And what had he done with this rare treasure entrusted to him? His companions, jesting among themselves, had said that he had committed a murder: in his own heart there was something at this moment of a murderer's remorse.
Johnny Eyre uttered a short cry. Lavender looked ahead and saw that some black object was disappearing among the waves.
"What a fright I got!" Eyre said with a laugh. "I never saw the fellow come near, and he came up just below the bowsprit. He came heeling over as quiet as a mouse. I say, Lavender, I think we might as well cut it now: my eyes are quite bewildered with the light on the water. I couldn't make out a kraken if it was coming across our bows."
"Don't be in a hurry, Johnny. We'll put her out a bit, and then let her drift back. I want to tell you a story."
"Oh, all right," he said; and so they put her head round, and soon she was lying over before the breeze, and slowly drawing away from those outlines of the coast which showed them where Tarbert harbor cut into the land. And then once more they let her drift, and young Eyre took a nip of whisky and settled himself so as to hear Lavender's story, whatever it might be.
"You knew I was married?"
"Yes."
"Didn't you ever wonder why my wife did not come here?"
"Why should I wonder? Plenty of fellows have to spend half the year apart from their wives: the only thing in your case I couldn't understand was the necessity for your doing it. For you know that's all nonsense about your want of funds."
"It isn't nonsense, Johnny. But now, if you like, I will tell you why my wife has never come here."