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 
 
 3
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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- 
 
 4
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 5
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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. 
 
 6
 
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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. 
 
 7
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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." 
 
 8
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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.
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 10
 
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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- 
 
 ii
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 13
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 15
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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." 
 
 16
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 18
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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," 
 
 19
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 20
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 21
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 22
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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- 
 23
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 24
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 25
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 53
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 55
 
 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 
 
 56
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 58
 
 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. 
 
 59
 
 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. 
 61
 
 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?" 
 
 62
 
 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. 
 
 63
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 65
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 66
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 67
 
 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. 
 
 69
 
 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 
 
 70
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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?" 
 
 72
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 73
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 74
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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- 
 
 76
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 77
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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?" 
 
 78
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 79
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 81
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 82
 
 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. 
 
 83
 
 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." 
 
 84
 
 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 
 
 85
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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, 
 
 86
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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, 
 
 88
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 89
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 90
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 92
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 93
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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. 
 94
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 95
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 96
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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, 
 
 97
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 98
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 99
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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?" 
 
 100
 
 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." 
 
 101
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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. 
 
 103
 
 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." 
 
 104
 
 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 
 105
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 106
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 107
 
 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, 
 108
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 109
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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- 
 
 112
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 114
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 117
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 118
 
 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 
 
 119
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 121
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 122
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 123
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 124
 
 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?" 
 
 125
 
 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." 
 
 129
 
 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." 
 
 139
 
 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." 
 
 141
 
 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. 
 142
 
 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 
 
 143
 
 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?" 
 
 147
 
 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 
 148
 
 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. 
 
 150
 
 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. 
 
 152
 
 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." 
 
 154
 
 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 
 
 156
 
 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 
 
 157
 
 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 
 
 158
 
 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- 
 
 159
 
 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." 
 
 161
 
 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 
 
 163
 
 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. 
 
 164
 
 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 
 165
 
 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 
 
 166
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 167
 
 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- 
 168
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 170
 
 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 
 
 172
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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- 
 
 173
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 174
 
 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." 
 
 175
 
 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 
 176
 
 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
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 178
 
 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. 
 
 179
 
 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." 
 
 i8o
 
 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 
 
 182
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 183
 
 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." 
 
 185
 
 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." 
 
 186
 
 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 
 187
 
 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. 
 188
 
 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." 
 
 189
 
 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- 
 
 190
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 192
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 193
 
 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 
 
 195
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 196
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 197
 
 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 
 
 198
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 199
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 200
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 201
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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?" 
 
 202
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 203
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 204
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 205
 
 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. 
 
 206
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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. 
 
 207
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 208 

 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 209
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 210
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 212
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 213
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 !" 
 
 214
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 215
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 216
 
 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 
 
 217
 
 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 
 218
 
 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. 
 
 219
 
 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 
 
 220
 
 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. 
 
 221
 
 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." 
 
 222
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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?" 
 
 224
 
 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!" 
 
 225
 
 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. 
 226
 
 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 
 
 243
 
 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." 
 
 244
 
 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 
 
 248
 
 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 
 
 249
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 250
 
 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." 
 
 251
 
 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. 
 
 252
 
 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?" 
 
 253
 
 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- 
 254
 
 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." 
 
 257
 
 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. 
 260
 
 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 
 
 261
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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." 
 
 262
 
 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 
 
 263
 
 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. 
 
 264
 
 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?" 
 
 265
 
 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. 
 
 266
 
 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. 
 
 267
 
 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 
 268
 
 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. 
 
 269
 
 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 " 
 
 270
 
 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. 
 
 272
 
 The Castaways 
 
 "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 
 
 273
 
 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 
 
 275
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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? 
 
 276
 
 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." 
 
 277
 
 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 
 
 278
 
 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 
 
 280
 
 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 
 
 281
 
 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 
 
 282
 
 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, 
 283
 
 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 
 284
 
 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 
 
 286
 
 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. 
 
 287
 
 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." 
 
 289
 
 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. 
 
 290
 
 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 
 
 291
 
 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 
 292
 
 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, 
 
 294
 
 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?" 
 
 295
 
 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 
 
 296
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 297
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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 
 
 298
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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?" 
 
 299
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 300
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 
 301
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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. 
 302
 
 The Castaways 
 
 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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 UC SOUTHERN REGION 
 
 A 000 196 159 8