Iris was serious enough now.

“How do you know that such danger threatens us?” she demanded.

He countered readily.  “Because I happen to have read a good deal about the China Sea and its frequenters,” he said.  “I am the last man in the world to alarm you needlessly.  All I mean to convey is that certain precautions should be taken against a risk that is possible, not probable.  No more.”

She could not repress a shudder.  The aspect of nature was so beneficent that evil deeds seemed to be out of place in that fair isle.  Birds were singing around them.  The sun was mounting into a cloudless sky.  The gale had passed away into a pleasant breeze, and the sea was now rippling against the distant reef with peaceful melody.

The sailor wanted to tell her that he would defend her against a host of savages if he were endowed with many lives, but he was perforce tongue-tied.  He even reviled himself for having spoken, but she saw the anguish in his face, and her woman’s heart acknowledged him as her protector, her shield.

“Mr. Jenks,” she said simply, “we are in God’s hands.  I put my trust in Him, and in you.  I am hopeful, nay more, confident.  I thank you for what you have done, for all that you will do.  If you cannot preserve me from threatening perils no man could, for you are as brave and gallant a gentleman as lives on the earth today.”

Now, the strange feature of this extraordinary and unexpected outburst of pent-up emotion was that the girl pronounced his name with the slightly emphasized accentuation of one who knew it to be a mere disguise.  The man was so taken aback by her declaration of faith that the minor incident, though it did not escape him, was smothered in a tumult of feeling.

He could not trust himself to speak.  He rose hastily and seized the axe to deliver a murderous assault upon a sago palm that stood close at hand.

Iris was the first to recover a degree of self-possession.  For a moment she had bared her soul.  With reaction came a sensitive shrinking.  Her British temperament, no less than her delicate nature, disapproved these sentimental displays.  She wanted to box her own ears.

With innate tact she took a keen interest in the felling of the tree.

“What do you want it for?” she inquired, when the sturdy trunk creaked and fell.

Jenks felt better now.

“This is a change of diet,” he explained.  “No; we don’t boil the leaves or nibble the bark.  When I split this palm open you will find that the interior is full of pith.  I will cut it out for you, and then it will be your task to knead it with water after well washing it, pick out all the fiber, and finally permit the water to evaporate.  In a couple of days the residuum will become a white powder, which, when boiled, is sago.”

“Good gracious!” said Iris.

“The story sounds unconvincing, but I believe I am correct.  It is worth a trial.”