t; the harbor was the place to go to. A ship
sailing for Lisbon that afternoon had offered him the opportunity of
taking a passage for himself and his wife, and escaping me. His answer
to my challenge had served its purpose of sending me out of the way into
the interior of the island. Once more I had trusted in Fergus Ingleby,
and once more those sharp wits of his had been too much for me.
"I asked my informant if Mr. Blanchard was aware as yet of his
daughter's departure. He had discovered it, but not until the ship had
sailed. This time I took a lesson in cunning from Ingleby. Instead of
showing myself at Mr. Blanchard's house, I went first and looked at Mr.
Blanchard's yacht.
"The vessel told me what the vessel's master might have concealed--the
truth. I found her in the confusion of a sudden preparation for sea.
All the crew were on board, with the exception of some few who had been
allowed their leave on shore, and who were away in the interior of the
island, nobody knew where. When I discovered that the sailing-master was
trying in, to supply their places with the best men he could pick up at
a moment's notice, my resolution was instantly taken. I knew the duties
on board a yacht well enough, having had a vessel of my own, and having
sailed her myself. Hurrying into the town, I changed my dress for a
sailor's coat and hat, and, returning to the harbor, I offered myself as
one of the volunteer crew. I don't know what the sailing-master saw in
my face. My answers to his questions satisfied him, and yet he looked at
me and hesitated. But hands were scarce, and it ended in my being taken
on board. An hour later Mr. Blanchard joined us, and was assisted into
the cabin, suffering pitiably in mind and body both. An hour after
that we were at sea, with a starless night overhead, and a fresh breeze
behind us.
"As I had surmised, we were in pursuit of the vessel in which Ingleby
and his wife had left the island that afternoon. The ship was French,
and was employed in the timber trade: her name was _La Grace de Dieu_.
Nothing more was known of her than that she was bound for Lisbon; that
she had been driven out of her course; and that she had touched at
Madeira, short of men and short of provisions. The last want had been
supplied, but not the first. Sailors distrusted the sea-worthiness of
the ship, and disliked the look of the vagabond crew. When those two
serious facts had been communicated to Mr. Blanchard, the hard
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