He got round to the back door, under the room where Pierre slept. He knew that he would not be out fishing then, as the weather would have prevented him.
He knocked at once. No answer came. The third time, and he heard some one moving, and presently Pierre sang out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s one you know; let me in,” answered Bill, in a low voice, for he was afraid of any one who might by chance be in the neighbourhood hearing him.
Pierre came downstairs and opened the door. Bill explained all that had happened, except about the treasure.
“You going away!” cried Pierre. “It would be madness! You will only float about till another storm arises and you will be lost.”
“You don’t know what we can do,” answered Bill. “We shall probably be picked up by one of our ships before we reach England; and, if not, we shall get on very well, provided the wind holds from the southward, and after the long course of northerly gales there’s every chance of its doing that.”
“I must consult my father before I let you go,” said Pierre.
“You would not keep us prisoners against our will,” said Bill, laughing, as if Pierre could only be in joke. “Come, call your mother and father and Jeannette, and let me wish them good-bye. I haven’t many minutes to stop, and I’ve got something to tell them, which I’ve a notion will be satisfactory.”
Pierre went to his father and mother’s and Jeannette’s rooms, and soon roused them up. They appeared somewhat in deshabille, and looked very astonished at being called out of their beds by the young Englishman.
“What is it all about?” asked Captain Turgot.