By consent of the lighthouse keeper, we left the Belle Helène moored
at the wharf in the channel, with Williams in charge, while Peterson
and I, towing the tender's sailing skiff, its piratical lateen sail
lowered, started back for our encampment in our long boat. It was only
a half mile or so alongshore around the head of the island, although
we had to keep out a bit to avoid going aground on the flats where the
Belle Helène had come to grief--and had, moreover, to wade ashore
some fifty yards or so, now that the sea was calm, since the keel of
the motor-boat would not admit a closer approach in the shallows.
We found our party all assembled, John having but now issued his
luncheon call; and, such had proved the swift spell of this care-free
life, none expressed much delight at the announcement of my decision
to strike camp and move toward civilization. Helena only looked up
swiftly, but made no comment; and Mrs. Daniver, to my surprise, openly
rebelled at leaving these flesh-pots, where canvasback and terrapin
might be had by shaking the bushes, and where the supply of
ninety-three seemed, after all, not exhausted. Of course, my men had
nothing to say about it, but when it came to my partners and
associates, Lafitte and L'Olonnois, there was open mutiny.
"Why, now," protested L'Olonnois, his lip quivering, "O' course we
don't want to go home. Ain't our desert island all right? Where you
goin' to find any better place 'n this, like to know? Besides"--and
here he drew me to one side--"they's a good reason for not goin' just
yet, Black Bart!"
"What, Jimmy?" I inquired.
"Well, I know somethin'."
"And what is it?"
"Well, Jean Lafitte knows it, too."
"What is it then?"
"Well, it ain't happened yet, but it's goin' to--or anyhow maybe."
"You interest me! Is it a matter of importance?"
"--Say it was!"
"To whom?"
"Why, to you--an' besides, to my Auntie Helena. 'N' you can't pull off
things like that just anywheres. Jean Lafitte an' me, we frame up how
to handle yon heartless jade, the fair captive, 'n' here you butt in
'n' spoil the whole works. It ain't right."
I bethought me now of the conversation I had unwillingly
overheard--and my heart was grateful to these my friends--but the next
instant I remembered the note to Cal Davidson.
"I thank you, Jimmy, my friend," said I, "and I believe I know what
you mean, but it can't be done."
"What can't, an' why can't it?"
"Why, the--the frame-up that you have just mentioned. In short--but,
Jimmy, go on and roll up the blankets."
"But why can't it, and what do you know about it? Tell me," he
demanded with sudden inspiration, "is yon varlet a suitor, too, for
yon heartless jade?"