I saw what I had done, and I screamed, and then Martin’s head appeared after a moment on the ledge above me.  But it was too late for him to do anything, for the boat had already drifted six yards away, and just when I thought he would have shrieked at me for cutting off our only connection with the shore, he said: 

“Never mind, shipmate!  We allus expecs to lose a boat or two when we’re out asploring.”

I was silent from shame, but Martin, having hauled me up the rock by help of the broom handle, rattled away as if nothing had happened—­pointing proudly to a rust-eaten triangle with a bell suspended inside of it and his little flag floating on top.

“But, oh dear, what are we to do now?” I whimpered.

“Don’t you worrit about that,” he said.  “We’ll just signal back to the next base—­we call them bases when we’re out asploring.”

I understood from this that he was going to ring the bell which, being heard on the land, would bring somebody to our relief.  But the bell was big, only meant to be put in motion on stormy nights by the shock and surging of an angry sea, and when Martin had tied a string to its tongue it was a feeble sound he struck from it.

Half an hour passed, an hour, two hours, and still I saw nothing on the water but our own empty boat rocking its way back to the shore.

“Will they ever come?” I faltered.

“Ra—­ther!  Just you wait and you’ll see them coming.  And when they take us ashore there’ll be crowds and crowds with bugles and bands and things to take us home.  My goodness, yes,” he said, with the same wild look, “hundreds and tons of them!”

But the sun set over the sea behind us, the land in front grew dim, the moaning tide rose around the quaking rock and even the screaming sea-fowl deserted us, and still there was no sign of relief.  My heart was quivering through my clothes by this time, but Martin, who had whistled and sung, began to talk about being hungry.

“My goodness yes, I’m that hungry I could eat. . . .  I could eat a dog—­we allus eats our dogs when we’re out asploring.”

This reminded me of the biscuit, but putting my hand to the pocket of my frock I found to my dismay that it was gone, having fallen out, perhaps, when I slipped in my climbing.  My lip fell and I looked up at him with eyes of fear, but he only said: 

“No matter!  We never minds a bit of hungry when we’re out asploring.”

I did not know then, what now I know, that my little boy who could not learn his lessons and had always been in disgrace, was a born gentleman, but my throat was thick and my eyes were swimming and to hide my emotion I pretended to be ill.

“I know,” said Martin.  “Dizzingtory! [dysentery].  We allus has dizzingtory when we’re out asploring.”

There was one infallible cure for that, though—­milk!

“I allus drinks a drink of milk, and away goes the dizzingtory in a jiffy.”