HEN Trenchard came on deck after breakfast, the schooner was heeling over to a spanking breeze. She was just doubling Cape St. Andrew, whose palms and sandy point lay far off to port, and was well inside the long shoals which kept steamers fifteen miles out to sea. The ocean horizon was empty. The gunboat might be dismissed from calculations.
Trenchard went to his mate, glanced at the compass, cocked an eye at the canvas aloft, and made no comment. The schooner was not the same ship which he had seen in Majunga harbor. Now her topmasts were up, her own heavy spread of canvas had been bent, and the decks were shipshape; also, slings were out and she was getting a new coat of paint above the waterline.
“You know the anchorage a mile north of Lava Island, at the south end of the Barrens?” said Trenchard. “We're to meet a dhow there and take aboard cargo, but I'm a bit suspicious. In the capital, we heard that the Tonkin expected to catch us—that chap Brouillan from Nosi Bé is in command of her. He was at the capital when I left, but may be anywhere now. We're to meet the dhow Friday. She belongs to an Arab merchant, Ali el Khadar, one of those big chaps.”
Yusuf nodded. “By Allah, rais, you need suspect nothing from that man! If there is any plot, Ali and his house are not in it. He has interests all over the south of Madagascar and does a good deal of trading with the natives. What is the cargo?”
“Not mentioned.”
“Then it is gold, which he must smuggle out of the country to Zanzibar. Perhaps the plot was concerned with this man whom you brought aboard. Did he signal the gunboat?”
Trenchard shrugged. He told Yusuf who Forillon was—whereat the Arab frowned in perplexity.
“Whether or not he signaled,” said Trenchard, “I can't make up my mind. At the same time, I'm going to run a blazer on him. You're in ballast, I see. Have any trouble while I was gone?”
“None, rais. I went to the Mauritius and brought over two cargoes to Diego Suarez.”
“Good. Give Forillon his breakfast, then send him to me. Leave his wrists ironed. Any weapons on him?”
Yusuf jerked up his head in negation, and went forward. Trenchard stretched out in his long deck-chair, eyed the inland coast hills and lighted his pipe.
He could not make up his mind about Forillon. Two accidents had happened, both perfectly excusable; but Trenchard seldom excused accidents, and he had already set down Forillon as a man who rarely made mistakes, certainly as no bungler. To offset his suspicions were two very important facts in favor of the fugitive. One, Forillon had nothing to gain by betraying Trenchard; the other, Brouillan was on his way south to take charge of the Tonkin and had had nothing to do with events at Majunga. So Trenchard did not know what to think, though he was inclined to give Forillon the benefit of the doubt.
S he sat in the lee of the upper rail—his chair lashed down—and looked out over the miles of seaward reefs where the rolling breakers burst and foamed heavily, the thought of what he must do brought him sadness. Trenchard liked other men, if they gave him a chance; he was no ravening wolf who hated his own kind. If he had to fight, he would fight terribly, but he would also go a long way around to avoid the encounter. He reckoned Forillon as a brave man, too, and gave him respect—traitor or not.
“Confound it, I'm fair forced into this business!” he reflected unhappily. “Ram Das and the others, and these chaps aboard here, all know that I'll protect 'em at all costs. Forillon, if by any chance he is a traitor to me, has seen too much and knows too much. I gave him fair
He stiffened suddenly. Could this be the reason why Forillon had taken such desperate chances to signal the gunboat—granted that he had tried to signal her? Could it be because of the very warning which Trenchard had given him?
Trenchard chewed hard on that cud, and did not like the taste of it. Then he saw Yusuf coming aft, Forillon marching along beside him with that stiff-kneed, stubborn walk which so expressed the man's character. Unwashed, unshaven, filthy, the fugitive none the less held his heavy chin high, and his blue eyes looked straight and square at the skipper who awaited him, so that for a little Trenchard almost dismissed his doubts. None the less, he forced himself to that game which he must now play. The two men came aft and stopped by the deck-chair, and Trenchard nodded to the mate.
“Sit down,” he said in French, then let his eyes dwell frostily on Forillon's gaze. The Frenchman sat down, crossed his legs, smiled slightly, and indicated his ironed wrists.
“Is this the way I gain liberty, M. Trenchard?” he asked quietly.