One problem defied solution—­that of providing raiment for Iris.  The united skill of the sailor and herself would not induce unraveled cordage to supply the need of thread.  It was either too weak or too knotty, and meanwhile the girl’s clothes were falling to pieces.  Jenks tried the fibers of trees, the sinews of birds—­every possible expedient he could hit upon—­and perhaps, after experiments covering some weeks, he might have succeeded.  But modern dress stuffs, weakened by aniline dyes and stiffened with Chinese clay, permit of no such exhaustive research.  It must be remembered that the lady passengers on board the Sirdar were dressed to suit the tropics, and the hard usage given by Iris to her scanty stock was never contemplated by the Manchester or Bradford looms responsible for the durability of the material.

As the days passed the position became irksome.  It even threatened complete callapse during some critical moment, and the two often silently surveyed the large number of merely male garments in their possession.  Of course, in the matter of coats and waistcoats there was no difficulty whatever.  Iris had long been wearing those portions of the doctor’s uniform.  But when it came to the rest—­

At last, one memorable morning, she crossed the Rubicon.  Jenks had climbed, as usual, to the Summit Rock.  He came back with the exciting news that he thought—­he could not be certain, but there were indications inspiring hopefulness—­that towards the west of the far-off island he could discern the smoke of a steamer.

Though he had eyes for a faint cloud of vapor at least fifty miles distant he saw nothing of a remarkable change effected nearer home.  Outwardly, Iris was attired in her wonted manner, but if her companion’s mind were not wholly monopolized by the bluish haze detected on the horizon, he must have noticed the turned-up ends of a pair of trousers beneath the hem of her tattered skirt.

It did occur to him that Iris received his momentous announcement with an odd air of hauteur, and it was passing strange she did not offer to accompany him when, after bolting his breakfast, he returned to the observatory.

He came back in an hour, and the lines on his face were deeper than before.

“A false alarm,” he said curtly in response to her questioning look.

And that was all, though she nerved herself to walk steadily past him on her way to the well.  This was disconcerting, even annoying to a positive young woman like Iris.  Resolving to end the ordeal, she stood rigidly before him.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve done it!”

“Have you?” he exclaimed, blankly.

“Yes.  They’re a little too long, and I feel very awkward, but they’re better than—­than my poor old dress unsupported.”

She blushed furiously, to the sailor’s complete bewilderment, but she bravely persevered and stretched out an unwilling foot.