He snapped the locks and squinted down the barrels of half a dozen to test them.  These he laid on one side.  Then he rapidly constructed a small raft from loose timbers, binding them roughly with rope, and to this argosy he fastened the box of tea, the barrels of flour, the broken saloon-chair, and other small articles which might be of use.  He avoided any difficulty in launching the raft by building it close to the water’s edge.  When all was ready the rising tide floated it for him; he secured it to his longest rope, and gave it a vigorous push off into the lagoon.  Then he slung four rifles across his shoulders, asked Iris to carry the remaining two in like manner, and began to manoeuvre the raft landwards.

“Whilst you land the goods I will prepare dinner,” announced the girl.

“Please be careful not to slip again on the rocks,” he said.

“Indeed I will.  My ankle gives me a reminder at each step.”

“I was more concerned about the rifles.  If you fell you might damage them, and the incoming tide will so hopelessly rust those I leave behind that they will be useless.”

She laughed.  This assumption at brutality no longer deceived her.

“I will preserve them at any cost, though with six in our possession there is a margin for accidents.  However, to reassure you, I will go back quickly.  If I fall a second time you will still be able to replace any deficiencies in our armament.”

Before he could protest she started off at a run, jumping lightly from rock to rock, though the effort cost her a good deal of pain.  Disregarding his shouts, she persevered until she stood safely on the sands.  Then saucily waving a farewell, she set off towards the cave.

Had she seen the look of fierce despair that settled down upon Jenks’s face as he turned to his task of guiding the raft ashore she might have wondered what it meant.  In any case she would certainly have behaved differently.

By the time the sailor had safely landed his cargo Iris had cooked their midday meal.  She achieved a fresh culinary triumph.  The eggs were fried!

“I am seriously thinking of trying to boil a ham,” she stated gravely.  “Have you any idea how long it takes to cook one properly?”

“A quarter of an hour for each pound.”

“Admirable!  But we can measure neither hours nor pounds.”

“I think we can do both.  I will construct a balance of some kind.  Then, with a ham slung to one end, and a rifle and some cartridges to the other, I will tell you the weight of the ham to an ounce.  To ascertain the time, I have already determined to fashion a sun-dial.  I remember the requisite divisions with reasonable accuracy, and a little observation will enable us to correct any mistakes.”

“You are really very clever, Mr. Jenks,” said Iris, with childlike candor.  “Have you spent several years of your life in preparing for residence on a desert island?”