"But Hervé did his best," responded Barrow. "He gave his life for Galen."
"He gave his life, sure enough," grunted the fisherman; "but he gave it unconsciously, unwillingly. It was Hervé that struck Galen the blow with the boat-hook. Every man of the crew saw it was done with purpose."
Barrow understood it all. Hervé had struck at his rival, and Galen had pulled his man overboard to perish. Thus love and jealousy flourish just as lustily in wartime as in the piping days of peace.
X—STORY OF THE MAN WHO DISAPPEARED
I met Manech Argouarch for the second time at Brest some six years ago. My friend who keeps the Civette Nantaise in the Rue de Siam—probably the only place in Brest where cigars are sold in smokable condition—has kept me informed from time to time concerning interesting items of local history. From his letters I have put together the story of Manech. When I knew the man he was a wild, dissolute fellow, but, like many vagabonds, fortune had endowed him with a charming mate. Ten years younger than Manech, she was a tiny wisp of a woman. As far as I could judge, the pair were happy together in their own way.
When the war had run its course for some months Argouarch found his fishing-boat sadly short-handed, for the crews of most of the fishing-vessels were taken as conscripts. At this juncture Elène, his wife, went aboard, and did what she could to help.
It chanced that one day in the spring of last year a gale sprang up suddenly when they were a long way out at sea. A terrific sea got up, and Manech had to heave-to as best he could, and endeavour to ride out the storm. Early in the morning the gale broke. The wind moderated sensibly, but the swell was still exceedingly heavy. Meanwhile the little boat was in a sorry plight, with one of the masts down and the rigging lying tangled over the deck.
Soon after nine o'clock in the morning Manech saw the periscope of a submarine away on the port bow. Emerging from the water, the sinister craft drew alongside, and a young German lieutenant came aboard. He wanted provisions and fresh water. Realizing the futility of resistance Manech and the boy Becsalé brought up on deck the whole of their available supplies. The German, however, was not satisfied. He said he would search the craft himself.
Elène had been instructed to hide herself in the tiny cabin, and when the German climbed down the hatchway, thinking he would probably seek to do her harm, she took up a big clasp-knife from the table and hid it in the folds of her dress. The German's search proved without avail, but he was more than interested in the pretty Elène. He seized her hand, and attempted to kiss it, but Elène wrenched herself from his grasp, and in a second stood in a corner of the cabin, holding the knife to her breast, and threatening to plunge it into her bosom if he attempted to approach. She was too terrified to scream.
Meanwhile Argouarch, who had been aloft furling a small storm stay-sail, descended into the cabin, wondering what had become of the German. When he saw his wife with the knife at her breast he hurled himself on the German in mad rage. The fight was short and fierce. Hearing the scuffle, three German sailors who were on deck hurried down, overpowered the unfortunate Manech and bore him, more dead than alive, into the submarine. Then one of their look-out men reported a vessel away on the lee bow, steaming hard towards them. It was a French destroyer. Within a few moments the submarine submerged again, and speedily disappeared from sight.