In another minute the leading canoe had reached the spot, the other canotiers voluntarily abandoning the quest,—for it was little use to contend against Maximilien and Stéphane, who had won all the canoe contests last 14th of July. Stéphane, who was the better diver, plunged.
He was much longer below than usual, came up at quite a distance, panted as he regained the canoe, and rested his arms upon it. The water was so deep there, he could not reach the coin the first time, though he could see it: he was going to try again,—it was gold, sure enough.
—"Fouinq! ça fond içitt!" he gasped.
Maximilien felt all at once uneasy. Very deep water, and perhaps sharks. And sunset not far off! The La Guayra was diminishing in the offing.
—"Boug-là 'lé fai nou néyé!—laissé y, Stéphane!" he cried. (The fellow wants to drown us. Laissé—leave it alone.)
But Stéphane had recovered breath, and was evidently resolved to try again. It was gold!
—"Mais ça c'est lò!"
—"Assez, non!" screamed Maximilien. "Pa plongé ncò, moin ka di ou! Ah! foute!"...
Stéphane had dived again!
... And where were the others? "Bon-Dié, gadé oti yo yé!" They were almost out of sight,—tiny specks moving shoreward.... The La Guayra now seemed no bigger than the little packet running between St. Pierre and Fort-de-France.