‘Squid.’
‘I hope I do,’ I said fervently—‘I am sure I do.’
‘Such fun! I had to go in three times for him, and was washed off twice.’
‘I don’t quite understand.’
‘In the surf, you know. They cling to the rocks; and you have to catch them before the sea comes back and catches you.’
I remembered my dismal attempt to rule the waves the night before last, and was silent with humiliation.
She must have read my thoughts with her clear eye. ‘Oh, none of you can swim; and no wonder—you have such nice ships to swim for you. I must give you a few lessons. We will go right round the island—I will look after you. But not till you are stronger. Are you strong to-day?’ asked Victoria, with the tenderest solicitude, looking down on me as on a babe in its cot.
Upon my word, I thought she was going to offer to dress me. ‘As a lion,’ I returned, determined to resist this last indignity to the death.
‘Well, make haste, and get up,’ said Victoria, and she rose and walked out—no better enlightened as to the proprieties, I am afraid, than when she came in.
I was soon in the next room; and for some minutes I had it to myself. This gave me time to look round. It was a long chamber, with windows on one of the longer sides, or rather unglazed openings that might be closed with a shutter. On the opposite side were two beds in recesses facing the light, and screened by sliding panels that made each recess a tiny bed-chamber. Portholes in the wall above the beds would admit light when the panels were closed. They were not closed now; and the beds, with their coverlets of spotless tappa, formed no insignificant part of the furniture. It appeared to be the great common room of the house, serving all purposes by turns. My breakfast things, spread on a white cloth, stood on the table. There was a large clothes press in one corner, of home make, I should say, but still the work of a craftsman. An old-fashioned writing-desk, in another corner, was evidently from Europe. Floor, walls, and ceiling were of the yellow wood already noticed. There was no fireplace; but a well-stored bookcase hung over what might have been the mantel. In other respects, the place was like a cabinet of curiosities. There were articles of use or ornament that must have come out of the old scuttled ship, with others that were, as clearly, recent gifts from Europe. Some of the gifts were useful; a few would have been purely ornamental, even in the boudoir of a duchess. There was a good timepiece, side by side with a machine for moistening postage stamps. A copper tea-kettle divided the honours of a little sideboard with a miniature chest of drawers, in morocco leather, for the storage of cash—labelled ‘Gold,’ ‘Silver,’ ‘Notes,’ in letters richly embossed. A huge shoehorn in ivory, tapering to a button hook in polished steel, hung against the wall, near an old-fashioned native club. Kind-hearted people at home seemed to have had happy thoughts about the Pitcairn plunders while walking down Bond Street, and to have rushed into the first fancy-shop, and bought the first thing that came to hand. The islanders were none the worse for it; they had received these gifts as so much European fetich, and reverently laid them by, without attempting to discover their use.