Mr. Phillips hauled a deck chair from the sunshine into the shade and stood leaning over the back of it.
“This island,” said Mr. Donovan, “seems likely to be restful. Once we’re through with the job of landing our trunks we shall be able to settle down and just stay put. I don’t say but it’s pleasant for a man like me who’s worked some in his time to sit here and watch other people sweating——”
He waved his hand towards the islanders, who staggered up the steps under their loads. He included with a sweeping gesture two boats which had just left the ship’s side. The day was exceedingly hot. All these men were certainly sweating. The clanking and rattling of the donkey engines were plainly audible across the water. The engineman was probably sweating too. Captain Wilson, standing erect in the full blaze of the sun on the steamer’s fore-deck, cannot possibly have been cool. Mr. Donovan sighed with satisfaction.
“I don’t deny that it’s pleasant,” he said, “kind of aggravates the sense of restfulness; but for real calm give me a country where nobody works at all. That’s what I am looking forward to. That’s why I reckon this island is going to suit me.”
“Mr. Donovan,” said Phillips, “there’s a matter I want to speak to you about. I daresay there’s nothing in it; but I can’t help feeling——”
Mr. Phillips’ hand went to his breast pocket. He clutched the torn envelope.
“Here’s something I picked up the day before yesterday,” he said.
Smith stepped suddenly between him and Mr. Donovan. Smith was a hard worker, and a loud shouter when shouting was desirable. He was also, as Phillips knew, a quiet mover when he chose. He held a tray in his hand with two glasses on it. He handed one to Mr. Donovan and the other to Phillips.
“Beg pardon, sir,” he said, “but there’s some cases of books come ashore, sir. I thought you’d like to arrange about them yourself, sir, seeing as how I don’t understand libraries.”