h the string attached to
the syren in his hand; beside him, glancing at the compass-card,
grasping the spokes of the wheel, and silently awaiting instructions,
was one of the men; the mate was for'ard with his whistle; and two
little knots of islanders were gathered about the moorings on the quay,
ready to cast off the hawsers as soon as the paddles moved and the
captain gave the word.

Loungers and holiday-makers were stirred into mild excitement by our
expected departure. Exchanges of farewells, amid occasional shouts and a
continuous ripple of laughter, were passing between those on board and
those ashore. The usually quiet life of St. Mary's was bubbling up in
its periodical agitation. By the outgoing and incoming of the steamer
the islanders touched the great world without, and thrilled at the touch
and felt its importance.

It was a pleasant scene, or it would have been but for the inexcusable
delay of the Honourable John. We began to fear that he would be left.
The captain pulled the string again, and the syren sounded, with a
peculiar urgency, as it seemed to me, ending in a despairing wail; then,
stepping to the indicator, he signalled to the engineer, and the paddles
began to revolve. The forward hawser was thrown off and fell with a
splash into the sea; astern we were yet alongside the quay.

The Honourable John appeared, resplendent in all the glory of a silk
hat and frock coat, with a flower in his buttonhole, his hands gloved in
lemon-coloured kids, and his feet shiny with patent leather; the people
parted to let him pass, and stared at him as if he were a marquis at the
very least, but the porter flung his portmanteau over the bulwarks like
that of any other common tourist; John himself, with more agility than I
gave him credit for, sprang aboard only just in time, as the men shouted
"All clear aft, sir."

Once more we heard the click of the bells in the engine-room, and away
we went through the clear waters, with the white foam mingling in our
wake and the other islands gliding rapidly into view.

"You donkey!" said I, surveying the delinquent from head to foot, and
noticing particularly the round spot of plaster on his chin. "Why didn't
you come earlier?"

"Call him a parrakeet," said Syd. "That will better describe him."

"He's both," I replied--"slow as the one and gay as the other. But we've
got him, and we'll see that he does not defraud young Clifton of a
single minute of the holiday he's w