SAGESSE IS CORNERED
That night, as they sat in the tent smoking, Gaspard approached the
object of his grievance.
“Look here,” he said, “we have got the boat across the island and
afloat in the lagoon. We have got the diving apparatus in her ready for
working. Nothing remains to be done but start work to-morrow morning.”
“Yes.”
“Well, before we start work, I have a word to say.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about the terms of our agreement.”
“Yes?”
“I am to have fifteen francs out of every hundred francs you make?”
“Those were the terms.”
“Well, it seems to me not enough.”
Sagesse gave a short laugh. “How, not enough?”
“Who discovered the ship?”
“Your friend, Yves—so you told me.”
“Yes, but as a matter of fact, we both discovered it, for if he had not
done so I would have at the first low tide I was over there.”
“Well, go on,” said Sagesse. “What are you driving at?”
“I say fifteen per cent. is not enough. I want thirty.”
“Oh, you want thirty, do you?”
“Yes.”
“You want Monsieur Yves’ share as well as your own?”
“Exactly.”
“That seems to me not unjust,” said Sagesse in a meditative tone.
“I would not ask you if it were unjust.”
“Yet, it seems to me,” said Sagesse, “that the conditions accompanying
Monsieur Yves’ death make a difference. You killed this man, yet you
wish to inherit his share. How about his relations?”
“How about the relations of Pedro, whom you killed?” asked Gaspard.
“Exactly,” replied Sagesse. “You have me there, it seems; you have me
in a corner, it seems. I have only been twice before in my life held up
by obstacles. Now, do you not think it is a dangerous game to play with
me, cornering me like that?” Sagesse’s voice had a complaining tone, as
though they were talking of some trifle.
“Oh,” said Gaspard, with a smile, “I am armed.” He tapped the pocket
where the revolver was.
Sagesse’s face took on an expression of disgust, almost.
“Armed! Oh, you are only fit for the stokehold! Do you take me for a
knifer or a Chinese hatchet man? Suppose I were to kill you to-night in
your sleep, what would happen? Every man on board who knew of it would
be my master. I don’t kill.”
He spoke the truth. Captain Sagesse, though he had killed Pedro
accidentally, was no murderer. His art was quite beyond that rough
method of settling disputes and gaining money.
“Well,” said Gaspard, “kill or not kill, I am not afraid. I am fighting
for my rights.”
“And your rights you shall have.”
“You will give me the thirty per cent.?”
Sagesse nodded his head.
“Right,” said Gaspard, holding out his hand.
Sagesse took it.
“And now,” said he, “let us forget our differences and have a drink.”
He brought out a case-bottle of rum from a corner of the tent and two
mugs. They drank together, pledging each other, pledging Fortune,
Serpente, the whole world. Then Gaspard, when the carouse had lasted
some two hours, lay down on his blanket and tapped his pipe out against
his heel. But he could not sleep for a long time, or if he slept, his
dreams were so vivid as to be almost real happenings.
Men passed before the tent entrance; they were carrying parcels and
packages as though the landing party were returning to the ship. He
heard Sagesse’s voice and the voice of Jules; he heard laughter and
then he heard no more, for slumber had suddenly shut on him like the
lid of a box.