“Oh, why did you do that?” pouted Iris.  “Poor thing! it was a true friend in need.  I wish I could do something for it to make it the best and leafiest plant of its kind on the island.”

“Very well!” he answered; “you can gratify your wish.  A tinful of fresh water from the well, applied daily to its roots, will quickly achieve that end.”

The moroseness of his tone and manner surprised her.  For once her quick intuition failed to divine the source of his irritation.

“You give your advice ungraciously,” she said, “but I will adopt it nevertheless.”

A harmless incident, a kindly and quite feminine resolve, yet big with fate for both of them.

Jenks’s unwonted ill-humor—­for the passage of days had driven from his face all its harshness, and from his tongue all its assumed bitterness—­created a passing cloud until the physical exertion of scrambling over the rocks to round the North Cape restored their normal relations.

A strong current raced by this point to the south-east, and tore away the outlying spur of the headland to such an extent that the sailor was almost inclined to choose the easier way through the trees.  Yet he persevered, and it may be confessed that the opportunities thus afforded of grasping the girl’s arm, of placing a steadying hand on her shoulder, were dominant factors in determining his choice.

At last they reached the south side, and here they at once found themselves in a delightfully secluded and tiny bay, sandy, tree-lined, sheltered on three sides by cliffs and rocks.

“Oh,” cried Iris, excitedly, “what a lovely spot! a perfect Smugglers’ Cove.”

“Charming enough to look at,” was the answering comment, “but open to the sea.  If you look at the smooth riband of water out there, you will perceive a passage through the reef.  A great place for sharks, Miss Deane, but no place for bathers.”

“Good gracious!  I had forgotten the sharks.  I suppose they must live, horrid as they are, but I don’t want them to dine on me.”

The mention of such disagreeable adjuncts to life on the island no longer terrified her.  Thus do English new-comers to India pass the first three months’ residence in the country in momentary terror of snakes, and the remaining thirty years in complete forgetfulness of them.

They passed on.  Whilst traversing the coral-strewn south beach, with its patches of white soft sand baking in the direct rays of the sun, Jenks perceived traces of the turtle which swarmed in the neighboring sea.

“Delicious eggs and turtle soup!” he announced when Iris asked him why he was so intently studying certain marks on the sand, caused by the great sea-tortoise during their nocturnal visits to the breeding-ground.

“If they are green turtle,” he continued, “we are in the lap of luxury.  They lard the alderman and inspire the poet.  When a ship comes to our assistance I will persuade the captain to freight the vessel with them and make my fortune.”