Peggy and Willie had described all their picnic that evening at dinner to Johnnie, and Johnnie sighed because he hadn’t been there.
The friendship between the savages and the whites soon ripened into something very real and lasting.
The king gladly gave his people permission to build a fort for the Wanderers, and they worked so hard under Stransom’s supervision that it was soon completed. It was erected close to the wood, and was to all intents and purposes impregnable.
In boats, round from the creek, all provisions and everything of value was brought. The Vulture, indeed, was now dismantled, for she had begun to leak again.
About a month after our heroes had settled down in their strange wild home, a cyclone swept over the island; so terrible was its force, that trees were torn up by the roots and carried high into the air. The sea rose and threatened to sap the very foundations of the fort, and hundreds of the native huts were scattered about like so much hay.
Next day all was calm again, and the savages quietly commenced to rebuild their huts. But the Vulture had sunk at her moorings. Well was it for our people that they had left her in time.
* * * * *
Long months passed with no signs of deliverance from this beautiful island-life, which was, after all, but exile; and Fitzroy and Stransom were now the greatest of friends with the savages, and really nothing else save friendship and love ruled the place.
Yes, they were cannibals, but what one eats is merely a matter of taste, and I have known many respectable cannibals, though I never accepted the invitations to dinner they sent me. Her majesty the fat queen had somehow disappeared.
“Haven’t seen her majesty of late,” said Stransom, one day, to the king.