The master supposed he meant some other place. The honey-bees and the
rabbits might make out a good night’s rest in Berhou, but there were no
lodgings for Christians. Stephen knew better; and knew, moreover, that
the master might feel well enough pleased at being spared performing his
promise as to Alderney, to land the party, without objection, in a more
practicable place. This was true. The master had not the least objection
to their supping with the rabbits, and sleeping among the sea-fowl, if
they chose. Moreover, if they found themselves starving by the time he
came back that way, he would toss them some biscuit, if they would only
hoist a flag of distress. Stephen did not care a whit for the master’s
mockery of his plans, or for Mrs. Le Brocq’s complaints at being landed
any where so far from her Louise. He showed so much respect to Anna’s
doubtful looks and words as to assure her that he knew what he was
about, and that no delay would arise from his choice of an uninhabited
island for a temporary resting place. Anna had no choice but to trust
him; but a feeling of forlornness came over her when, having landed the
old lady, and seated her on the sands to recover her breath and dry her
tears, she and Stephen stood to see the vessel recede in the strait, and
at length enter the open sea beyond, leaving them out of reach of human
voice and help.
“Could that bell be heard here from Alderney if the sea was quiet?” she
asked.
“I dare say it might; but this sea is never quiet,” he replied. “Day and
night, summer and winter, it plunges and boils as you see. You are
thinking that the sound of a church-bell would be cheering in this
solitude; but yonder bell keeps its music for the folks on its own
island; and a merry set they will be to-night on the south side,
watching the tide going down towards morning, that they may begin the
vraicking.”
“And what are we to do next?” asked Anna, with a touch of the doleful in
her voice which seemed to amuse Stephen.
“Catch Mother Carey’s chickens, and run after rabbits, to be sure. You
know there is nothing else to live upon here. We shall have a merry life
of it, shall not we?”
“I wish you would answer me, Stephen. My mother cannot bear joking. What
are we to do next?”
“You must watch for the lighting of the Caskets, and eat a biscuit in
the meantime.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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