Jenks knew a good deal of botany, and enough about birds to differentiate between carnivorous species and those fit for human food, whilst the salt in their most fortunate supply of hams rendered their meals almost epicurean.  Think of it, ye dwellers in cities, content with stale buns and leathery sandwiches when ye venture into the wilds of a railway refreshment-room, these two castaways, marooned by queer chance on a desert island, could sit down daily to a banquet of vegetable soup, fish, a roast bird, ham boiled or fried, and a sago pudding, the whole washed down by cool spring water, or, should the need arise, a draught of the best champagne!

From the rusty rifles on the reef Jenks brought away the bayonets and secured all the screws, bolts, and other small odds and ends which might be serviceable.  From the barrels he built a handy grate to facilitate Iris’s cooking operations, and a careful search each morning amidst the ashes of any burnt wreckage accumulated a store of most useful nails.

The pressing need for a safe yet accessible bathing place led him and the girl to devote one afternoon to a complete survey of the coast-line.  By this time they had given names to all the chief localities.  The northerly promontory was naturally christened North Cape; the western, Europa Point; the portion of the reef between their habitation and Palm-tree Rock became Filey Brig; the other section North-west Reef.  The flat sandy passage across the island, containing the cave, house, and well, was named Prospect Park; and the extensive stretch of sand on the south-east, with its guard of broken reefs, was at once dubbed Turtle Beach when Jenks discovered that an immense number of green turtles were paying their spring visit to the island to bury their eggs in the sand.

The two began their tour of inspection by passing the scene of the first desperate struggle to escape from the clutch of the typhoon.  Iris would not be content until the sailor showed her the rock behind which he placed her for shelter whilst he searched for water.  For a moment the recollection of their unfortunate companions on board ship brought a lump into her throat and dimmed her eyes.

“I remember them in my prayers every night,” she confided to him.  “It seems so unutterably sad that they should be lost, whilst we are alive and happy.”

The man distracted her attention by pointing out the embers of their first fire.  It was the only way to choke back the tumultuous feelings that suddenly stormed his heart.  Happy!  Yes, he had never before known such happiness.  How long would it last?  High up on the cliff swung the signal to anxious searchers of the sea that here would be found the survivors of the Sirdar.  And then, when rescue came, when Miss Deane became once more the daughter of a wealthy baronet, and he a disgraced and a nameless outcast—!  He set his teeth and savagely struck at a full cup of the pitcher-plant which had so providentially relieved their killing thirst.