THE party went through the garden out into the wood, where a crowd of islanders stood patiently waiting for them to come. When they appeared a murmur of interest rippled among the crowd. Mothers lifted up their children to see the sight; young persons giggled to one another because of the strangers’ unconventional attire.
Mr. Smith raised a firm hand, motioning them all back.
“No crowding,” he commanded. “I am conducting our guests to the shore, to see the news. Make way, if you please.”
The crowd followed them down to the shore; perhaps they all wanted to see the news.
Rosamond, walking a little behind the rest, looked round for Flora, and saw her slipping away, her arm in a girl friend’s. Rosamond had a little envious pang. If she had been Flora’s friend! But what was she, to be the friend of radiant Flora? Flora would never do more than fling her an occasional word or glance, and pass on to her own friends. To be loved by Flora—what felicity! But did Flora, loved, surely, by all, really love any one? Was it in Flora’s heart to love?
They came down out of the wood on to the shore again, and on the smooth, damp stretch of sand near the sea’s edge two men were busily writing with sharp sticks, at the dictation of a third, who threw a sentence or phrase now at one, now at the other. What was already written was large and legible, in clear round letters, and laid out in separate paragraphs, each with its own heading.
“Amazing Occurrence this Afternoon,” the largest paragraph was headed. “Landing of Strangers.” It went on, “Early this afternoon a more amazing event occurred than has ever before been known in our country. A large vessel was seen on the horizon, and was observed to be approaching our shores. When it was arrived at the reef, it stopped, and a boat put forth from it, containing several persons, who presently landed on the island. They proved to be a party of six, a Mr. Thinkwell, his daughter and two sons, a Captain Paul, who owned the ship, and a Mr. Merton. Great excitement was naturally caused by this unprecedented event, and there were amazing scenes as most of the population assembled on the shore to watch the landing and to inspect the newcomers, who were dressed in some white material. The young lady of the party wore a thin white gown and a white hat, and had fair hair cut short on the neck after our fashion of fifteen years ago or so. It was thought at first that they must be missionaries, but it was gathered that this was not the case, but that they were a party who had sailed from England with the object of removing us from the island, having learnt of our whereabouts in some manner as yet unknown to the press, who have not yet had an opportunity of interviewing any of the party. The keenest interest is felt in the newcomers, who were shortly conducted by Mr. Albert Edward Smith to his house, the Yams, for refreshment. The party was followed up to the house by a considerable crowd, among whom were many well-dressed women.”
Parallel with this column, there were other items of news—a paragraph on the weather, reports of the convictions of various persons arrested for trespassing or theft, and, in a prominent position and large letters, “Health of Miss Smith. Miss Smith has to-day been feeling the heat a little, and has not yet been out. Doctor Brown reports, however, that she is taking her meals well and that there is no cause for anxiety.” Next to this was “Resumed Trial of True-Heart Jenkins. Amazing Statements. The trial of True-Heart Jenkins for the murder of her husband by poison berries was resumed this morning. There were many well-dressed women present. The prisoner was smartly dressed in bark, with broad hat of plaited palm trimmed with pink feathers, and white coral necklace and ear-rings. Testimony was given by Hindley Green, aged eight, whom Jenkins had desired to pick the berries for her a few days before her husband’s death. Jenkins told the boy that the berries were for a hat wreath. Testimony was given by Sally Wilson, the girl who worked for Jenkins, that the berries had been crushed up for jam. Doctor Brown stated that Adolphus Jenkins had certainly died of the jam. Testimony was given by many witnesses that prisoner and deceased had not lived in harmony of late. The jury gave a verdict of guilty, and the judge (Mr. James Smith) sentenced the unfortunate and misguided female to be drowned, which will be done on Monday morning.”
“A most unfortunate incident,” Mr. Albert Smith commented.
“So,” said Mr. Thinkwell, “you have trial by jury here—that odd old Saxon custom.”
“To be sure we have, my dear sir. My mother instructed us from the first in British institutions. We have them all.”
“Did his mother instruct them in journalese too?” Charles whispered. “The amazing scenes, the well-dressed women, and all the rest of it? Or did it just grow? After all, why not here as well as with us?”
“It’s a natural enough style,” said Mr. Merton, for so, indeed, it seemed to him. “Nothing odd about that. How else should one report news?”
William prodded Charles with his elbow. “Listen to this, Charles. Charles, we must listen to this.”
The gentleman dictating the news, a small, plump, globular person with a brick-red face and a green cigar in his mouth, was in the middle of the Political Intelligence. This was too complicated for the strangers wholly to grasp. It seemed that there was trouble in Hibernia—(“Hibernia?” queried Mr. Thinkwell. Mr. Smith indicated the adjacent and smaller peninsula of the island. “My father named it that,” he said. “We have had a good deal of trouble with it from time to time. Malcontents have always made it their abode; particularly since the insurrection of 1910. The insurrectionists were put down, of course, but there is still a sad amount of disloyalty.”)—Trouble, then, in Hibernia; and trouble, too, in politics; a great fracas, in fact, in Parliament, between one party and another. It seemed that one party was in favour of the sending forth of boats on a voyage of exploration, and the other parties were not.
“That has always been in dispute among us,” said Mr. Smith. “From time to time such an expedition has gone forth, but has never got far. We have no adequate equipment for such adventures. But there has always been a Forward Party, in favour of that and other wild schemes. Fortunately, they have never been in power.”
Mr. Thinkwell signed to him, donnishly, with his hand, to stop talking, for he desired to listen to the news. It seemed that there had been more trouble still, made by a group of discontented people who appeared to be holding meetings with a view to subverting the constitution and redistributing the land.
“Foolish fellows,” said Mr. Smith, and his stern, cold expression was repeated on the faces of a good many of those who stood by. “Always some mad scheme. They chatter like the monkeys, and are for ever quarrelling with the laws of God and man. The land, of course, all belongs to Us. We rent it out and keep it well cultivated, for the good of the community.”
“I see you are good Tories here,” said Mr. Thinkwell.
“Tories? That is the good political party in Great Britain, isn’t it? My mother has told us——”
“As to good—well, that’s a matter of taste. I suppose they are no worse than any other party, and not even, I dare say, more stupid.”
“Ah. Your political parties are all like that, then—on a low level.”
“They are human, sir. Yours too, no doubt.”
“With us,” said Mr. Albert Edward Smith, “there is, on every question, a right side and a wrong. Some of us are habitually on one side, some on the other. It is a question, largely, of birth and breeding. Partly, also, of course, of age, wisdom, and experience. We have our young hotheads, even among Ourselves.” His glance fell on a group of young people standing a little way off, among whom was his daughter Flora and a youth sufficiently like her in feature to be supposed by Mr. Thinkwell to be her brother.
The news editor was still dictating. He had got now to social and personal news, and interesting items of information about this person and that were announced and written down. Two persons had been married; another pair had had twins; some one else had been devoured by a shark; Mr. and Mrs. Smith-Carter had given a reception at which many elegantly dressed persons had been present and the food had been delicious. Finally, “Mr. Heathcliff Smith, addressing an audience this morning on the land question, said …”
Mr. Albert Edward Smith stepped forward, with raised hand. “That will do. Erase, if you please.”
The reporter erased; the dictator cleared his throat and changed the subject. He said instead, “Girl’s amazing leap from tree saves young monkey’s life.”
“Mussolini,” said Charles Thinkwell, addressing Mr. Smith.
“I beg your pardon?” said Mr. Smith.
“I was merely noting,” said Charles, “that your methods with the press resemble those of the present ruler of Italy.”
Mr. Smith inclined his head, not displeased. But gloom still lay on his brow, following the reference to Mr. Heathcliff Smith.
It seemed to Rosamond, who was looking often at the group of young people round Flora, that the youth who must be her brother was sneering a little, and looking defiantly towards his father. Perhaps that was Mr. Heathcliff Smith.
Rosamond wished that she could go up to this group and ask them to show her round the island. She was tired of this stupid newspaper, which was hardly more amusing than all the stupid newspapers at home.
“Very funny,” Captain Paul was saying. “Damn funny, isn’t it. Just like the silly things our papers say. Damn amusing.” He, like Mr. Merton, had drunk just enough fermented liquor.
Rosamond, hearing him speak, remembered that only that morning she had felt towards him a thrilling kind of admiration and hero-worship, that had made her excited when he spoke to her or looked at her. Now the thrill was abated, swooned away, as it were, on the languishing island air. Was it merely that, on the island, he was no longer the captain, the chief? In that case, she thought, in that case she should have transferred her admiration to Mr. Albert Smith—or to the unseen Miss Smith lurking in the background. Or was it rather that, once you had seen Flora Smith, no one else counted very much? Such grace was hers, such mocking beauty and such pride … a mountain panther could not touch her for the kind of wild, disdainful elegance she had.