CHAPTER XXVI SKELETON ISLAND

Then Gaspard came on deck. He had spoken his mind and he felt easier. He had tried to dissuade Sagesse from disturbing this resting-place of bones and possible treasure, Sagesse would not be dissuaded, all the same Gaspard felt easier. He had, in plain English, a holy terror of Simon Serpente. His sufferings on the island, his ill-luck in killing Yves and betraying himself to Sagesse, the horrible personality of Serpente and the fact that he had seen and handled his bones just before the tragedy of Yves, all these things combined with superstition to make this monster-man, dead long years ago, a living, and vital personality to Gaspard. He feared him a great deal more than he feared the devil. He was not sure at all that the devil had existence or power over man, but he was sure that Serpente had acted as an excellent substitute for the devil in life and that in death he was still harmful.

For Gaspard the Ka of Simon Serpente existed on that island, guarding the bones it had once surrounded and the treasure it had once amassed; in trying to dissuade Sagesse from the expedition, he felt he had propitiated this Ka, the wrath of the thing he fancied would fall on Sagesse, and as he leaned on the bulwark rail thinking over the situation and the forthcoming expedition, an unholy curiosity awoke in his mind as to the upshot of the affair.

I doubt if he would have drawn back from it now, even183 if he could; curiosity, whose hold upon the superstitious mind is profound, had him in her grip.

“Wait,” said Curiosity, “I will show you something strange.”

As he gazed across the blue water of the harbour at the coloured town, the palms, the high woods, leaping green against the blue sky, he remembered Marie. Simon Serpente had driven her for a moment from his mind. He was to meet her this evening, two hours before sunset, on the road to Morne Rouge.

Contrasted with his gloomy thoughts, how bright seemed that faithful figure, contrasted with the demon picture of Serpente, how lovely was this form! From where he stood he could see, or thought he could see, the beginning of the road to Morne Rouge, up there where the houses fell away and the palms took the place of buildings.

His heart leaped to the spot.

As he was leaning on the rail and looking, Sagesse came out of the deck-house. The negroes at work on the cargo had knocked off for a spell, boats had come alongside with the wives of the stevedores, bringing their food; each woman had with her a basket covered with a white cloth and each basket was divided into compartments containing fruit, fish—generally sádines—and bread.

As the men chattered with their wives, Sagesse and Gaspard went round the decks; the cargo was half out; it was a very light cargo and it was easy to see that La Belle Arlésienne would be clear of it and in ballast by Friday morning. Having satisfied himself on this point, Gaspard went to the little cabin that had been allotted to him and began turning out the rubbish with which it was encumbered, old bottles and cigar boxes, bundles of old newspapers, all sorts of useless raffle; when the place was clear,184 déjeuner was ready, corossoles, chicken and rice, fruit, and the inevitable rum. The negro cook placed the things on the table and retired.

Sagesse was cheerful during the meal, even friendly; never would you have thought that this man had only a short time ago held out threats against his table companion. I doubt, even, if his cheerfulness was assumed or his friendliness false; he had the art, almost a horrible art, of packing away in his mind ill feeling, distrust, suspicion, against a man, keeping them cool and fresh till they were wanted. He was almost certain that Gaspard had betrayed the secret of the island to Seguin, but he shewed nothing of it in his manner, felt, perhaps, nothing of it in his mind, as he enjoyed the excellent food before him and talked of trade, of the cargo, of the customs—and the hundred and one things that are bound up with trade, the tropics, and the sea.

After déjeuner, Gaspard lit a pipe and lay down in his cabin for a siesta; he kept the door open for coolness and he could see out beyond the cave-like twilight of the deck-house a glimpse of the sun-smitten deck; then he fell asleep, and when he awoke it was three o’clock.

He turned out of the bunk and came on deck. The winches were still going; Sagesse was nowhere to be seen; Jules, who was superintending the unloading of the cargo, said that Missie Sagesse had gone ashore an hour ago.

He was very friendly, Jules, and anxious to please, and leaving the hands to look after themselves for a moment, he called a shore boat that was hanging about the ship and with his own hands dropped the rope ladder for Gaspard.

In a few minutes the boat had landed Gaspard at the harbour steps; he paid the man, and taking his way up the185 Passage Bartine, made for the Rue Victor Hugo. He did not know that one of the boatmen was following him.

As he entered the Rue Victor Hugo he met M. Seguin, who had just returned from Grand Anse; it was one of those accidental meetings that Fate arranges. M. Seguin shook hands with his preserver, then, taking him by the arm, led him across the way to the Café Palmiste.

An hour later, the news was brought to Sagesse that Gaspard had met M. Seguin, evidently by appointment, in the Rue Victor Hugo, and that both men had entered a café.

This confirmation of his suspicions was the only thing wanted to fix in Sagesse’s mind the certainty that he was betrayed.

He had no fear of Seguin stealing a march on him, for La Belle Arlésienne would be away long before Seguin could commission a ship.

But he swore a frightful oath to be even with Gaspard when the moment arrived—and the place.