Martin Conisby

"If you can launch her she should sail well enough, going large and none so ill on a bowline, by her looks. 'Tis true scat-boat--yes. Are you a sailor--can ye navigate, ha?"

"Not I."

"'Tis very well, for I am, indeed, and can set ye course by dead reckoning an need be. Your work is likely enough, though had you butted your timbers it had been better--so and so!" And in this I saw she was right enough, and my work seemed more clumsy now than I had thought.

"I'm no shipwright," said I.

"And here's sure proof of it!" quoth she.

"Mayhap 'twill serve once her timbers be swelled."

"Aye, she may float, Martino, so long as the sea prove kind and the wind gentle; aye, she should carry us both over to the Main handsomely, yes--"

"Never!" quoth I, mighty determined.

"How then--will ye deny me yet, fool? Wherefore would ye leave me here, curst Englishman?"

"Lest you goad me into slaying you for the evil thing you are."

"What evil have I wrought you?"

"You would have poisoned me but yesterday--"

"Yet to-day are you strong and hearty, fool."

And indeed, now I came to think of it, I felt myself as hale and well as ever in all my life. "Tush--a fico!" says she with an evil gesture. "'Twas but an Indian herb, fool, and good 'gainst colic and calenture. Now wherefore will ye be quit o' me?"

"Because I had rather die solitary than live in your fellowship--"

"Dolt! Clod! Worm!" cried she 'twixt gnashing teeth, and then all in a moment she was gazing down at me soft and gentle-eyed, red lips up-curving and smooth cheek dimpling to a smile: "Ah, Martin," sighs she languorously, "see how you do vex me! And I am foolish to suffer such as you to anger me, but needs must I vex you a little in quittance, yes."

At this I did but shrug my shoulders and turned to study again the problem--how to set about launching my boat.

"Art a something skilful carpenter, eh, Martino," said she in a while; "'twas you made the table and chairs and beds in the caves up yonder, eh, Martino?"

"Aye."

"And these the tools you made 'em with, eh, Martino?" and she pointed where they lay beside the boat.

"Nay," quoth I, speaking on impulse, being yet busied with my problem, "I had nought but my hatchet then and chisels of iron."

"Your hatchet--this?" she questioned, taking it up.

"Aye!" I nodded. "The hatchet was the first tool I found after we were cast destitute on this island."

"Ah--ah--then she was with you when you found it--the woman that wore this gown before me, eh, Martino?"