This house was on the far side of the island, and because of its exposed position no other dwelling was within two miles of it. It was a successful experiment, but no one lived in it now. I guess the Conchs preferred their wooden shacks or else someone was asking a high rent.
“Your shack, eh?” I said, looking at the place. “Some shack.”
Miss Wonderly clasped her hands behind her back, and raised herself on her toes. She admired the house.
“I only caught a glimpse of it from a boat,” she said. “I was told no one lived in it. I didn’t think it was as good as this.”
“Let’s try and get in,” I said.
It wasn’t easy, and in the end I had to shoot off the lock of the front door. The place was dirty and as hot as an oven, but after opening all the windows the air got better.
“We can make this pretty comfortable,” I said, “and it’s safe. Let’s have a look around.”
I found a small harbour that had been built while the house was under construction. Mangroves had overgrown it, and it was practically invisible. I only came upon it by nearly falling down the ramp that had been covered with dead foliage.
“This is terrific,” I said, after I’d cleared away the undergrowth. “We’ll get the boat round here and settle in. Come on, let’s go.”
As I steered the boat around the island, I came upon the village community dumped down on the east shore. There were three or four ketches moored to the sea wall, a dozen or so wooden shacks and a big wooden building that looked like a store.