"The Little People lit the fire for me," cried Maloney, looking natural
and at home in his ancient flannel suit and breaking off in the middle
of his singing, "so I've got the porridge going--and this time it's
_not_ burnt." We reported the discovery of water and held up the fish. "Good! Good again!" he cried. "We'll have the first decent breakfast
we've had this year. Sangree'll clean 'em in no time, and the Bo'sun's
Mate--"

"Will fry them to a turn," laughed the voice of Mrs. Maloney, appearing
on the scene in a tight blue jersey and sandals, and catching up the
frying-pan. Her husband always called her the Bo'sun's Mate in Camp,
because it was her duty, among others, to pipe all hands to meals. "And as for you, Joan," went on the happy man, "you look like the spirit
of the island, with moss in your hair and wind in your eyes, and sun and
stars mixed in your face." He looked at her with delighted admiration. "Here, Sangree, take these twelve, there's a good fellow, they're the
biggest; and we'll have 'em in butter in less time than you can say
Baltic island!" I watched the Canadian as he slowly moved off to the cleaning pail. His
eyes were drinking in the girl's beauty, and a wave of passionate,
almost feverish, joy passed over his face, expressive of the ecstasy of
true worship more than anything else. Perhaps he was thinking that he
still had three weeks to come with that vision always before his eyes;
perhaps he was thinking of his dreams in the night. I cannot say. But I
noticed the curious mingling of yearning and happiness in his eyes, and
the strength of the impression touched my curiosity. Something in his
face held my gaze for a second, something to do with its intensity. That
so timid, so gentle a personality should conceal so virile a passion
almost seemed to require explanation. But the impression was momentary, for that first breakfast in Camp
permitted no divided attentions, and I dare swear that the porridge, the
tea, the Swedish "flatbread," and the fried fish flavoured with points
of frizzled bacon, were better than any meal eaten elsewhere that day in
the whole world. The first clear day in a new camp is always a furiously busy one, and we
soon dropped into the routine upon which in large measure the real
comfort of every one depends. About the cooking-fire, greatly improved
with stones from the shore, we built a high stockade consisting of
upright poles thickly twined with branches, the roof lined with moss and
lichen and weighted with rocks, and round the interior we made low
wooden seats so that we could lie round the fire even in rain and eat
our meals in peace. Paths, too, outlined themselves from tent to tent,
from the bathing places and the landing stage, and a fair division of
the island was decided upon between the quarters of the men and the
women. Wood was stacked, awkward trees and boulders removed, hammocks
slung, and tents strengthened. In a word, Camp was established, and
duties were assigned and accepted as though we expected to live on this
Baltic island for years to come and the smallest detail of the Community
life was important. Moreover, as the Camp came into being, this sense of a community
developed, proving that we were a definite whole, and not merely
separate human beings living for a while in tents upon a desert island. Each fell willingly into the routine. Sangree, as by natural selection,
took upon himself the cleaning of the fish and the cutting of the wood
into lengths sufficient for a day's use. And he did it well. The pan of
water was never without a fish, cleaned and scaled, ready to fry for
whoever was hungry; the nightly fire never died down for lack of
material to throw on without going farther afield to search. And Timothy, once reverend, caught the fish and chopped down the trees. He also assumed responsibility for the condition of the boat, and did it
so thoroughly that nothing in the little cutter was ever found wanting. And when, for any reason, his presence was in demand, the first place to
look for him was--in the boat, and there, too, he was usually found,
tinkering away with sheets, sails, or rudder and singing as he tinkered. 'Nor was the "reading" neglected; for most mornings there came a sound
of droning voices form the white tent by the raspberry bushes, which
signified that Sangree, the tutor, and whatever other man chanced to be
in the party at the time, were hard at it with history or the classics. And while Mrs. Maloney, also by natural selection, took charge of the
larder and the kitchen, the mending and general supervision of the rough
comforts, she also made herself peculiarly mistress of the megaphone
which summoned to meals and carried her voice easily from one end of the
island to the other; and in her hours of leisure she daubed the
surrounding scenery on to a sketching block with all the honesty and
devotion of her determined but unreceptive soul. Joan, meanwhile, Joan, elusive creature of the wilds, became I know not
exactly what. She did plenty of work in the Camp, yet seemed to have no
very precise duties. She was everywhere and anywhere. Sometimes she
slept in her tent, sometimes under the stars with a blanket. She knew
every inch of the island and kept turning up in places where she was
least expected--for ever wandering about, reading her books in sheltered
corners, making little fires on sunless days to "worship by to the
gods," as she put it, ever finding new pools to dive and bathe in, and
swimming day and night in the warm and waveless lagoon like a fish in a
huge tank. She went bare-legged and bare-footed, with her hair down and
her skirts caught up to the knees, and if ever a human being turned into
a jolly savage within the compass of a single week, Joan Maloney was
certainly that human being. She ran wild. So completely, too, was she possessed by the strong spirit of the place
that the little human fear she had yielded to so strangely on our
arrival seemed to have been utterly dispossessed. As I hoped and
expected, she made no reference to our conversation of the first
evening. Sangree bothered her with no special attentions, and after all
they were very little together. His behaviour was perfect in that
respect, and I, for my part, hardly gave the matter another thought. Joan was ever a prey to vivid fancies of one kind or another, and this
was one of them. Mercifully for the happiness of all concerned, it had
melted away before the spirit of busy, active life and deep content
that reigned over the island. Every one was intensely alive, and peace
was upon all. *       *       *       *       *

Meanwhile the effect of the camp-life began to tell. Always a searching
test of character, its results, sooner or later, are infallible, for it
acts upon the soul as swiftly and surely as the hypo bath upon the
negative of a photograph.