“You will excuse my having brought a musket.  You have brought your own, I see.  Quite right.  I carry it habitually; for, to tell you the truth, the island contains a few wild boars who dispute possession with me.  A very few—­we are not likely to meet with one, so the ladies may reassure themselves!  But, as I was about to say, with the Captain’s permission we will not unload here.  Rather, after visiting the waterfall, I would suggest that we row round to the eastern side, where, if I may guide you, you will find choice of a dozen delightful spots for a picnic.  In this way, too, we shall cover more ground and get a more general view of the beauties of the island, which, as I dare say my friend Harry discovered yesterday, is somewhat too thickly overgrown for easy travelling.”

The man’s manner—­at once frank, chatty, and easily polite—­ completely disconcerted me, and I could see it disconcerted the Captain.  It seemed to reduce the whole expedition to an ordinary picnic; and (more astonishing yet) the ladies accepted it for that.  They fell in, one on each side of him, as he led the way to the waterfall, and for a climax Miss Belcher shook out a parasol which she had been carrying under her arm and spread it above her beaver hat!

At the waterfall our host surpassed himself.  The landscape hereabouts (he declared) always reminded him of Nicholas Poussin.  He would like Miss Plinlimmon’s opinion on the rock-drawing of Salvator Rosa, a painter whom he gently depreciated.  Had Miss Plinlimmon ever visited the Apennines?  He plucked a few of the ferns growing in the spray and discoursed on them, comparing them with the common European polypody.  He turned to music, and challenged his fair visitors to guess the note made by the falling water:  it hummed on E natural, rising now and then by something less than a semitone.

With all this it was not easy to suspect him of acting, as it was next to impossible to mistake him for a trifler.  His tall figure, his carriage, the fine pose of his head, his resonant manly voice, all forbade it, no less than did the wild scenery to which he drew our attention with an easy proprietary wave of the hand.  I observed that Captain Branscome listened to him with a puzzled frown.

The waterfall having been duly admired, we retraced our steps to the shore.  The gig carried a small mast and lugsail, and, the faint wind blowing fair down the creek, the Captain suggested our hoisting them.  I think it annoyed him to find himself appealing to Dr. Beauregard.

“By all means,” said the Doctor, affably.  “It will save labour till we reach open water, when I will ask you to lower them.  We had best use the paddles after rounding the point to eastward, and keep close inshore.  I have my reasons for recommending this—­reasons which I shall be happy to explain to you, sir, at the proper time.”  Here he bowed to Captain Branscome.

Accordingly we hoisted sail, and in a few minutes opened the view of the lower reach, with the Espriella swinging softly at her cables, her masts reflected on the scarcely rippled water.  Miss Belcher broke into a laugh at sight of Mr. Rogers wistfully eyeing us from the deck.  Dr. Beauregard echoed it, just audibly.