CHAP. PAGE
I.My Apology[1]
II.Lancelot Amber[7]
III.The Alehouse by the River[15]
IV.A Maid Called Barbara[29]
V.Lancelot Leaves[38]
VI.The Gentleman in Blue[54]
VII.Captain Marmaduke’s Plan[62]
VIII.The Company at the Noble Rose[68]
IX.The Talk in the Dolphin[72]
X.She Comes Down the Stairs[81]
XI.A Feast of the Gods[87]
XII.Mr. Davies’s Gifts[91]
XIII.To the Sea[100]
XIV.The Sea Life[105]
XV.Utopia Ho![113]
XVI.I Make a Discovery[117]
XVII.A Visitation[126]
XVIII.The Night and Morning[134]
XIX.How Some of us Got to the Island[145]
XX.A Bad Night[155]
XXI.Rafts[163]
XXII.We Lose Cornelys Jensen[168]
XXIII.We Get to the Island[179]
XXIV.Fair Island[190]
XXV.The Story from the Sea[205]
XXVI.The Business Begins[214]
XXVII.An Ill Tale[232]
XXVIII.We Defy Jensen[241]
XXIX.The Attack at Last[249]
XXX.Our Flag Comes Down[261]
XXXI.A Piece of Diplomacy[268]
XXXII.The Sea Gives Up its Quick[280]
XXXIII.The Last of the Ship[290]

MARJORIE

CHAPTER I

MY APOLOGY

What I have written may seem to some, who have never tossed an hour on salt water, nor, indeed, tramped far afield on dry land, to be astounding, and well-nigh beyond belief. But it is all true none the less, though I found it easier to live through than to set down. I believe that nothing is harder than to tell a plain tale plainly and with precision. Twenty times since I began this narrative I have damned ink and paper heartily after the swearing fashion of the sea, and have wished myself back again in my perils rather than have to write about them.

I was born in Sendennis, in Sussex, and my earliest memories are full of the sound and colour and smell of the sea. It was above all things my parents’ wish that I should live a landsman’s life. But I was mad for the sea from the first days that I can call to mind.

My parents were people of substance in a way—did well with a mercer’s shop in the Main Street, and were much looked up to by their neighbours. My mother always would have it that I came through my father of gentle lineage. Indeed, the name I bore, the name of Crowninshield, was not the kind of name that one associates usually with a mercer’s business and with the path in life along which my father and mother walked with content. There certainly had been old families of Crowninshields in Sussex and elsewhere, and some of them had bustled in the big wars. There may be plenty of Crowninshields still left for aught I know or care, for I never troubled my head much about my possible ancestors who carried on a field gules an Eastern crown or. I may confess, however, that in later years, when my fortune had bettered, I assumed those armes parlantes, if only as a brave device wherewith to seal a letter. Anyway, Crowninshield is my name, with Raphael prefixed, a name my mother fell upon in conning her Bible for a holiname for me. So, if my arms are but canting heraldry, I carry the name of an archangel to better them.