Day 343: William’s Summer Holiday

The facts

A boy was emerging from behind one of the rocks that lay at the foot of the cliff. He was about William’s age, slender and wiry-looking, with coffee-coloured skin and bright dark eyes.
“Man Friday!” gasped Ginger again.
”He can’t be Man Friday,” said William, “’cause he’s not a man an’ it’s not Friday. It’s Wednesday.”
“Boy Wednesday, then,” said Ginger.


William and Ginger heartily resent being dragged away from home by their parents:

“It’s nice, boys, isn’t it?” said Mrs Brown cheerfully.
“It’s a house in a place,” said William gloomily. “I jus’ don’t know why people want to go jus’ from one house in one place to another in another.”
“It’s the summer holidays, dear,” explained Mrs Brown. “People do. Now take the suitcases up to the bedrooms. Then we’ll unpack.”
“Packin’ things jus’ to unpack ’em,” said Ginger with a careful imitation of William’s gloom.

They walked on, past the shops, down a road that was skirted by a high brick wall, and stopped at an imposing-looking pair of gates, which bore a notice “Highlands School. Headmaster: Arnold J. Mercer, M.A.”.
“Gosh, a school!” said William in a tone of disgust. “Let’s get away from it quick.”

But their spirits soon brighten when they find themselves on what they fondly imagine to be a desert island (quite how they managed to reach it without crossing a sea is unclear) inhabited by a foreign savage…