“Then, around noon, we could go into Trinité. You and Biff could see about supplies. I’d like to spend my afternoons searching for my father. I’m more anxious to find him than to locate the pearl fishery.”
“We all are, Derek. And I think your plan’s a good one. We could even spend the night at the Sans Souci if we got any leads that would take more than one afternoon to follow.”
“That’s what I thought. Martinique’s not too big an island, but there are many wild, unsettled places on it. I have a feeling that if my father is still alive, he’s up in the hills somewhere.”
“Now, Derek, there’s no reason to believe your father’s not alive,” Biff said softly.
Derek didn’t answer at once. When he did, his voice trembled slightly.
“There’s one thing I learned that I didn’t tell you.” He paused. “There was a storm, a chabasco, about the time my father disappeared. I learned that, three days after the chabasco, parts of his boat were washed ashore south of here. Near Le Vauclin.”
Neither Biff nor his uncle replied. They knew what Derek’s fear was. His father might have lost his life in the storm.
“No one knows, though,” Derek went on hopefully, “or seems to remember, whether the chabasco struck before or after my father was last seen in Trinité.”
“You mean when he mailed us our letters?” Uncle Charlie asked.
“Yes,” was Derek’s one-word reply.