A slow grin appeared on Michel's face. "If he tries to scramble over the top of the rocks, he will get a broken neck in a very short time," he said. "And he certainly won't get very far, that's a fact."
"Well – you see," said Peyrol.
"And he doesn't seem strong either. He crawled out of the cabin door and got as far as the little water cask and he dipped and dipped into it. It must be half empty by now. After that he got on to his legs. I cleared out ashore directly I heard him move," he went on in a tone of intense self-approval. "I hid myself behind a rock and watched him.;;
"Quite right," observed Peyrol. After that word of commendation, Michel's face wore a constant grin.
"He sat on the after-deck," he went on as if relating an immense joke, "with his feet dangling down the hold, and may the devil take me if I don't think he had a nap with his back against the cask. He was nodding and catching himself up, with that big white head of his. Well, I got tired of watching that, and as you told me to keep out of his way, I thought I would come up here and sleep in the shed. That was right, wasn't it?"
"Quite right," repeated Peyrol. "Well, you go now into the shed. And so you left him sitting on the after-deck?"
"Yes," said Michel. "But he was rousing himself. I hadn't got away more than ten yards when I heard an awful thump on board. I think he tried to get up and fell down the hold."
"Fell down the hold?" repeated Peyrol sharply.
"Yes, notre maître. I thought at first I would go back and see, but you had warned me against him, hadn't you? And I really think that nothing can kill him."
Peyrol got down from the table with an air of concern which would have astonished Michel, if he had not been utterly incapable of observing things.