Jacques had found a natural redoubt and fortified it brilliantly. All the settlement and the harbor now were under his guns. Only
the mountain behind, a steep precipice, had any vantage over Forte de la Roche.
"Senhor, what is that?" Atiba was pointing toward the massive boulder, some fifty feet wide and thirty feet high, that rested in the center of the yard as though dropped there by the hand of God.
Winston studied it, puzzling, then noticed a platform atop the rock, with several cannon projecting out. A row of brick steps led halfway up the side, then ended abruptly. When they reached the base, de Fontenay turned back.
"The citadel above us is Jacques's personal residence, what he likes to call his 'dovecote.' It will be necessary for you to wait here while I ask him to lower the ladder."
"The ladder?"
"Mais oui, a security measure. No one is allowed up there without his consent."
He called up, identified himself, and after a pause the first rungs of a heavy iron ladder appeared through an opening in the platform. Slowly it began to be lowered toward the last step at the top of the stair.
Again de Fontenay hesitated. "Perhaps it might be best if I go first, Messieurs. Jacques is not fond of surprises."
"He never was." Winston motioned for Atiba to stay close.