The Exiles of Faloo by Barry Pain

The King's house was built bungalow fashion. The rooms were large and lofty, and opened on to a broad verandah; the furniture was scanty but sufficient, and much of it was of native workmanship; only in the bedrooms did the Auckland-imported suites reign supreme. The walls were hung with printed cloths or matting woven in intricate and elaborate designs. In every room banks of flowers gave audacious but splendid colour, and young palms yielded a cool green relief. The garden was not less lovely because many of its natural features had been left unaltered. The little stream that leaped from the crag into the pool twelve feet below had fallen, just there and just so, long before the exiles had come to Faloo, long before the King's grandfather had died -- of alcohol and excessive passions. The white paths curved and twisted through innumerable shrubberies, and lost themselves in deep cool shade. Here and there were broad stretches of tufty unmown grass, and long hedges of hibiscus aflame with scarlet.

Hilda was principally fascinated by all that was native. The extremely fine work of the matting on the walls interested her, the great garden enthralled her. To Tiva and Ioia it was more remarkable that for the first time in their lives they had seen themselves reflected in a full-length mirror; this wonder of civilisation adorned the wardrobe in Hilda's room. Mr Lechworthy, attended by King Smith, noted with great satisfaction that his room possessed a spring mattress and a tin bath, and that his Bible, his camera and his clothes had arrived safely. Even as he examined them a letter was handed to him which a messenger from the Exiles' Club had just brought. It was an agonised letter from Bassett, repeating that he had fired by accident, proclaiming the deepest repentance for his past life, expressing his desire to return with Lechworthy to England and there to stand his trial. Lechworthy handed it to King Smith.