The outer shore-line was much indented with numberless coves and bays
and sandy beaches, with here and there caves and precipitous little
cliffs against which the sea broke in spray and thunder. But the inner
shore, the shore of the lagoon, was low and regular, and so well
protected by the wall of trees along the ridge that no storm could ever
send more than a passing ripple along its sandy marges. Eternal shelter
reigned there. On one of the other islands, a few hundred yards away--for the rest of
the party slept late this first morning, and we took to the canoe--we
discovered a spring of fresh water untainted by the brackish flavour of
the Baltic, and having thus solved the most important problem of the
Camp, we next proceeded to deal with the second--fish. And in half an
hour we reeled in and turned homewards, for we had no means of storage,
and to clean more fish than may be stored or eaten in a day is no wise
occupation for experienced campers. And as we landed towards six o’clock we heard the clergyman singing as
usual and saw his wife and Sangree shaking out their blankets in the
sun, and dressed in a fashion that finally dispelled all memories of
streets and civilisation. “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 from 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.