La Belle Arlésienne was heading now N.N.W., and there, away on the sky-line, traced as if with a fine brush, the palm tops of Skeleton Island caught his eye. The beach would be visible from the maintop, but from here one could only see the trees as yet.
Gaspard, as he gazed, could hear the voice of Sagesse giving orders, the clicking of the rudder chains, and then the palms swung slowly out of sight as the vessel altered her course and jib and foresail clouded them.
He dropped on to the deck.
“Well,” said Sagesse, coming up, “La Belle Arlésienne is not late at the rendezvous. She knows her way about, does La Belle. We will be at our anchorage in an hour, and then it will be work, my brave, for you and me. Come, let us have breakfast. We’ll have little enough time for meals once the anchor is down, for I intend to have the boat and gear across that island by sunset; then to-morrow morning the real business will begin.”
They passed into the deck-house, where the cook was already laying the table, and were soon seated opposite to one another before a dish of bananas fried with bacon and a can of hot coffee.
They talked as they ate, and laughed. Sagesse, in the highest spirits, sketched out his plan of campaign, and Gaspard could not but admire the thoroughness of the man, for he had forgotten nothing, and had thought out the whole business to the minutest detail. Not only had a boat to be fetched across the island to the lagoon and the pump and gear to fix in the boat, but a shelter had to be built in which to keep the diving-dresses and the perishable rubber connections from the sun when not in use.
“You see,” said Sagesse, “this may be a job of weeks, and we must land enough food for the working party right off, so as not to be making journeys to the vessel. There is water, you say?”
“Yes, there is a spring.”
“You told me you left a tent.”
“A boat sail we made a tent of.”