"There is nothing to do now, sir," whispered the First. "Shall we hand over to the Second—he is a happy teetotaller—and go ashore—for a stroll?"
"I think that we might," replied the Skipper judicially. "I think that we might. For a stroll. After all those hours on the bridge my legs are powerful stiff."
The boat which took the Skipper and First Officer for their stroll also contained Willie and John Clifford. No one except the officers' steward had seen John Clifford since he came aboard. He lived in the seclusion of his cabin aft, to which retreat sustenance was borne by the not unkindly steward. Clifford during the voyage on a hostile ship desired nothing so much as forgetfulness of his presence—the steward always excepted.
An hour or so after the others had gone, Madame had herself put ashore in the motor launch, and went up to Grant's office. The banker received her at once, and she found him much agitated.
"Willatopy has been here, yet told me little," said he. "He made a larger demand upon me for money than he has done hitherto, and, though he is a minor, I felt unable to refuse. As trustee, I have invested the Topy funds for years, and the family of Baru are much richer than they realise. I noticed a very marked change in Willatopy, a most lamentable change. Tell me everything, Madame Gilbert."
"He is not Willatopy any longer. He is William, Lord Topsham."
"So I suspected. Now I fear the worst. I warned you to sail away in your accursed yacht and trouble the boy no more."
Madame told all that she knew, all that I have told in this book. She described, with genuine emotion, her happy days on the Island of Tops, her friendship with the simple brown family, the shark hunt, and the wild fishing on the Barrier Reef. When she came to the casting up of the Hedge Lawyer on the peaceful strand of Baru, her listener groaned. "Wheresoever the carcass is there will the vultures be gathered together." She explained eagerly, anxiously—for she valued the good opinion of this honest Scotsman—how she had tried to win the confidence of Willatopy, and to set at naught the unscrupulous seductions of the legal poacher. She admitted failure. She showed how Willatopy had been led astray, first, by the visit in the yawl to Thursday Island, and the introduction to port and cherry brandy—("He never came near me then," ejaculated Grant)—and, secondly, by the wiles of the French girl Marie. She ended by declaring that Willie, godless—for he had spurned his gods—was on his way to England.
"He has come ashore," said she, "to buy clothes and shoes."
"And Clifford has come to buy drink," added Grant. "Among you all you have ruined my poor boy. He was a brave honest lad, and you are making of him a devil. I could bring myself to curse you, Madame Gilbert."