"Go with her; I am in no danger," he said.
"And who, may I ask, is she?" asked Mr. Maynard as the three women disappeared in the cabin.
"She is the last descendant of a shipload of Dutch soldiers, sailors, and traders who were cast away on this island two hundred and fifty years ago, together with some Polynesians they had picked up and who had lived here ever since; ’the world forgetting--by the world forgot,’" he added, the quotation being so exquisitely apt, although he was not in a poetic mood.
"I have held her in as much respect as I have held your daughter, Mr. Maynard," returned Beekman haughtily, for the question irked him exceedingly, although he could not fail to recognize that it was natural and indeed inevitable. "Until the earthquake and the tidal wave yesterday," continued Beekman, "the barrier reef completely surrounded the island. The people on it lived in a sort of cup, crater of an old volcano, I think; very fertile and beautiful, but quite hidden from the sea, access to it from the beach being extremely difficult, almost impossible. The earthquake changed all that." Beekman had noted through his cabin ports the situation of the yacht and the havoc wrought by the awful catastrophe. "Tomorrow I will show you the island and we will seek for survivors of the catastrophe. Have any been seen?"
"Perhaps they have all perished," said Harnash, forcing himself to speak.
"A fitting end for an isolation of two centuries and a half," said Beekman mournfully.
"It’s a long story," answered Beekman. "I’ll tell it to you when we are all assembled. Meanwhile, if I could get some clothes--"
"You have only to choose from your own, Derrick," said Harnash. "At Stephanie’s suggestion, when we started this search for you, we brought along some of your clothes."
"My man will fix you up," said Maynard. "I’ll send him to you. Are you hungry?"
"The steward has been feeding me what he thinks is proper."
"Sore and stiff, but it will be all right in a day or two. I suppose I should have stayed in the berth, but when I heard the name of the yacht and caught the sound of your voices--well, you know. I’ll be back just as quickly as I can dress."
When Beekman returned to the cabin half an hour later he was completely metamorphosed. He laughed at his own fancy, but from the very complete wardrobe they had brought him he had chosen to attire himself in the same sort of a conventional dinner suit as Maynard and Harnash were wearing. The thick beard and mustache which had so worried him had disappeared under the deft manipulations of Mr. Maynard’s man. Clean shaven, clothed, in his right mind, one might have thought that the adventures of the last year had passed over his head without a trace.