“Well, well, ma’am; it is hard upon Mr.—­Rogers, did you tell me?  But we must not blame the Captain for taking precautions.  A very neat craft, Captain, and Jamaica-built, by the look of her.”

“We picked her up at Savannah-la-Mar,” announced Miss Belcher.

“After burning your boats, madam?  Pardon me, but I find your frankness as admirable as it is unexpected.  Moreover, though Captain Branscome deprecates it, no policy could be wiser.”

“I see no reason, sir, for being less than candid with you,” said Miss Belcher.  “You know whence we come end you know why we are here.  How we came is a trifling matter in comparison.”

“Believe me, ma’am, your frankness is all in your favour.  I may repeat what I told you yesterday, that several expeditions have come to this island seeking treasure; crews of merely avaricious men, mad with greed, whom I have made it my business to baffle. You, on the contrary, may almost count on my help; though whether the treasure will do you much good when you have found it is another question altogether.  But we are not treasure-seeking just now, and I shall grudge even the pleasure of talking if it steal your admiration from my island.”

The shore by which we steered was, indeed, entrancing, and grew yet more entrancing as we rounded Cape Fea and, downing sail, headed the gig for the north-east, pulling almost in the shadow of the cliffs; for the sea lay calm as a pond, and broke in feeblest ripples even on the beaches recessed here and there in the chasms.  We passed Try-again Inlet, and our wonder grew; for the cliffs now were mere cliffs no longer but the bases of a range of mountains, broken into rock slides with matted vines like curtains overhanging their scars; and in the water, ten fathoms deep below us, we could watch the coloured fishes at play.

Mr. Goodfellow and I were at the oars; and we had been pulling, as I judged, for something over an hour, but easily, for the tide could hardly be felt, when Dr. Beauregard, who had taken the tiller, steered us in towards a beach which he announced to be the, perhaps, very choicest in the island for a picnic.

Certainly it was a fairy-like spot, with white sand underfoot, green creepers overhanging, and through the creepers a rill of water splashing down the cliff; yet we had passed at least a dozen other beaches, which to me had looked no less inviting.

“We will leave the ladies to unpack the hampers,” said Dr. Beauregard.  “I speak as a bachelor, but in my experience there is a half-hour before lunch in which that man is best appreciated who makes himself scarce.  Captain Branscome, if you will not mind a short scramble over the rocks here, to the left, I can promise you something worth seeing.”

He led the way at once, and we followed, the Captain (who appeared to have lost his temper again) growling that he took no stock in views.  But the distance was not far.  We scrambled over two low ledges of rock and found ourselves looking down upon a beach even prettier and more fairy-like than the one we had left—­and upon something more—­a ship’s boat, drawn about thirty feet above high-water, and resting there on her side.