ing her hands again. "When I think of that Mr.
Tarn having the cheek to take me up in his arms
as if I was a bundle of washing, and you all howl-
ing like wild beasts, I don't know what to think.
I shall never be the same again; my trust in my
fellow-creatures has gone I shall never see a sailor
again without shuddering."
The information was received in pained silence,
broken at last by Bill, who had been regarding
with silent indignation the manoeuvres of his ship-
mate on the beach.
"If you don't like that nasty, oily 'ead in your
lap, miss," he said, in tones of outraged propriety,
"pull its 'air."
He waited hopefully, but the well-bred Miss
Mudge, manifesting no signs of any intention to
follow his advice, acted upon it himself. His min-
293
The Castaways
istrations, at first gentle, increased in power. Joe
winced.
"You 'ave got strong fingers, miss," he said in
tones of soft reproach. "You're making my eyes
fair water."
"Well, why don't you take that fat 'ead of yours
away then?" inquired the delighted Bill. "She's not
wot you could call hurting of you."
He took a firmer grip, and a groan of anguish
broke from the unfortunate Joe. "Here, easy on,
my dear," he exclaimed, reaching up. "You don't
know the strength of them pretty little fingers of
yours. You've got BILL! s'welp me, you do that
agin, and I'll knock your ugly face off of you."
He sprang to his feet so suddenly that the con-
science-stricken Bill went over backwards into the
boat, half taking his fair companion with him.
Placed on an even keel by the strong arm of Tom
she manifested no gratitude, and, after giving her-
self an angry shake, started off along the beach, fol-
lowed at a respectful distance by four distressed
sailormen.
In the meantime Knight, having drawn blank on
the beach, had turned inland. His canvas shoes
made no noise as he strode on, glancing right and
left until, beyond a little group of coco-palms, he
found what he sought. Side by side they stood,
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The Castaways
looking out to sea, and the intruder noticed with
gratified astonishment that Carstairs' arm was
placed in a comfortable fashion around his com-
panion's waist. For a few seconds Knight gazed
his fill and then, with a faint cough, blew them a
yard apart.
"Knight!" cried Carstairs in amazement.
"How do you do," said Knight blandly, as he
bowed to Lady Penrose. "I have come to beg
you to return to the ship."
"Return to the ship!" repeated the bewildered
Carstairs.
Knight nodded. "Everything is at sixes and
sevens since you left us," he said slowly. "We're
in a state of civil war almost. Tollhurst got up
another mutiny this morning, but that's all over
and Vobster is in command again. At least he
was when I left, but it's quite possible by this time
that Albert is in charge. Won't you come?"
"Come!" said Carstairs helplessly. "Come! Do
you think we left the ship of our own free will?"
Knight looked puzzled. "Didn't you?" he in-
quired. "Wasn't it part of the arrangement?"
"What arrangement?" inquired Carstairs, in well-
acted surprise.
"Why. the mutiny you ordered. Wasn't that a
part of it?"
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The Castaways
"Certainly not," said Carstairs, glancing at Lady
Penrose. "And what do you mean by 'the mutiny
I ordered'?"
Knight smiled. "Oh, that's all right," he said
airily. "I've seen your instructions to the skipper.
In fact, I've got 'em. Good job they fell into such
safe hands. By the way, please accept my warmest
congratulations. I am delighted delighted."
There was a long pause. "I don't know what
you are talking about," said Carstairs at last.
"Talking about," repeated Knight. "Why your
engagement to Lady Penrose. Everybody will be
delighted when I tell them. It's a ripping er
sequel."
"Engaged? What do you mean?" demanded
Carstairs.
"Oh, sorry," said Knight coolly. "I was merely
judging by appearances. I naturally thought any-
body would have thought they will all think "
"I forbid you to say anything about it," inter-
rupted Lady Penrose angrily.
Knight bowed. "It is all so misleading," he mur-
mured. "You arrange a mutiny and are set ashore
under the most romantic circumstances, and, when
I discover you making the best of things "
"That'll do," said Carstairs loudly, "and we did
not arrange to be set ashore. Nobody was more
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surprised that we were. It's an absolute mystery
to us."
Knight sighed. "It's a censorious world, and
you must admit that appearances are against you,"
he said gently. "It will be very difficult to convince
Mrs. Jardine. She has been shaking her head off
nearly; and, as for Tollhurst, he is simply raging.
He got rather badly knocked about, and I'm afraid
you will find it hard to give him satisfactory reasons
for your little joke. After all, he is your guest,
you know. What did you do it for?"
Carstairs made no reply.
"You're in a mess," continued Knight, "but if
Lady Penrose will come to terms I think I can get
you out of it. Money returned if not satisfied."
"Terms?" said Lady Penrose, regarding him
scornfully.
Knight nodded. "Let me marry Winnie, and
promise to do the best you can for Freddie, and
I'll take the sole blame," he replied. "Nobody will
have the slightest difficulty in believing me respon-
sible for the outrage. It'll seem the most natural
thing in the world to them. Otherwise "
"No," said Lady Penrose, with sudden vehe-
mence.
"Think it over," urged Knight. "Think of the
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long voyage home with Tollhurst and Mrs. Jar-
dine."
"No" said Lady Penrose again. "Tell them
what you like, and do what you like. I never
thought much of you, and now I think less."
She turned to Carstairs, and, holding herself very
erect, started to walk back to the tent. Knight, a
shade discomfited, followed in the rear, and they
walked on in silence until they came in sight of
Miss Mudge and her retinue.
"Well, if you won't accept my terms," said
Knight, ranging himself alongside Carstairs, "virtue
shall be its own reward. I'll sacrifice myself for
friendship's sake. You keep quiet and I'll do the
rest."
Lady Penrose turned to Carstairs. "Don't dis-
cuss things with him," she said icily.
"The engagement," continued the unmoved
Knight, "had better be kept secret for the present.
And both of you try and look as disagreeable as
you can."
Lady Penrose quickened her pace and walked
straight towards the boat, and four sheepish mar-
iners, touching their caps respectfully to Carstairs,
pushed it into the water. With a subdued air Knight
left the stern seats to the others and made his way
to the bows. As the boat rounded the point and
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came into view of the ship he observed, with some
gratification, that his two friends were looking dis-
tinctly uncomfortable.
"No signs of uncontrollable enthusiasm," he re-
marked, with a cough, as they approached the yacht,
and Lady Penrose shivered despite herself as she
looked at the row of silent figures lining the side.
She waved her hand, and her friends waved silently
in reply. The line arranged itself into a little group
as she passed up the accommodation-ladder, and a
babel of inquiries broke on her ears as she gained
the deck; the voice of Mrs. Jardine being particu-
larly insistent.
"Ask him, 3 ' shouted Carstairs, levelling a trem-
bling forefinger at Knight, who was coming slowly
up the ladder.
11 Eh!" said Tollhurst and Talwyn together with
extraordinary emphasis.
Knight paused at the head of the ladder and
smiled guiltily. "Just a little joke of mine," he
explained, "to relieve the tedium of the voyage."
"Joke!" exclaimed Mrs. Jardine, breaking an
amazed silence. She turned suddenly upon Pope.
"Why, you told us " she began.
"I misled him," interrupted Knight. "At least,
I told him to prepare you for a little surprise. It
was a little surprise, wasn't it?"
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Mrs. Jardine drew herself up and stood regard-
ing him in speechless indignation, but in the hubbub
that ensued her temporary loss of voice was not
noticed.
"Most extraordinary behaviour," said Talwyn.
"Was it by your orders that I was hustled about
the deck, and that one of the seamen put his dirty
fist beneath my nose and told me to smell it? Eh?"
"And that I was knocked about and locked up
in my cabin?" vociferated Tollhurst, regarding him
fiercely.
"Mere animal spirits," said Knight. "Only their
fun."
"Fun !" repeated Tollhurst in a choking voice.
"What are you going to do about it, Carstairs?"
he demanded.
Carstairs shrugged his shoulders. "What can I
do?" he inquired. "I can't have him thrown over-
board. Better leave him to his conscience if he's
got any. I suppose we ought to be thankful that
nobody is really hurt."
"Not his fault," said Maloney in a deep voice,
with a side glance at the culprit. "If you're not
careful it's an undertaker you'll be wanting aboard
instead of a doctor. He's not safe to be at large."
"Let us hope he is ashamed of himself," said
Miss Flack piously.
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It seemed to be an absurd hope, and Mrs. Jar-
dine said so plainly. In the midst of a discussion,
inaugurated by Talwyn as to whether it would be
possible for Vobster to confine the offender to his
cabin for the remainder of the voyage, Knight thrust
his hands in his pockets and sauntered off below.
His appearance at the dinner-table was the signal
for a sudden lull in the conversation, a state of
affairs which by no means affected his appetite.
When towards the end of the meal he raised his
glass and proposed "Sweethearts and Wives" Mrs.
Jardine arose and, with a lingering glance at the
savoury which had just been placed before her, left
the table.
He had the grace, however, to stay on board
next day while the rest of the party paid a visit
to the island; a piece of self-sacrifice which enabled
him to compare notes with Captain Vobster and put
things on a ship-shape and proper footing. Mr.
Biggs, somewhat scared at the result of his handi-
work, also came in for a little instruction.
The Starlight sailed from the island next day, and
the ordinary routine was resumed. The days passed
uneventfully, and Knight, left to himself, was ob-
served to be making himself agreeable to various
members of the crew, a circumstance which caused
Mrs. Jardine and Miss Flack no little uneasiness.
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They even voiced their fears to Carstairs, and that
gentleman, a little conscience-stricken, approached
the sufferer as he sat smoking on deck that even-
ing after dinner with a view of cheering him up.
"S.s.s.s/" hissed Knight. "Go away."
"I thought " began the other mildly.
"I know," said Knight. "They all think. That's
the worst of being popular. I can hardly keep
Freddie and the others off. As for Mrs. Ginnell
I had to pinch her yesterday."
Carstairs stared at him. "Lady Penrose
thinks " he said.
"I know," interrupted the other. "That's what
I want her to do. Now go away, there's a good
chap. Leave me to pay the penalty of her mis-
deeds. If she's got any conscience at all "
A grin of enlightenment dawned on Carstairs'
face. "You young " he began.
"Go away," said Knight, with dignity.
The thoughts of Lady Penrose materialised two
evenings later. She came out of the lighted draw-
ing-room and, peering through the darkness, made
her way to the lonely figure that sat amidships
smoking, and, after a moment's hesitation, sat down
beside it.
"It's very good of you," she said, after a pause.
"Not at all," replied the truthful Knight.
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There was another pause. "I think you have be-
haved very well," she said slowly. "Much better
than. I thought you could."
"We all make mistakes," said Knight ambigu-
ously.
There was another silence, so long that he began
to feel uneasy.
"I think, perhaps, I have misjudged you a little,"
she said at last, "and and if Winnie still wishes
to marry you, she may."
Knight took her hand and raised it respectfully
to his lips. "Thank you very much," he said grate-
fully. "I am very glad to think that my opinion
of you has been justified."
THE END.
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