THOUGH considerably exhausted by my toilsome tramp and the excitement of the reconnoissance, I got very little sleep after I retired to my hammock that night. Not until near dawn did unconsciousness come; and as is usually the case under such circumstances, though my mind during these hours of sleeplessness dwelt continually on the danger that threatened not only our plans but ourselves as well, nothing came of the thought except added apprehension. There is scarcely ever any good result from what may be best termed “worry.” The mind, like the body, refuses to act when deprived of its usual rest. One may indeed fancy he is thinking most deeply, during the still hours of the night when he should be sleeping, but in truth such thought is rarely genuine; it is only puerile worry, totally lacking in virility and potency to solve real difficulties. The fatigued brain like a coward magnifies all obstacles, and at the same time overlooks their solution, and ignores the hopes that rise to illumine the fresh intelligence of the rested thinker.

The consequence was I did not waken in the morning until called to breakfast by Alice Millward well on toward eight o’clock.

The gale had sunk to a gentle breeze from the same quarter. The bright blue sky was flecked here and there with high clouds, soft and fleecy white, their shadows a mellow, purple gray. It was a fresh, bright, beautiful morning, such as breathes hope and confidence in the apprehensive mind. I immediately began to discount the probabilities of impending disaster that had oppressed me, and our talk at the breakfast table was all in a hopeful strain. What right had we to suppose the pearl-fishing gang would discover us? It was not probable they would stay long,—a month or two at farthest,—and there was no telling how long they had already been here. They would be busy at their work on the other side of the island, with nothing to cause them to wander about except the pig-hunting, when they wanted fresh pork. If they should chance to descend from the central cliffs, they could not see our habitation or boats, unless they should happen to come around the island to the beach above or below us.

It behooved us therefore to lie close for the present, and the chances seemed to favor our escaping notice. By carefully guarding against raising a smoke during the day with our fires, we should greatly diminish the chances of being discovered, and at night we would keep no fire. We could lower the masts of the boats, and by mooring them a little farther up they would be partly hidden by the willows. So, too, as to the galleon; unless one actually climbed upon the rocks and looked down into the basin, there was nothing in the external appearance of the place from sea or shore to denote its existence. The vines I had planted now grew most luxuriantly over the shed and the house, so that a casual observer from a distance might well fail to distinguish human habitations. There was, however, the naked palm tree with its cross-piece which I had rigged long ago as a distress signal, standing most conspicuously. This must come down at once; it would be plainly visible at a great distance up and down the beach, and from the sea. A few blows of the axe would soon remedy that. Thus we discussed the situation; and although bad enough in all conscience to cause us much mental disturbance, it did not seem without hope.

After arranging our belongings so that they would attract as little attention as possible, we sat quietly down to await events. We read aloud by turns from Charles Dickens’s beautiful story “Our Mutual Friend;” Mr. Millward revived his early experiences; we improvised a checker-board and finally a set of chess-men, and Mr. Millward and I pondered long over intricate situations arising from Evans gambit. Nevertheless the time hung heavy on our hands, owing to the shadow of anxiety that was over us. Mention was seldom made of the pearl-fishers, but they were always more or less in mind. Thus passed three days, during which we heard nothing from the other party on the island.

On the morning of the fourth day, two hours before dawn, I departed for a second reconnoissance, intending to conceal myself in some place where I could remain during a portion of the daylight for the purpose of getting a better knowledge of our neighbors and their doings. By starlight I readily made my way to the cliffs about Farm Cove, and there, just as the dawn was breaking, concealed myself in a bed of fern growing among the rocks. From the lay of the land I judged there would be no difficulty in seeing the camp from where I was hidden, and such proved to be the case. By the aid of a glass belonging to Mr. Millward I could bring the camp up to an apparent distance not exceeding two rods.

The whole party was asleep, so far as I could judge, when I first observed them. About an hour after sunrise the Chinaman rose up from his blanket, and after yawning and stretching himself in sleepy fashion proceeded to build a fire and cook a breakfast for the party. This was soon done, and then he went from one to the other of the sleepers and roused them. The breakfast for the white man was carried into the tent.

After the eating was over the whole party, except the Chinaman, went down to the boat, which was a good-sized sloop, of twice the tonnage of either of ours, and embarked, pulling out of the creek by a warp laid out to a buoy for that purpose. They had a good-sized dingy, or better, a yawl, in tow. When they reached the buoy, which was at a distance of forty rods or thereabouts from shore, they made fast to it, and the three Indians with the negro got into the yawl and pulled away a hundred yards or so to the south, the white man remaining on board the sloop, where I could see him sitting near the tiller smoking a cigar.

When the party in the yawl reached the distance mentioned, the negro being at the oars, they came to a standstill, and I could see the Indians strip for diving. The operation was wholly new to me and interesting. They took turns one after another. The fellow whose turn it was to dive got over the side and took hold of a line, to the end of which a great stone was tied, and which was provided with two loops, in which he inserted his feet. When he was all ready one of the other Indians allowed the rope to pay out rapidly, and down sank the diver carrying a sort of bag hung around his neck. After the Indian had been down what seemed to me an extraordinary length of time for a man to stay under water, he came up without the bag and clung to the side of the boat seemingly in a state of utter exhaustion. The two Indians in the boat then helped him on board and he immediately lay down, while his companions hauled up the stone again and brought inboard the bag, from which they emptied perhaps a bushel of great flat oysters. Then another took his turn, and so on in rotation, until a considerable heap of the great bivalves, each of which was four or five inches in diameter, was collected. These they carried to the sloop and began again, shifting their position a little each time under the direction of the man on the sloop, who sat watching and smoking the whole time.

I had heard remarkable stories of the length of time pearl-divers could remain under water, some accounts putting it as high as ten minutes, and I was sorry I had no timepiece with me to find out how long the men before me actually stayed down. As a substitute for a more accurate method, I timed them several times by counting my own pulse-beats. Allowing seventy-five beats to the minute, which I believe was about right, the longest time I could make out was a little over two minutes. The shortness of the time was a surprise to me, for judging from my untimed observations the apparent duration was frequently between five and ten minutes. I think the exaggerated accounts we receive are due to the natural tendency of an observer who does not actually measure the time to think it longer than it really is.

The oyster-gathering thus conducted in my view was a slow business, as the divers did not go down oftener than once in fifteen or twenty minutes, and were seemingly in no hurry to go down at all, though willing enough to come up. This was the frequent occasion of rough and stern command from the man in the sloop, who kept up a more or less constant talk across the water with his subordinates. When a diver would come up too soon or with a light find, a string of imprecations in Spanish would greet him; so, too, when one hesitated too long before he plunged in.

When I had watched this performance for an hour or two I began to think of getting back home. The Chinaman had finished his work and was seated at the foot of a tree knitting a white cotton sock, his fingers plying the bright steel needles as fast as ever I saw a grandmother do it. He sat precisely facing my place of concealment, and every now and then would look up and around, his needles still going with automatic regularity. This was very annoying. I did not dare to move so long as he sat there; for if he should chance to look up while I was scaling the rock just back of me—a height of perhaps ten feet—to reach the summit of the cliff, discovery was almost certain. I was obliged, therefore, to remain where I was.

In order to improve the time I examined the interior of the tent with the telescope. The only thing I saw of interest there was a double-barrelled breech-loading shot-gun slung to the ridgepole, with a belt of cartridges. You may be sure I coveted the possession of this weapon and its ammunition, and had there been any way to get it, should not under the circumstances have hesitated to appropriate it to my own use and the defence of my friends. But even if I had succeeded in getting it without being seen by the knitting Chinaman its loss would at once be discovered and the presence of others on the island immediately suspected. I now turned my glass on the Chinaman and soon saw him close his eyes while still knitting away. He looked up now no longer, but his fingers kept on plying the needles. His head gradually sunk upon his breast. The man was evidently knitting in his sleep! A moment later his hands fell into his lap, and after a few more of the automatic movements became still. I lost no further time in climbing back to the summit and getting out of sight in the forest, from whence I made my way home safely.

We continued to lie close at home after this, as before. In order that no smoke should rise by day we now made a practice of cooking at night-time in the fireplace so that the fire would not be visible. We did not venture out on the beach at any time during daylight where we might be seen from a distance. This life continued thus for a week, and I had about made up my mind to take another trip to Farm Cove to see if the pearl-fishers were still there. This, however, became unnecessary, for just as I had reached that conclusion we were informed of the fact that the visitors were still present by the sound of several shots from the centre of the island.

To occupy some of the time that hung so heavy on our hands, Mr. Millward and I took down the pumping-machine and loaded it on the big boat, to be in readiness to carry to the basin when we should feel it safe to do so. We went out fishing after dark in the smaller boat several times to eke out our supply of provisions by a stock of fresh fish. One night I was fortunate enough to turn a fine turtle, which gave us a good supply of meat and a plenty of eggs. The latter made a fairly good omelet, but had a slightly unpleasant oily taste.

Thus passed another week of enforced idleness. I cannot deny that the society of Alice Millward proved an ample compensation to me for this delay in our plans. We were almost constantly together, and there grew up between us, I was certain, a perfect feeling of comradeship, even if it went no further on her part. A thousand times during this period of intimate association my great love for this sweet girl, who grew sweeter and dearer as I came to know her better, impelled me to speak to her of my regard. But I did not do so. It seemed to me then that by so doing I might risk the delight of her companionship. As our present relations stood we were happy in each other’s friendship. Her beautiful eyes looked into mine so frankly and cordially, her hand lay often so confidingly in my own, her smile was so friendly and sweet, that I dared not risk the utterance of words which, if they found no response in her own heart, would make mine so desolate. You may perhaps quote to me the old adage that “faint heart never won fair lady.” But please remember my situation. You would not ask a shipwrecked mariner to give up the plank on which he floats; no more could you ask me to risk the only joy I knew. If there lurked discomfort in the uncertainty, certainty might develop more than discomfort—utter despair. I trust that I am not a coward in all things; yet in this thing my heart beat faint at the possibility of disappointment.

It seemed to me that her father more than half guessed the state of my heart. But he never said a word to indicate it to me, and I only judged so from his manner at times; for example, from the fond way in which he would look at his daughter, or stroke her hair,—little things which suggested to my mind the idea that he thought of the time when another might claim her from him. My turbulent heart would beat then at the bare possibility that I might be that happy man. It must be a great sorrow for a loving parent, who tenderly cherished a daughter through helpless infancy and childhood, till she blossoms into womanhood, to see her wooed and won away by a stranger—a sorrow that is not less poignant because untainted by any selfish desire to hinder the loved one from leaving the home nest, and acquiring new loves and affections which shall inevitably displace to a great degree the old ones. It is small consolation to the heart bereft that it is the course of nature. That does not bring back the lost one. The parent would not have it different, and yet the grief is there. Akin to this is the fond regret of the mother who sees with mingled pride and sorrow her babe grow out of its sweet helplessness. Day by day the little one must seem to become less and less a part of herself. Her old love may take on a new form, but it is not so dear a form.

One beautiful morning as we sat in the shed eating a late breakfast and engaged in a lively conversation concerning the successful manner in which we had evaded the notice of our neighbors at Farm Cove, wondering if they were still there, and if so how long they would remain, we were all surprised to see Duke come running into the shed as fast as he could go, and plunge under the table with his tail between his legs and a cowed air about him that was quite strange to the dog. The action was remarkable, for Duke was a well-bred dog, and this conduct was not only peculiar but also in very bad form. I got up immediately and looked up and down the beach. There, not ten rods away and coming straight toward the shed, was the chief of the pearl-fishing gang. Positively for a second or two I felt paralyzed. Mr. Millward and Alice were almost immediately beside me; and as soon as I could control myself I said to them in a low tone, “It is the leader.”

The man advanced with a perfectly assured self-possession, and when near took off his broad panama hat, bowed with great dignity and no lack of courtly grace, saying in Spanish, “The day is better for beholding you.”

“Good morning, sir,” said Mr. Millward.

“Ah, very good; you speak English,” said the stranger in our own tongue and with no trace of foreign pronunciation or accent. “I am glad. It is my own language. You will pardon me for intruding upon you. But I only followed my dog which has been lost for some time, and which I have just found. He ran into your premises, as you noticed just now.”

“Then your name must be H. Senlis,” said I to him with as much politeness of demeanor as I could command.

“True, my friend,” replied he, suavely; “no doubt you may read it on the dog’s collar. H. Senlis is my name, and Duke is my dog. The rascal mutinied and ran away from me, but that makes him no less my property.”

His property was at that moment cowering under the table, looking very much as an escaped convict might at the appearance of his keeper.

“Of course, Mr. Senlis,” said I, “if the dog is yours, as it seems he is, we lay no claim to him. He came to us as a stray animal. You have a right to your property, though we should be sorry to lose him. If you had not claimed him it was our intention to carry him away from the island soon at our departure.”

“Poor Duke!” said Alice; “we shall not like to part with him.”

Off came the panama again with a most profound bow, and he said, “Do not distress yourself, lady. It is not my intention or desire to take the dog from you. It became necessary for me to punish him for insubordination. He ran away. He is still in a mutinous mind, and I have no use for him unless it be to punish him again, and that is hardly worth the while, as I fear he is incorrigible. Permit me then to surrender to you”—another profound bow—“all my right and remaining title in the animal.”

The man’s effusive, overdone politeness, the bold, undisguised stare which he gave to Alice, all tended to confuse the girl so that she answered nothing to this speech.

Her father noticing this broke in by saying, “We were just at breakfast when you came up. Will you partake of our fare?”

“Surely I will, and with much pleasure,” answered the stranger; and thereupon as we gave way he entered the shed, and when I had procured him a seat we all four sat down at the table. As he came in Duke rapidly departed from under the table.

The stranger’s appetite appeared to be excellent, judging from the quantity of baked pork and beans and hot corn bread he disposed of, and the gourd of steaming hot coffee he drank.

“How do you happen to be here?” said he at length to Mr. Millward.

“We are castaways,” answered the old man, and added, “When I landed here a few months ago I was helpless, unable to move a limb, in short, paralyzed. But I am recovering, and may say, indeed, that I am now almost myself again.”

“Then you have been here several months,” said the stranger, his eyes fixed on Mr. Millward.

“Yes.”

“Why do you remain here, now that you are well? Or is it that you cannot get away?”

“Can you assist us to get away?” said Mr. Millward, and I was somewhat amused at the delicate diplomacy of this reply.

“Well,” said the stranger, “it may be possible. I will see what can be done. Our boat is rather small and heavily laden. But I will see. I will see, and let you know.”

At this point I broke in, saying, “When did you land?”

“We came yesterday,” said he, coolly; “a party of us are here pig-hunting.”

“There is a great plenty of pigs to be had,” said I, accepting the lie without remark. “When do you intend leaving?”

“We shall not remain long,—two or three days, or perhaps a week,” said he; and after a pause he added, “but I will let you know in time.”

He inquired our names, and where we wanted to go; praised the breakfast unstintedly; bent furtive glances of coarse admiration on Alice from time to time; and conducted himself all through with the utmost assurance.

When we rose from the table and went out on the beach, he drew some long, plantation Cuban cigars from his pocket, offered us each one, which we did not refuse, and we began to smoke together.

Presently he spied on the beach one of the cages of gourds such as we had used in raising the galleon,—an extra one, not used. He walked up to this object and contemplated it for several moments, turning it over with his foot.

Finally he said, “Mr. Millward, I am a good deal puzzled over this thing. I suppose it was cast up here by the sea. Can you tell me what it is for?”

“I cannot, Mr. Senlis.”

“Well, it is very surprising indeed. In our sloop in the open sea a hundred miles west of here we came across thousands of these things floating in the water—literally thousands of them, all just like this one, four gourds in a willow cage, with a wooden hook at the end of a line. If it is some sort of fishing-apparatus I don’t understand how it could be used. And where did they all come from?”

Though this made me feel decidedly uncomfortable, I could hardly forbear laughing, as the thought of the sea full of gourds, and the puzzle which they would present to a chance navigator, came thus forcibly to mind.

He looked at the thing a moment longer, gave it a vicious kick as though to punish it for daring to puzzle him, and then turned away.

Mr. Millward then took him to our flourishing garden, and said the visitors would be welcome to a supply of fresh vegetables if they desired it. A huge bunch of plantains caught the captain’s eye, as it hung in the porch of the house, and he said, “Do you find plantains on the island?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Millward, “and bananas as well. If you like we can supply your party with both.”

“If we expected to remain long it would be an object. But we shall be going so soon now that it is scarcely worth the trouble.”

We then returned to the house at the visitor’s suggestion, and he with the most formal courtesy, as though parting with a hostess, took Alice Millward’s hand and thanked her for his breakfast and said adieu to her and us.

“You will hear from me in a day or two, a week at most. In the mean time I hope you will not disturb the pigs. Perhaps it would be better if you should keep away from the higher part of the island entirely, as it might drive our game into the lowlands where it would be more difficult to find.”

After a pause, as though considering something, he added: “Personally, I should be pleased to have you visit our camp, which is on the other side of the island. But I will not now ask you to do so, for the reason that it will be difficult for me to induce my companions to submit to the inconvenience that would result from our making room for three additional persons in our boat. Perhaps on the whole it would be best that they should not know you are here at present, and until I have had opportunity to prepare them for your reception. I will let you know in time. And now farewell until I see you again.”

With this he stalked off over the savanna to the southwest, without again looking back. The cool, self-possessed manner in which the man had lied was astonishing. And we were utterly unable to determine his purpose, beyond the fact that evidently he wanted to conceal the nature of his business on the island.