The two boatmen hurried away, and De Sylva placed his lips close to
Philip's ear.
"What went wrong?" he asked.
"Iris--Miss Yorke--fainted," was the gasping reply.
"Ah. You had to carry her?"
"Yes."
De Sylva fumbled in a pocket. He produced a flask.
"Here is some brandy. I kept it for just such an extremity. We cannot
have you breaking down. Drink!"
Two weary hours elapsed before the little army of the Grand-pere Rock
was reunited on the shore of Cotton-Tree Bay. Then there was a further
delay, while their indefatigable scouts brought milk and water, some
coarse bread, and a good supply of fruit from the hut. It was part of
their scheme that they should give their friend's habitation a wide
berth. If their plans miscarried he was instructed to say that he had
found the English lady wandering on the shore soon after daybreak. In
any event, there would be no evidence that he had entertained the
invaders in his hovel; otherwise, he would lose the first-class badge
that permitted him, a convict, to dwell apart with his wife and
daughter.
It was with the utmost difficulty that the men could be restrained from
expressing their delight when they were given water and milk to drink.
The water was poor, brackish stuff; the milk was sour and had lost
every particle of cream; yet they deemed each a nectar of rank, and
even the miserable Watts, who had long ago ascertained that the
rustlings in the herbage were caused by countless numbers of rats and
mice, was ready to acclaim beverages which he was too apt to despise.
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