WHEN I awoke the sun was shining in at the port-holes, and the ship appeared to be quiet, but slanting. It was the slant that had rolled me off the sofa and awakened me. Hence it must have just happened. I went up the companionway, and saw—the boundless blue expanse of dimpled sea? Not at all! Nothing of the kind! On the contrary, a towering green wall of forest trees almost overhung the ship.

Talk not to me of the ruthless chain of causes whereby all things are bound, of nature's dismal obedience to law! As a scientist, I admit it with reservation—as a man, with tears. But what I really like about things is their fresh and genial inconsequence. Among all worlds, give me one compact of improbability. Among all women, give me one of invincible good sense.

The Violetta lay something over fifty feet from a high wooded bank. The tide was out, but the shelve of the bottom must be steep, for her list to landward was not very great. We were on the eastern side of a semicircular bay, which opened toward the south. It was still early morning. No wind stirred, and the ripples flowed gently among the stones beneath the high banks. Bright-coloured birds flitted between the tall stems of the palm trees. A place so calm, so halcyon, so appropriate to the purposes of my suit! In fact,—Bless my soul!—nothing could be better.

Professor Simpson and Mrs. Mink appeared on deck.

“Oh!” she said; “Where's this, doctor?”

She looked as if she thought I had omnipotently arranged the climax. I passed the question on to the professor.

“Tentatively,” he said, “I should conjecture it was an outlying island somewhat to the north or east of Martinique.”

“But does any one live on it?”

“That Dr. Ulswater and myself will take upon us to discover.”

“Well, I think it's a nice island, anyway. But there aren't any boats. How are we going to get on it?”

“Precisely!” said the professor. “A problem! I would suggest, perhaps, a bridge of—of palm trees, felled—” he kindled with light inflammable ideas—“felled in such a manner as to fall forward upon the ship, thus, being fastened, to form a secure connection with the shore.”

“I don't see how you can chop them from here,” said Mrs. Mink.

“True. That is a difficulty.”

There was a pause. A green and scarlet parrot was swearing at us from where he swung on a vine above the bank. I leaned on the rail and listened to the parrot and considered his point of view.

“Professor,” I said at last; “this is a world of compensations. There's compensation in your not understanding the dialect of that parrot. His clothes are handsome, but his language is bad. You are religious and ascetic, and he's a worldling. I'm a worldling, too, but I can swim, and I see compensations.”

“Let's have breakfast,” said Mrs. Mink.

After breakfast I swam ashore with an axe, climbed the bank, selected four tall slender palms that leaned in the direction of the Violetta's after-deck, and hacked them down. Two of them fell on the Violetta and damaged her rail, but stuck where they fell. The professor roped the ends to a capstan, and crossed that sagging bridge, respectably calm, dragging after him the long end of the rope, which we fastened to a tree. The Violetta was moored.

Mrs. Mink came, too, nervous but firm.

What a woman! Practical, foreseeing, sagacious, she will walk the tight-rope of any catastrophe. In fact, she brought a hammock and a cushion with her. Norah's method of crossing somewhat resembled shinning a pole. ON recollection, I should say that she yelled.

When Professor Simpson and I set out to explore the island, Norah was throwing stones at the green and red parrot, and Mrs. Mink lay in the hammock, not understanding that parrot's dialect, which I didn't understand altogether myself, but it appeared to me he was blistering the foliage with it.

The island was some three to five miles around by the coast, and no other land was in sight from it, barring a slight bump on the southeastern horizon which might be another small island, or might be Mont PelÉe. It appeared we had been blown some distance during the night. There were no inhabitants at the time, or we found none, though there were two groups of sorry huts not far from the beach, and frequent paths through the woods, showing occasional occupancy.

We came back by the northern shore of the bay, and saw that the Violetta was safe. We stood some moments in silence. The wind had risen again and now blew hard from the west, so that the Violetta was protected on a lee shore, though where we stood the waves rolled in tumultuously. Professor Simpson broke the silence. He suddenly planted himself before me, his hands on his hips, and frowned.

Now, a frown that is directed upward has the law of gravitation against it. Professor Simpson's shortness incommoded him in that respect.

“It is not my habit, Dr. Ulswater,” he began, “to brook impertinent opposition or light-minded interference. In, therefore, announcing my intention to invite Mrs. Mink to the alliance of marriage, I consider that no more need be said. I wish to be relieved of this undignified rivalry, and to avail myself of this situation to fulfil my purpose in peace. I demand that your too noticeable attentions shall cease. Your attitude toward Mrs. Mink is offensive to me. I repeat, sir, they must cease.”

Extraordinary professor! Never was another like him. He was a species.

“But,” I said, feebly; “look here. I've already been at Mrs. Mink on that subject myself. I was thinking it was a good time to work up to it again.”

“I object to your giving Mrs. Mink that annoyance. Her preference for me is perfectly plain. You are without personal attractions.”

“What!”

“You are too fat.”

“But, professor! On the other hand, ought not the fact of your being a contemptible little dried-up molecule, with the temper of a mosquito and the humour of a codfish ball, oughtn't that—now really, oughtn't that fact to be given some weight in the discussion? I appeal to you, professor?”

“Sir!”

He clenched his fists. It was a critical and perilous moment. Did he or did he not intend an attack on my diaphragm? Should I or should I not be presently seated on top of him like a bolster on a crab?

There is a Haitian proverb which says, “It's when the wind blows that you see the skin of a hen.”

Professor Simpson drew a long breath, and suddenly laid himself flat on the ground, extended his arms and legs and closed his eyes.

“I was somewhat heated,” he murmured. “To allay any mental strain, such as vexation or anger, extend the body, relax the muscles, and endeavour to abstract the mind from surroundings. The effect is invariable. Let me recommend it to you. There!” he said, after a moment, getting to his feet. “I am quite calm. And now, clearly, Dr. Ulswater, clearly, we must submit it to Mrs. Mink. I suggest, then, that we ask her for a half-hour's interview each. Subsequently, she will announce her decision, and thus we will conclude our dispute.”

I agreed. We went amicably along the shore of the bay toward the Violetta.

Norah was in the hammock, but Mrs. Mink had gone aboard again, and stood by the rail looking toward us. The yacht lay on a lee shore, and there the water was fairly calm; but the force of the wind, in spite of the protection of the trees, was such now as to put some strain on the rope which stretched taut to the bank.

“In half an hour, then,” said Professor Simpson, “you will be at liberty to interrupt me.”

He was over the bridge while I was figuring on the discrepancy,—the something not quite predestined,—in his having the first shot,—that is to say, the first opportunity,—of presenting his case to Mrs. Mink. I was going to propose we should flip a coin for it. He was a wonder, a wonder! I called out to Mrs. Mink, asking for an interview in half an hour. She looked surprised. I went back among the trees, and wished I were a Presbyterian, and watched, during that long half-hour, the minutes slowly passing on the cold unfeeling face of my watch. I allowed the full time and went back.

Professor Simpson was still arguing. I concluded, comfortably, that his argument had not, as yet, convinced Mrs. Mink. They stood by the rail, near the straining rope that fastened the yacht to the bank.

“Professor,” I called, “your time's up. I'm coming aboard.”

He raised his hands. He was excited. He cried:

“I have not concluded! Mrs. Mink! A few moments more! No, no! I refuse to be interrupted.”

Mrs. Mink said nothing. Her expression of face was the expression of an interested spectator. It seemed to say: “Which of you is going to do something?” I went toward the bridge. He wrung his hands. His excitement became intense.

“It is critical, sir, critical! Your conduct is inconsiderate, offensive! I insist!”

Suddenly he disappeared below the rail.

He rose again. An axe was aloft in both his hands. He rushed at the rope. He struck! The miserable little pirate! He chopped the rope, the infinitesimal assassin!

The yacht keeled over, under pressure of the gale, and Mrs. Mink and Professor Simpson disappeared. Probably they slid to the other side. The bridge was dragged after the yacht. I was nearly on it, and all but pitched from the bank into the water. Norah sat up and yelled. The green parrot climbed down and swore. The Violetta regained her level and drifted rapidly away.

I picked up the axe that had been used to fell the palm trees, and ran along the shore. It was an action not suited to my physique. I had to stop and take breath.

“However,” I reflected, “he's done for himself. Mrs. Mink won't stand for it. Or—or, will she?”

At the same time I did not like a rival so fertile in expedients, nor the fact that he and Mrs. Mink were both Presbyterians.

The yacht was not driving in the direction of the open sea, but across the bay, nearly toward the spot where Professor Simpson and I had had our first altercation.