"I should think so, sir," said Pringle. "Now I come to think of it, sir, there was one or two cases on board the very identical of this. Food, sir, I should think—and perhaps other things. Washed ashore, sir—that's what this was."
"It doesn't seem to have been knocked about much," said Gilbert, walking round it curiously. "It's a frail sort of case to have been tossing about in the sea for so long a time. I hope the contents are not damaged."
"We'll hope not, sir," replied Pringle cheerfully, as he stooped to pick up the case. "Bit of luck I call this, sir," he added, as with the assistance of Simon Quarle he got it onto his shoulders. "Not that I'll promise anything about the contents, sir; it might be almost anything."
"Where exactly did it come ashore?" demanded Quarle.
"Just by the rocks, sir," said Pringle. "It was lucky, in a way, that I happened to be there, sir; what you might call a yard or two further on it would have missed the island altogether, and missed us. Great bit of luck, sir."
The case, on being wrenched open, was found to contain a considerable quantity of tinned food, together with some that was not tinned, and that was remarkably fresh. There were tins of biscuits; there was tea and sugar and other things, as wonderful in that place as they were unexpected. Pringle, for his part, was very modest about it all; he described again and again to the wondering people who presently seated themselves about the fire exactly how the considerate sea had tossed the case at his very feet, and how he had picked it up.
Mrs. Ewart-Crane, relieved from the fear that her life might be in danger, made some advances to Mrs. Stocker, and even consented to listen with gravity to an account by that lady of the difficulties of rearing chickens in the neighbourhood of Clapham; "there was something in the air," according to Mrs. Stocker.
In a sense it may be said that among some of them at least a better feeling of comradeship sprang up. The fear of actual starvation was gone; the weather was superb, and they were all in excellent bodily health. It grew to be a sort of great picnic on the island, and those who had been at first inclined to grumble were now in a minority, and began to feel that for their own sakes they had best take what the gods sent them with an approach to smiling faces. Perhaps for the change Bessie Meggison was in a sense directly responsible; because that new happiness that had come to her had painted even this small and uncomfortable world in rosy colours.
There grew to be a sort of competition among them as to who should discover the next bit of wreckage to be cast ashore. Mr. Meggison visited the neighbourhood of the rocks more than once, and peered frowningly out to sea; but he never discovered anything. Aubrey Meggison listlessly wandered round the shore—perhaps in the hope of finding something of actual use to himself; but he was as unsuccessful as his father. It came at last to this: that the only one of them all to do any real salvage work was Pringle. At intervals Pringle was able to bring to them the most astonishing things that had been washed ashore conveniently for his picking up.
Strangely, too, the things he found were always useful. It was no mere matter of broken woodwork, such as might be expected to come from the wrecked yacht; again and again he discovered in the most miraculous way articles for which a wish had actually been expressed by some member of the community. Food tumbled upon the shore almost in abundance; and always food that was wanted. The various articles that had been in use on the yacht must have been curiously packed; for tinned foods actually arrived more than once accompanied by articles of clothing that were distinctly useful to the shipwrecked party.