At first the shock of the tragedy seemed to stun Loyola's overstrained senses, but gradually, as the lazy, uneventful days passed, the memory of all the late horrors wore off, and a great hope of future happiness in Jack's arms filled her heart.
She began to pick up spirits and show more of that sunny disposition, with its infectious gaiety, which had been such a feature of her character before her unfortunate marriage.
At times a snatch of song would burst from her lips, which caused a smile of satisfaction to flit over the faces of the castaways, and she owned a devoted slave in each one of them.
"My, boys! but she's good gear!" commented Bill enthusiastically, one lazy afternoon, indicating Loyola with his pipe as he reclined under the cocoa-palms.
She and Jack, deep in talk, were pacing up and down the beach, hand in hand, for such was their custom on account of the latter's blindness.
She was telling him all the Island news, of new schooners, new stations, and new captains: of how old So-and-so had taken a new native wife, and Jack Bounce had been called down and thrashed by a new chum; of the stranding of the Wee Willie whilst Cap'n Ben was locked in his cabin killing imaginary snakes, and how the new trader on Pleasant Island had got a forty-four Colt bullet through the back from Nigger Bill, as a gentle hint to clear out; that Billy Cæsar, a noted chief in the Hebrides, had been wearing out his teeth on tough missionary again; how the blackbirder May Allen had lost a boat and her new recruiter in the Louisiade Archipelago, and numerous other small bits of South Sea gossip.
"She's shore a peach!" assented Broncho to the bluejacket's remark.
"Don't she smile be-e-autiful?" chimed in Jim, with an awestruck voice of admiration. "Lor, but she's a fine lady!"
"You can see that stickin' out a foot," agreed Bill Benson. "She'll 'ave a gunny-sack o' dibs too, bein' 'Awksley's widder. 'Eavens! but she is 'traps,'" and he turned up his eyes expressively.