‘When Cloete’s garrison was withdrawn, Glass was left as a volunteer in charge of a wreck and some military stores. That was in ’24. Two seamen of the St. Helena squadron settled on the island with him. You know, of course, that Tristan was occupied by a detachment of our artillery while Bonaparte was at St. Helena?’ ‘Where did they find wives?’ said the mate. ‘Glass brought a mulatto woman from the Cape; the other settlers got negresses from St. Helena. The population was about forty when I was there; though some of the women are well-built and handsome, their complexions run from milk to chocolate.’ ‘Suppose the convicts steer foul of the island,’ said Will. ‘Any houses?’ said the mate. ‘Cottages. They build them with blocks of lava.’ ‘What’s to eat there?’ inquired the mate, who listened with a sober face of interest. ‘I can’t tell off-hand; fish and potatoes, I know; there’s a little fruit; they grow crops, and Glass told me of a number of wild goats and spoke of so many heads of cattle belonging to some of the people, along with poultry and pigs.’ ‘We shan’t starve,’ said I, laughing. ‘There’s over eight thousand feet high of rock for me to hide under, Marian; and away down in the mightiest of all ocean solitudes too--’twixt the two Capes--and the climate’s delicious.’ ‘Who’ll cash cheques there for you, Marian?’ said Will. ‘Tom,’ said I, ‘one question I’ll ask--what’ll be your story to the Governor Glass?’ ‘Ay,’ said he, ‘that’ll be for you and me to think out. Bates, there may be fifty respectable reasons why a man should loathe what’s called his native country and expatriate himself. Or call it a whim. My wife and I,’ said he, fondling my hand and faintly smiling as he looked at me, ‘have a mind to live in mid-ocean. Whose business but ours is that? I’ve lost my ship. I’m a broken-hearted bankrupt. Who’ll give me the lie? My brave girl loves me, and nothing must separate us. And so, Governor Glass, I say, with your good leave, I’ll sail away and get married, and come back to you with my bride. Eh!’ he cried, looking eagerly and hotly from Bates to Will. ‘There’s no lie there, I believe?’ ‘Why, sir, you have the yarn!’ exclaimed my cousin. ‘Johnstone spoke of cashing a cheque at Tristan,’ said Bates, with a grin, which vanished in an earnest look. ‘I shall get home, I hope, and if I can be of the least use----’ ‘Oh, thank ye, Bates; thank ye,’ interrupted Tom. ‘We’re bound to go to civilisation to get married, you know, and there’ll be Miss Johnstone’s opportunity for making the arrangements she may think proper.’ The mate gravely bowed his head. ‘Marian, get to your cabin, dearest, and rest,’ said Tom. He rose, and I rose instantly with him. He took me by the hand, and we entered the berth he had bid me use. He tossed the bedding out of the bunk, leaving the mattress, which was new and clean. ‘Sleep, dear one,’ said he. ‘God knows you need it.’