I felt that all was lost now the fellow's absence was to be discovered.
What was my astonishment to hear an answering call, and see the Dutchman's figure a blotch upon the blackness of the after-deck.
“Bring round the small boat and take Lord Clancarty ashore,” said the captain, and the seaman hastened to do so. He sprang into the small boat, released her rope, and brought her round.
“A demain, dear Paul,” cried his lordship with a hiccough. “It's curst unkind of Tony Thurot not to let you ashore on parole or permit me to wait with you.”
The boat dropped off into the darkness of the harbour, her oars thudding on the thole-pins.
“There goes a decent fellow though something of a fool,” said Thurot. “'Tis his kind have made so many enterprises like our own have an ineffectual end. And now you must excuse me, M. Greig, if I lock you into your cabin. There are too few of us on board to let you have the run of the vessel.”
He put a friendly hand upon the shoulder I shrugged with chagrin at this conclusion to an unfortunate day.
“Sorry, M. Greig, sorry,” he said humorously. “Qui commence mal finit mal, and I wish to heaven you had begun the day by finding Antoine Thurot at home, in which case we had been in a happier relationship to-night.”