In the narrow streets stalls had been set up. There were all sorts of goods on display trinkets, rings, bracelets, necklaces, leather goods capacious bags of the softest kind with patterns tooled on them very delicately; there was bread being baked in cavern-like shops. Some loaves were on display decorated with little black seeds; there were fez hats, turbans and straw hats; shoes, sandals such as were worn by the Moors, some with pointed toes curled upwards, and soft leather slippers.
Tamarisk paused by one of the stalls. A hat had caught her eyes. It was made of straw, rather like a boater, and trimmed with blue ribbons and a bunch of forget-me-nots.
She picked it up. The salesman was alert while Mrs. Dunstan looked on in mild amusement.
“You can’t wear that, my dear,” she said.
To tell Tamarisk she could not do something, I knew from the past, always made her determined to do it.
She put on the hat. The man at the stall watched her, his black eyes wide with admiration. He put his hands together and raised his eyes to the sky. It was obvious he meant to convey the impression that he was overwhelmed by the beauty of Tamarisk in the straw hat.
It did make her look young and she reminded me of Tamarisk the schoolgirl. The nightmare of the last months had left her untouched for the moment.
“It’s fun,” she said.
“I must have it. How much?”
Mrs. Dunstan was at her side and a little bargaining ensued until Mrs. Dunstan, with an air of authority, clinched the deal, sorted out the money which Tamarisk had been able to change, and Tamarisk set the straw hat on her head, putting the small toque which she had been wearing into a bag, and we went on.
It was the Major who said we must see the Barbary apes. That was essential. We should have to climb a bit as they inhabited the higher slopes.
“You’ll find them amusing. They’ve been here for hundreds of years.
We like to see them flourishing. There is a legend that while the apes are here the British will be too. The two will go together. A lot of nonsense, of course, but these things have an effect on people, so we like to check that the apes are doing well. “
They were certainly amusing, lively creatures, with alert inquisitive eyes, accustomed to visitors, for as the Major had said, when you come to Gibraltar you must see the apes.
They approached us almost mischievously, coming close, clearly without fear. They apparently liked attention and seemed to glean as much amusement from the visitors as the visitors did from them.
“Be careful of anything you’re carrying,” warned Mrs. Dunstan.
“They have a way of snatching things and running off.”
Just as she spoke one came very close. We did not see him at first, then Tamarisk gave a sudden cry, for he had whipped her hat from her head and was running off with it.
Well! ” stammered Tamarisk, and we could not help laughing at her dismay.
“It was very colourful,” said Mrs. Dunstan.
“It must have caught his eye. Never mind. It’s gone now.”
We walked on and had not gone far when a man ran up with Tamarisk’s new hat in his hand.
He was laughing.
“I saw what happened. You lost your hat. The ape was so quick. They are very human, these creatures. He stopped near me. He was looking back at you. That gave me the opportunity. I snatched it from him.”
“How clever of you!” cried Tamarisk.
Everyone was laughing. Others came up and joined us.
“It was the funniest thing,” said one of the ladies.
“The ape looked so bewildered. Then he seemed to shrug his shoulders and run off.”
“It’s a becoming hat,” said its rescuer, smiling at Tamarisk.
He was tall, fair-haired and pleasant-looking, with a manner which was immediately likeable.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Tamarisk.
“It was so easy. The wily ape only had possession of his prize for a few seconds.”
“I’m glad to have it back.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Dunstan, ‘all’s well that ends well. I shouldn’t put it on again. Tamarisk, if I were you. This time there might not be a gallant rescuer at hand. “
We moved on and the man seemed to attach himself to us. I had no doubt that he was among the party of sightseers from the ship.
Mrs. Dunstan confirmed this by saying: “You are on the Queen of the South, of course.”
“Yes,” he said.
“It seems that most of the people in Gibraltar today are from the Queen of the South.”
“It’s always so when the ship calls,” added the Major.
“I think it is time we descended a little,” said Mrs. Dunstan.
“Perhaps a little refreshment would be a good idea. What about that place we went to last time, Gerald?” she addressed the Major.
“Do you remember? You liked those special pastries they had?”
“I remember them well,” replied the Major.
“And I am sure everyone would like to sample them. We can watch the world go by while we refresh ourselves.”
We descended and the hat rescuer was still with us. We found the cafe and about six of us went in and sat where we could look out on the street. The fair man was with us. He sat between Tamarisk and me.
Coffee and the special pastries were ordered and the Major, looking at the newcomer, said: “It’s amazing that one can be on a ship in a fairly confined space and not know a number of one’s fellow travellers.”
It was clearly an invitation to the young man to introduce himself.
“I’m Luke Armour,” he said.
“I am going to Sydney.”
Tamarisk and I looked at each other in delight.
“That’s interesting’ she burst out.
Mrs. Dunstan was looking at her as though to say, in what way?
Tamarisk explained: “We saw your luggage label on the first day we got on the ship. Your bags were piled up with the others. We saw you were going to Casker’s Island.”
“That’s right,” he said expectantly.
“The point is,” said Tamarisk, ‘so are we. “
“Really! How interesting! You must be the only ones apart from myself.
Why are you going there? “
“My father lives there,” I said.
“We are going to see him.”
“Oh,” he replied.
“Do you know it well?” I asked.
“I’ve never been there.”
“People always look amazed when they know we’re going there,” said Tamarisk.
“Well, nobody seems to know very much about it. I’ve tried to find out but there doesn’t seem much to know. All I learned is that it is an island which was discovered by a man named Casker about three hundred years ago. He lived there until he died. Hence, Casker’s Island. Your father lives there, you say?”
“Yes, and we are going to see him.”
He looked at me questioningly, as though wondering why I knew so little about the place since my father lived there. But he must have guessed that my relationship with my father was not a usual one and he was too polite to probe.
“How are you going to get there?” I asked.
“There is only one way, it seems. Leave at Sydney and take a ship to a place called Cato Cato and from there get the ferry to Casker’s.”
“That is what we are doing.”
“Well, it is interesting to find someone who is going to this little-known place.”
“Rather comforting,” commented Tamarisk.
“I agree,” he said with a warm smile.
We were both happy to have discovered the identity of Luke Armour and to have found him so pleasant.