OUR SERIAL STORY

Thames Star, Volume LXV, Issue 18243, 17 July 1931, Page 4

OUR SERIAL STORY

"HIS ISLAND PRINCESS.'

BY W. CLARK RUSSELL. .

CHAPTER VII

EULALIE'S BOWER,

As I have pictured as best I could my two companions, I will here attempt a portrait of myself. I was twenty-four years of age, rising five feet eleven in my socks, fair of skin, but muck burnt through exposure to the weather, hair neither sandy nor red, but a something between, the eyebrows very dark and marked, and the eyes the dark blue that is not uncommon in the Irish. My teeth were white and regular, my features defined and well shaped, and, on the whole, I believe I should have passed with most as a very comely, likely young fellow. My dress when 1 left the Bedford, whifch indeed, was the only attire I now possessed in the wide world, consisted of flowing striped nankeen trousers, much in favour amongst young mariners of that period, a eamblet jacket, a belt with a brass clasp, a shirt, and silk handkerchief tied loosely round the coiiar, a straw nat, socks and snoes. When we reached tne house iiiuiane says to me:

"Wjtil you help me to remove the disnes and prepare tne dinner <•" "1 will with pleasure," i answered. "Can you eoon.1" she asked.

"1 believe 1 could broil a steak oi a chop at a pinch," says 1. "jyir ia Touehe," here broke in Uaptain Bcott in his grave way, "you will uo nothing unless you have a mind to. You are our guest." J. thanked him warmly, but told h.au that nothing would give me so much happiness as to help his daughter and do whatever I could to be of service while I stayed. When I spoke the words "whilst I stayed" 1 looked at the girl, and her return glance lnethought reproached me.

Though fiery hot in the sun, 'twas cold in the.house; the open windows allowed the breeze to blow clean through, and. the atmosphere was in perpetual motion as though set travelling by fans, and it was charged wuAh the choice smells of the land, the concert of the birds, and the summer sound of breaking water on the beach.

We left Captain Scott to put away the hams, cheeses, and lumps of beef, and. entered the great room or dining-hail where stood the remains of the feast I had quitted to go with the others to the boat. The first thing the girl did was to take off her hat and let down her hair, wbjifch fell in waves of dark bronze halfway upon her back. This was a habit in her, and no trick of coquetry, as I right well knew, for nothing is easier for a girl than to make a man feel that her behaviour has regard to him, that what she does, even in the most apparently careless and off-hand manner, is meant for him, to appear as an attraction in htfe sight, as another waft

of the nosegay to shed another little cloud of perfume. As I watched her letting down her beautiful hair, I wondered to myself what sort of a figure would she make if I took her into company in England? Ido not, of course, mean in the South Sea garb in which she was now apparelled. The immediate task she put me to was to fetch her water. I pulled off my jacket and turned up my sleeves, determined that, .-If I could shine in her eyes by no better quali-, ties, I should not want merit as a scullion. As I passed out of the house I found Captain Scott in the ante-room holding up a ham and admiring it. It was strange to see a king of Great BritaAn thus occupied. But it had been affirmed that monarchs have diverted themselves by occupations smaller and even meaner than admiring hams. As I passed him he says: "I am looking forward to a dish of this. It is strange how memory is yoked to flavour, and how the palate will recall the past."

I smiled w/ithout answer and went into the sunshine, hoping" the flavour of the ham and the memories conjured up by the cheese would dispossess the gracious but unhappy man of the melancholy fiend of solitude that held him, and rescue his daughter from a fate that might be dreaded, but could forecast, by determint'aig him to return with hereto the world and eMlisation.

My spirits were blithe; I walked with a free step. It was amazing how swiftly Nature had recovered me from the dangerous dying condition I was in but yesterday. I had observed when I shaved myself that no other marks had been made upon me by my sufferings than a little hollow darkness under the eyes, which would quickly pass, and an ashen complexion that sifted into the natural ruddiness of my cheeks, but which I doubt not had already disappeared.

I filled the vessels I took at the little river I had washed in, pausing once again to admire the scene of the island, the frowning prospect of volcanic mountain, the swelling lands uprearing in all directions their groves of foliaged giants, and nothing pleased me more than the silver sparkling of the waterfall pouring its polished Curve over the green edge, and veiling He foo' white haze where it smote the water of the river. (To be continued).