"The leaf of the pitcher-plant. Nature is not always cruel. In an unusually generous mood she devised this method of storing water."
Miss Deane reached out her hand for more. Her troubled brain refused to wonder at such a reply from an ordinary seaman. The sailor deliberately spilled the contents of a remaining leaf on the sand.
"No, madam," he said, with an odd mixture of deference and firmness. "No more at present. I must first procure you some food."
She looked up at him in momentary silence.
"The ship is lost?" she said after a pause.
"Yes, madam."
"Are we the only people saved?"
"I fear so."
"Is this a desert island?"
"I think not, madam. It may, by chance, be temporarily uninhabited, but fishermen from China come to all these places to collect tortoise-shell and bêche-de-mer. I have seen no other living beings except ourselves; nevertheless, the islanders may live on the south side."