English fiction -- 20th century; Humorous stories, English; Short stories, English
We gave up our seats to the ladies (even in a boat one should be
polite) and from a position in the stern waited with turned-up
coat-collars for the water to come on board.
"We might have sailed up a little higher," remarked Simpson. "It's
all right, I'm not a bit wet, thanks."
"It's too shallow, except at high tide," said Myra. "The Armadillo
would have gone aground and lost all her--her shell. Do armadilloes
have shells, or what?"
"Feathers."
"Well, we're a pretty good bank-holiday crowd for the dinghy," said
Archie. "Simpson, if we upset, save the milk and the sandwiches; my
wife can swim."
The woods were now beginning to come down to the river on both
sides, but on the right a grassy slope broke them at the water's
edge for some fifty yards. Thither we rowed, and after a little
complicated manoeuvring landed suddenly, Simpson, who was standing in
the bows with the boat-hook, being easily the first to reach the
shore. He got up quickly, however, apologized, and helped the ladies
and the hampers out. Thereafter he was busy for some time, making
the dinghy fast with a knot peculiarly his own.
"The first thing to do is to build a palisade to keep the savages
off," said Archie, and he stuck the boat-hook into the ground.
"After which you are requested to light fires to frighten the wild
beasts. The woodbines are very wild at this time of the year."
"We shall have to light a fire anyhow for the tea, so that will be
very useful," said the thoughtful Dahlia.
"I myself," I said, "will swim out to the wreck for the musket and
the bag of nails."
"As you're going," said Myra, unpacking, "you might get the sugar as
well. We've forgotten it."
"Now you've spoilt my whole holiday. It was bad enough with the cake
last week, but this is far, far worse. I shall go into the wood and
eat berries."
"It's all right, here it is. Now you're happy again. I wish, if you
aren't too busy, you'd go into the wood and collect sticks for the
fire."
"I am unusually busy," I said, "and there is a long queue of clients
waiting for me in the ante-room. An extremely long queue--almost a
half-butt in fact."
I wandered into the wood alone. Archie and Dahlia had gone
arm-in-arm up the hill to look at a view, Simpson was helping Myra
with the hampers, and Thomas, the latest arrival from town, was
lying on his back, telling them what he alleged to be a good story
now going round London. Myra told it to me afterwards, and we agreed
that as a boy it had gone round the world several times first. Yet I
heard her laugh unaffectedly--what angels women are!
Ten minutes later I returned with my spoil, and laid it before them.
"A piece of brown bread from the bread-fruit tree, a piece of
indiarubber from the mango tree, a chutney from the banana grove,
and an omelet from the turtle run, I missed the chutney with my
first barrel, and brought it down rather luckily with the ricochet."
"But how funny; they all look just like sticks of wood."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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