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Updated: June 2, 2025
The afternoon was sunny; the flat rock on which they were perched lay out of the wind's reach; and to beguile the interval of waiting Annet drew out a book which she had brought with her a much-worn copy of Hans Andersen which had arrived at Christmas, three years ago, as a gift from that mysterious Aunt Vazzy of whom their mother talked so often.
"Though this be not Africa, Nor yet Carthage town, Deo-gracey," said Zenobia, "That I did not drown!" "That's where the tune changes," interrupted Matthew Henry, clapping his small sunburnt hands together. "You know the song then?" asked Vashti, looking from one to the other. All three nodded. "We know a verse or two," Annet answered.
I drove to his house in a sleigh from the theatre if you know what a theatre is?" Vashti paused dubiously; but Annet nodded and assured her "That's all right. We don't know about these things, but they are all in the book." "And so," said Vashti, "is the man himself, or most of him. He was a queer, shy old man, with oddly-shaped hands and feet, but oh, such timid eyes!
These, with Melia Mundy, the house-girl, whose parents lived on Brefar, made up Farmer Tregarthen's employ, and took their meals at table with the family. The school which Annet, Linnet, and Matthew Henry attended had been built by the Lord Proprietor on Inniscaw shore, to serve the three islands of Inniscaw, Brefar, and Saaron.
Linnet and Matthew Henry, too, had picked themselves up, though more slowly.... A wisp of smoke drifted by the rock to their right. When they turned their eyes upon the Mermaid's Rock the singer had vanished. Annet caught Matthew Henry by one hand; Matthew Henry stretched out another to Linnet.
He picked up the granite stones, fitted them together, panelled them, made the floors from the deck of a brigantine which came ashore on Annet, pegged down the thatch roof in a word, he built the house from first to last with his own hands and he took fifteen months over the business, during which time he did not exchange a single word with Mrs.
For Annet and Linnet merely looked puzzled; to them the book was a book, just as the hill upon which they sat was a hill, and they had never troubled their heads about such a thing as an author. But Matthew Henry opened his infantine eyes still wider. "Tell us about him," he demanded. Vashti eyed the child curiously for a moment before answering.
"I don't believe there are any such things as mermaids!" Young Matthew Henry opened his mouth and stared, round-eyed at such dreadful scepticism. Annet, too, gazed up from her book. "But the story says there are," she answered, simply and gravely. "Who ever saw one?" persisted doubting Linnet.
Annet, like Woolston, was prosecuted for blasphemy and profanity; and if the secular arm should ever be appealed to in such matters, which is doubtful, he deserved it by the coarse ribaldry of his attacks upon sacred things. It has been thought better to present at one view the works which were written on the miracles. This, however, is anticipating.
It is a grand spot for seabirds razor-bills, puffins, guillemots, shags, and gulls. Annet, one of the largest of the uninhabited isles, is positively honeycombed with birds' nests, and at times it is ablaze with colour of the sea-pink and thrift.
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