He had been
apprehensive and anxious when he supposed friendly aid might be
approaching, and he had been utterly astounded when he was forced to
believe that they were armed men who were rowing to shore, and must be
enemies. He had fought a terrible fight. He had conquered the scoundrels
who had come for his life and his treasure, and, best of all, he had
secured a vessel which would carry him and his men and his fortune to
France. He had endeavored to keep cool and think only of the work that
was immediately in hand, and he had no wish to ask anybody why or how
things had happened. They had happened, and that was all in all to him.
But now he was ready to make all necessary inquiries, and he began with
Inkspot. Maka being interpreter, the examination was easily carried on.
The story of the negro was a very interesting one. He told of his
adventures on shore, and how kind the men had been to him until they went
on board the _Arato_, and how then they treated him as if he had been a
dog--how he had been made to do double duty in all sorts of disagreeable
work, and how, after they had seen the light on the beach, he had been
put into the hold and tied hand and foot. While down there in the dark he
had heard the firing on shore, and, after a long while, the firing from
the deck, and other shots near by. All this had so excited him that he
managed to get one hand loose from his cords, and then had speedily
unfastened the rest, and had quietly crept to a hatchway, where he could
watch what was going on without showing himself.
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