Ronou hands of late have been laid on the novel
of adventurous incident, some of the most popular recent efforts in this genre having been marked by a complete dis- regard for, not to say a complete ignorance of, the rudiments of the literary craft. It is thus a matter for rejoicing to see this fair domain rescued from the hands of illiterate artisans by a writer like "Q," who combines to such an unusual degree the qualities of invention, knowledge, and technical skill. So fine a scholar with so strong a tincture of the poet in his composition might well incur the risk of writing over the heads of his audience, but Mr. Quiller-Couch has the happy gift of adapting his manner to the occasion. He can put on Court dress where it is needed: no living writer has a better sense of the value of the decorative element. On the other land, he is not less successful in sinking all pomp and reproducing the homely talk of the uneducated. But this easy mastery of the art of literary presentation is only one of his engaging accomplishments. If he has not the highest creative faculty, he has at least the power of lending freshness and vitality to time-worn, and even hackneyed, themes by the agility of his invention and the picturesqueness of his miss. en-seene. Here we have the old stock-in-trade of a treasure island in the Spanish Main, a chart for the possession of which more than one murder has been committed, and an expedition which brings the forces of good and evil into deadly conflict. But the working out of the plot is re- freshingly unlike the normal procedure. The main outlines and many of the incidents are familiar, but the element of surprise is seldom wanting at each move in the game. Who but " Q " would have illustrated the possibilities of undreamt-of daring that reside in the feminine breast with such fantastic humour as to assign the role of adventurer- in-chief to that blameless spinster, Miss Plinlimmon P There are plenty of strong situations in the story, but none more dramatic than "Plinny's " intervention when the reading of Captain Coffin's diary was cut short by the sudden ending of that incomplete but tantalising narrative. Miss Belcher, that fearless Amazon, was nonplussed ; the young squire, Mr. Rogers, an able-bodied man of his hands, could only ask, "What's to be done P "— " Dear me,' said a voice, • there is surely but one thing to be done ! We must go and search for ourselves.' We all turned and stared at Plinny. Everybody stared; and this had the effect of making the dear good creature blush to the eyes. • I beg your pardon, ma'am ?' said Mr. Jack Rogers. 'It—it was not for me to say so, perhaps.' Her voice quavered a little, and now a pair of bright tears trembled on her lashes ; but she kept up her chin bravely and seemed to take courage as she went on. 'I am aware, sir, that in all matters of hazard and enterprise it is for the gentlemen to take the lead. If I appear forward—if I speak too impulsively—my affection for Harry must be my excuse.' Mr. Rogers stared at Captain Branscome, and from Captain Branscome to Mr. Goodfellow, but their faces did not help him. That's all very well, ma'am. But an expedition to the • Poison Maud, By Q" (A. T. Qaffler•Conali). London; Smith, Elder, and Co. (re.] other end of the world—if that's what you suggest P—at * moment's notice—on what, as like or not, may turn out to be a wild-goose chase— Lord bless my soul wound up Mr. Rogers incoherently, falling back in his chair. 'I was not proposing to start at a moment's notice,' replied Plinny, with extreme simplicity. 'There will, of course, be many details to arrange and I do not forget that we are in the house of mourning. The poor dear Major claims our first thoughts, naturally. Yes, yes; there must be a hundred and one details to be discussed hereafter—at a fitting time ; and it may be many weeks before we find ourselves actually launched—if I may use the expression—upon the bosom of the deep.'—' We ? ' gasped Mr. Rogers, and again gazed around ; but we others had no attention to spare for him. • We? Who are " we " ?'—' Why, all of us, sir, if I raight dare to propose it ; or at least as many aa possible of us whom the hand of Providence has so mysteriously brought together. I will confess that while you were talking just now, dis- cussing this secret which properly speaking belongs to Harry alone, I doubted the prudence of it—'= And, by Jingo, you were right !' put in Miss Belabor.—' With your leave, ma'am,' Plinny went on, • I have come to think otherwise. To begin with, but for Captain Branscome the map would never have found its way to the Major's room' where Harry discovered it ; but might— nay, probably would—have been stolen by the wicked man who committed this crime to get possession of it. Again, but for Mr. Goodfellow this written narrative would undoubtedly have been lost to us, and the map, if not meaningless, might have seemed a clue not worth the risk of following. In short, ma'am'—Plinny turned again to Miss Belcher—' I saw that each of us at this table had been wonderfully brought here by the hand of Pro- vidence. And from this I went on to see, and with wonder and thankfulness, that here was a secret, sought after by many evil- doers, which had yet come into the keeping of six persons, all of them honest, and wishful only to do good. Consider, ma'am, bow unlikely this was, after the many bold, bad hands that have reached out for it. And will you tell me that here is accident only, and not the finger of Providence itself?"
The schooner-yacht Espriella ' might not perhaps be accurately called a ship of fools, but her crew certainly merited the title of simpletons bestowed on them by the evil genius of the island, Dr. Beauregard. And that reminds us
that " Q " is not troubled by any squeamishness about his bad characters. He adopts no half-measures with villains, but paints them without relief. On the other hand, the representatives of virtue and fair dealing are all the more attractive for their failings and foibles,—Captain Branscome for his punctilio, Miss Belcher for her strange taste in dress,
and the admirable " Plinny " for her frequent lapses into doggerel, of which, out of many equally delightful specimens, we may quote the following, inspired by the writer's arrival at the island "Arrived o'er the limitless ocean In 16 degrees of N. latitude, Our lips were attuned to devotion, Our spirits uplifted in gratitude.
Our hearts with poetic afflatus Took wing and impulsively soared As the lead-line (a quaint apparatus) Reported the depth overboard.
Oh, oft had I dream'd of the tropics— But never to see them in person— So full of remarkable topics
To speculate, sing, and converse on."
Captious critics may object that the reference to the catapult in cricket—the date of the story is 1814—and the use of the word "bun" of a lady's coiffure are anachronisms. A much more serious flaw is the abruptness of the resolve of the sinister Dr. Beauregaad to spare the last company of treasure-seekers because they were simpletons, and he had not dealt with simpletons before. The donoilment is, indeed, somewhat hurriedly contrived, and leaves several threads hanging loose. But, with all deductions, Poison Island is a first-rate enter.
tainment, and leaves us with our admiration unimpaired for the fantastic humour and intrepid invention of the beneficent "Q."
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