"He's off," he said. "Might have a high-power engine inside of him.

Guess he's going to scare those schooner men 'most out of their lives.

It's quite likely they won't keep anchor watch when they're lying snug in a place of this kind."

Nasmyth managed to control his laughter, and went down to divest himself of his draperies. When he came up again, George reported that he had just seen Martial crawling up the schooner's cable, and in another few moments what appeared to be a howl of terror rose from the vessel. It was not repeated, and shortly afterwards Nasmyth went to sleep.

Martial remained on board the schooner that night, and Nasmyth was not surprised when he failed to appear next morning. Acton had come back with his party when a man dropped into the boat astern of the schooner, and pulled towards the _Tillic.u.m_ leisurely. Everybody was on deck when he slid alongside, and, standing up in his boat, laid hold of the rail.

"I've a message for Mr. Acton," he said, holding up a strip of paper.

Acton, who took the paper from him, was a trifle perplexed when he glanced at it.

"It seems that Martial didn't stay at that ranch last night as I thought he had done," he remarked.

Mrs. Acton, who sat next to Miss Hamilton, looked up sharply. She was a tall woman with an authoritative manner.

"Where is he?" she inquired.

"Gone back to Victoria," said her husband, who handed her the note.

"It's kind of sudden, and he doesn't worry about saying why he went.

There's a little remark at the bottom that I don't quite like."

George naturally had been listening, and Nasmyth saw his subdued grin, but he saw also Mrs. Acton's quick glance at Miss Hamilton, which seemed to suggest that she surmised the girl could explain why Martial had departed so unceremoniously. There was, however, only astonishment, and, Nasmyth fancied, a trace of relief in Violet Hamilton's face. Mrs. Acton turned to her husband with a flush of resentment in her eyes.

"I should scarcely have believed Mr. Martial would ever write such a note," she said. "What does he mean when he says that he does not appreciate being left to sleep in the woods all night?"

"That," answered Acton, "is what I don't quite understand. If he'd hailed anchor watch loud enough, George would have gone off for him.

Still, we're lying quite a way out from the beach."

Then he remembered the man from the schooner, who still gripped the rail.

"How did you come to get this note?" he asked.

"The man who came off last night gave it to the skipper," said the schooner's deck-hand with a very suggestive grin.

"How'd he come off?" Acton asked. "Did you go ash.o.r.e for him?"

"We didn't!" said the man. "He must have swum off and crawled up the cable. Any way, when he struck the skipper he hadn't any clothes on him."

There was a little murmur of astonishment, and Mrs. Acton straightened herself suddenly, while Nasmyth saw a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt creep into Acton's eyes. The schooner man evidently felt that he had an interested audience, for he leaned upon the rail as he began to tell all he knew about the incident.

"I was asleep forward, when the skipper howled as if he was most scared out of his life," he said. "I got up out of the scuttle just as quick as I could, and there he was crawling round behind the stern-house with an axe in his hand, and the mate flat up against the rail.

"'Shut that slide quick,' says the skipper. 'Shut it. He's crawling up the ladder.'

"'I guess you can shut it yourself if you want it shut.' He asked for whisky. 'Tell him where it is,' says the mate."

There was no doubt that the listeners were interested, and the man made an impressive gesture. "It was kind of scaring. There was a soft flippety-flop going on in the stern-house, and I slipped out a handspike. Then the skipper sees me.

"'There's a drowned man crawling round the cabin with water running off him,' he says.

"Then a head came out of the scuttle and a wet arm, and a voice that didn't sound quite like a drowned man's says, 'Oh you----'"

Acton raised his arm restrainingly, and the narrator made a sign of comprehension.

"He called us fools," the man explained, "and for 'most a minute the skipper was going to take the axe to him. Then he hove it at the mate for being scared instead, and they all went down together, and I heard them light the stove. After that I went back and dropped off to sleep, and the skipper sent me off at sun-up to fetch the stranger's clothes.

We set him ash.o.r.e as soon as he'd got some breakfast into him."

The man rowed away in another minute or two, and, as he had evidently told his story with a relish, Nasmyth wondered whether Martial had contrived to offend him by endeavouring to purchase his silence. There are, of course, men one can offer a dollar to on that coast, but such an act requires a certain amount of circ.u.mspection.

Acton's eyes twinkled, and the men who were his guests looked at one another meaningly.

"Well," answered one of them, "I guess there is an explanation, though I didn't think Martial was that kind of man."

Nasmyth said nothing, but he saw Mrs. Acton's face flush with anger and disdain, and surmised that it was most unlikely that she would forgive the unfortunate Martial. The women in the party evidently felt that it would not be advisable to say anything further about the matter, and when George broke out the anchor the _Tillic.u.m_ steamed away.

It was after supper that night, and there was n.o.body except the helmsman on deck, when Miss Hamilton approached the forward scuttle where Nasmyth sat with his pipe in his hand. Nasmyth rose and spread out an old sail for her, and she sat down a little apart from him. The _Tillic.u.m_ was steaming northwards at a leisurely six knots, with her mastheads swaying rhythmically through the soft darkness, and a deep-toned gurgling at her bows. By-and-by Nasmyth became conscious that Miss Hamilton was looking at him, and, on the whole, he was glad that it was too dark for her to see him very well.

"I wonder if you were very much astonished at what you heard about Mr.

Martial?" she asked.

"Well," said Nasmyth reflectively, "in one way at least, I certainly was. You see, I did not think Martial was, as our friend observed, that kind of man. In fact, I may admit that I feel reasonably sure of it still."

"I suppose you felt you owed him that?"

"I didn't want to leave you under a misapprehension."

There was silence for half a minute, and then Nasmyth turned towards the girl again.

"You are still a little curious about the affair?" he suggested.

"I am. I may mention that I found a certain dress of mine, which I do not remember tearing, had evidently been repaired by somebody quite unaccustomed to that kind of thing. Now there were, of course, only the skipper and yourself on board while we were away."

Nasmyth felt his face grow hot. "Well," he replied, "if it's any consolation to you, I am quite prepared, in one respect at least, to vindicate Martial's character. In any case, I think I shall have an interview with Mrs. Acton to-morrow."

His heart beat a little faster, for the girl laughed.

"It really wouldn't be any consolation at all to me," she admitted.

"Ah," said Nasmyth, "then, although you may have certain fancies, you are not dreadfully vexed with me?"

Violet Hamilton appeared to reflect. "Considering everything, I almost think you can be forgiven."

After that, they talked about other matters for at least an hour, while the _Tillic.u.m_, with engines throbbing softly, crept on through the darkness, and Acton, who happened to notice them as he lounged under the companion scuttle with a cigar in his hand, smiled significantly. Acton had a liking for Nasmyth, and though he was not sure that Mrs. Acton would have been pleased had she known where Miss Hamilton was, the matter was, he reflected, after all, no concern of his.

CHAPTER XVI