Solomon's plans were quite well-defined, once he stated them. He intended to go up-coast to old Fort St. Thomas by launch, sending a party of Arabs around by land; the natives would be easily sent away, leaving Krausz with six Germans and Jenson.
The last-named would be either given up or taken by force, and Krausz could get back to Melindi and Mombasa as best he might, while with their men Solomon and Hammer dug up the ruins.
Sara Helmuth insisted that she be of the party also, and since there was no great danger to be apprehended, Solomon consented.
He bade Hammer keep the little silver ring, saying that most of the natives knew the emblem and that it might prove of help to him at some future time.
Frankly mystified, Hammer questioned the man directly as to who and what he was; but Solomon merely laughed and waved a hand complacently.
"Easy, sir—easy! A man as asks too much gets less'n 'e asks, I says; it ain't in 'uman nature to be answerin' of questions, I says, but Lud, there's few men as understands 'uman nature, Mr. 'Ammer! Ship's stores, me line is, Mr. 'Ammer, and I 'as me little shop in Port Said all neat and ship-shape like, where I'll be mortal glad to receive ye on 'appier occasions, sir and miss."
Hammer gave up questioning his ex-supercargo. Sara Helmuth proved to know no more than did he himself, but he had talked much with her of other things, striving to gain something of her poise and perfect self-confidence. For the American was in deadly fear of himself.
With each day the old bitterness had been surging back into his heart, driving him to action no matter what it might be. Harcourt's death had been a sore stroke to him, and yet—even more than he could comprehend—the presence and friendship of Sara Helmuth had upborne him and kept him from the brooding which had proven his undoing in time past.
He listened without interest as Solomon questioned the girl about the old fort and her preliminary work in getting it cleared of brush and trees. As she replied to his queries, Hammer saw a frown slowly gathering on Solomon's pudgy face; then the little man pulled out his clay pipe and tobacco and began to whittle thoughtfully.
"All werry good, miss," he declared finally, "but I'm mortal sorry as 'ow you 'ad all that work for nothing."