"She is not here now," said the mother. And this piece of unnecessary information was given in tones which might indicate that the young lady had stepped around to visit a neighbour.
"It is important," said the man, "that I should know if vessels have anchored here, for if they be merchantmen I sometimes do business with them."
"Business!" said Dickory. "That sounds extremely odd. Pray tell me how you came to be here."
"My name is Mander," said the other, "and about two years ago I was on my way from England to Barbadoes, where, with my wife and two girls, I expected to settle. We were captured by a pirate ship and marooned upon this island. I will say, to the pirate captain's credit, that he was a good sort of man considering his profession. He sailed across the bay on purpose to find a suitable place to land us, and he left with us some necessary articles, such as axes and tools, kitchen utensils, and a gun with some ammunition. Then he sailed away, leaving us here, and here we have since lived. Under the circumstances, we have no right to complain, for had we been taken by an ordinary pirate it is likely that our bones would now be lying at the bottom of the ocean.
"Here I have worked hard and have made myself a home, such as it is. There are wild cattle upon the distant savannas, and I trap game and birds, cultivate the soil to a certain extent, and if we had clothes I might say we would be in better circumstances than many a respectable family in England. Sometimes when a merchantman anchors here and I have hides or anything else which we can barter for things we need, I row over the bay in a canoe which I have made, and have thus very much bettered our condition. But in no case have I been able to provide my family with suitable clothes."
"Why did you not get some of these merchant ships to carry you away?" asked Dickory.
The man shook his head. "There is no place," he said sadly, "to which I can in reason ask a ship to carry me and my family. We have no money, no property whatever. In any other place I would be far poorer than I am here. My children are not uneducated; my wife and I have done our best for them in that respect, and we have some books with us. So, as you see, it would be rash in me to leave a home which, rude as it is, shelters and supports my family, to go as paupers and strangers to some other land."
The wife heaved a sigh. "But poor Lucilla!" she said. "It is dreadful that she should be forced to grow up here."
"Lucilla?" asked Dickory.
"Yes, sir," she said, "my eldest daughter. But she is not here now."