"Friendly enough, girl, but we don't know what's happened since we were here before. Might have had forty revolutions. These fellows are always revolutin'.—Now, my men, stir round and beat out that fire! Reckon the crawlers are all killed or scattered. Come, men, stir your stumps! Do you hear me?"
The Skipper looked round at the men.
They were standing apart, conversing in low tones. They did not move at once.
"Isn't it exciting?" whispered Cynthia, her eyes shooting out light from the funnel. "Do you believe it's a mutiny? I hope it is. I never saw a mutiny. I believe they usually say: 'Now look a-here, Cap'n, we ain't a-goin' to stand this sort of thing! It's a-goin' to be share and share alike. There ain't no officers and there ain't no men. We're all equal on this here island.'"
I laughed.
"You must have read some very instructive books in your time, Miss Archer," I said.
"Yes, I have. I seem to know exactly what they are saying. Don't you think I understand pretty well how they conduct a mutiny?"
"Yes—in books," I said. I laughed, more to disabuse her mind than anything else. I remembered a very pretty mutiny a few years back. For weeks I never slept without seeing those men strung up to the yard-arm with not a moment in which to say a prayer. I thought this a good time to advance myself a little in her favour, and at the same time make her forget the loneliness of her situation. I saw that the Skipper seemed to be arguing with the sailors, and that he seemed to want no help from me.
"I wish that I could express to you, Miss Archer, how really beautiful I think you. The English language is feeble to convey all that——"
"When we get home, Mr. Jones," Cynthia broke in, "I will lend you a book which contains all the adjectives you could possibly need——"