Government job, as you no doubt know
without my telling you. You would seem to have incurred the displeasure
or the distrust of some one high placed in the Government. 'Treat him
well,' they said to me. 'Give him your best, and see that he comes to no
harm unless he tries to escape. And be careful that he does not return
to France before the mackerel fishing begins.' And when we do return to
Fecamp, I have to lie to off Notre Dame de la Garde and signal to the
Douane that I have you safe. They want you out of the way. You are a
dangerous man, it seems. Salut!"

And the Captain raised his glass to one so distinguished by Government.
He laughed as he set his glass down on the little cabin table.

"No ill-feeling on either side," he added. "C'est entendu."

He made a half-movement as if to shake hands across the table and
thought better of it, remembering, perhaps, that his own palm was not
innocent of blood-money. For the rest they had been friendly enough on
the voyage. And had the "Petite Jeanne" been in danger, it is probable
that Barebone would have warned his jailer, if only in obedience to a
seaman's instinct against throwing away a good ship.

He had noted every detail, however, of the dinghy while he lay on the
deck of the "Petite Jeanne"; how the runner fitted to the mast; whether
the halliards were likely to run sweetly through the sheaves or were
knotted and would jamb. He knew the weight of the gaff and the great
tan-soddened sail to a nicety. Some dark night, he had thought, on the
Dogger, he would slip overboard and take his chance. He had never looked
for thick weather at this time of year off the Banks, so near home,
within a few hours' sail of the mouth of Farlingford River.

If a breeze would only come up from the south-east, as it almost always
does in these waters toward the evening of a still, fine day! Without
lifting his head he scanned the weather, noting that the scud was
blowing more northward now. It might only be what is known as a slant.
On the other hand, it might prove to be a true breeze, coming from the
usual quarter. The "tap-tap" of the caulker's hammer on the slip-way
in Harwich River was silent now. There must be a breeze in-shore that
carried the sound away.

The topsail of the "Petite Jeanne" filled with a jerk, and the Captain,
standing at the tiller, looked up at it. The lower sails soon took
their cue, and suddenly the slack sheets hummed taut in the breeze.
The "Petite Jean