alm shallow bay where fuel grew close
down to the water's edge. Having no small boat, we had to wade ashore
and carry the women, Coutlass attending to his own inamorata. Lady
Saffren Waldon's picric acid rage exploded by being dropped between two
porters waist-deep into the water. It was her fault. She insisted one
was not enough, yet refused to explain how two should do the work of
one. Sitting on their two shoulders, holding on by their hair, she
frightened the left-hand man by losing her balance and clutching his
nose and eyes. She insisted on having both men flogged for having
dropped her, and Fred's refusal was the signal for new war, our rescue
of her being flung at once on to the scrap heap of her memory.

She counted with cold cynicism on our unwillingness to leave her again
at the mercy of the Germans, and had no more consideration of our
rights or feelings than the cuckoo has for the owner of the nest in
which she lays her eggs.

"Beat those fools!" she ordered. "Beat them blue and give them no
breakfast!"

"Do you see that rock over there, Lady Waldon?" Fred answered. "Go and
spread your clothes to dry. When we've cooked food we'll send Rebecca
to you with your share."

"If you send that slut to me I will kill her!" she answered, flying
into a new fury.

"Whom do you call slut?" demanded Coutlass (and he had no compunctions
of any kind--particularly none about women, and calling names. He was
simply feeling gallant after his own fashion, and alert for a chance to
show off.) Lady Waldon backed away from him.

"Of course," she sneered, "if you loose your bully at me, I am no match
at all!"

Fred promptly kicked Coutlass until he ran limping out of range, to sit
and nurse his bruises with polyglot profanity. The Syrian Rebecca went
over to comfort him, and eying the two of them with either malice or
else calculation (it was impossible to judge which) Lady Waldon
retreated toward the rock that Fred had pointed out.

We cooked a miserable meal, neither daring to make too great inroad
into our stores before making sure we could replenish them, nor caring
to make more smoke than we could help. We hoped to escape being seen
even by natives, but Lady Waldon upset that part of our plan by setting
up such a scream when she saw three islanders crossing a ridge three
hundred yards away, that they could not help hearing her, and came to
investigate. She was forced to dress faster than ever in her l