Almost tearfully, grateful because, at last, he had someone able to
understand, Baptiste turned his machine-gun rattle of French on Hans.
Ramsay watched the Dutch fisherman's face tighten, and then it was set
in white-hot anger. He waited for Baptiste to finish, and asked in
English, "Do you know who did it?"
"No." Having worn himself out, Baptiste lapsed naturally into English,
too. He turned his hot, angry face on the others.
Hans spoke again. "Go to Madame Fontan in Three Points," he said to
Baptiste. "Tell her that I, Hans Van Doorst, said that you are to have
the nets you need. If she has not enough woven, get them elsewhere.
Madame LeDou makes excellent seines and gill nets. Go to the store for
the rope you need, and tell them I will pay for everything. We ourselves
will come to help you drive new spiles and make new sets."
"It is good of you," Baptiste's face was still flaming with rage, "but
we cannot let the matter rest there."
"Nor can we," Hans' tone was calm and reasoning, "go about shooting
people when we do not know who to shoot."
"Pah! I know! It is Devil Chad!"
"Have you proof of that?"
"The proof is self-evident. Who but Devil Chad would dare do such a
thing?"
"Did you see him?"
"Does one see the wise fox when he comes in the night to steal a fat
goose? No, I did not see him."
"Listen, my friend. Listen carefully. If this sort of piracy has been
started and we do not end it, we are lost. But ours will be a small
triumph if all of us get ourselves hanged. We must proceed with
caution."
"I do not like caution."
"Nevertheless, we must now employ it. We cannot rush off with guns and
shoot because we suspect. Get your nets and whatever else you need, and
start anew. When you can bring me proof of the pirates, I myself will be
the first to shoot."
"It is the stumbling way."
"It is the only way. If there is to be war, then let there be war. But
we cannot strike out blindly. To do that will be to turn every man's
hand against us. We cannot fight at all if we do not know our enemies."
For a moment the dark-visaged little Frenchman stood uncertainly. Then
he looked directly at Hans. "I will do as you say," he agreed. "But
should I catch anyone at my nets, they or I will not live to speak of it
afterwards."
"The same will happen should I catch anyone at our nets," Hans promised.
"But let us catch them before we act."
Baptiste LeClaire swept his hat off, made a courtly bow, murmured, "Your
health, Madame and Messieurs," and turned back toward the pier. Expertly
handled, the _Bon Homme_ sailed gracefully into the lake. Astonished,
Ramsay stared at Hans, and Pieter and Marta reflected his astonishment.
"What's got him by the ear?" Ramsay asked.
"Baptiste," Hans said, "had three pound nets which he tended with pound
boats. He had a number of gill nets which he visited with the _Bon
Homme_, a proper gill net boat."
Hans stared out on the lake, as though seeking the answer to some
question that plagued him. He turned to face the others.
"Baptiste has no more pound nets. They have all been raised and ripped
to shreds. The spiles to which he attached them were broken. Of the
gill nets he once had, one remains. The rest were destroyed. Aside from
his years of labor, Baptiste has lost more than two thousand dollars'
worth of nets."
"Who did it?" Ramsay gasped.
Hans shrugged. "Someone who has discovered, at last, that there is money
to be had in Lake Michigan fishing. Someone who will stop at nothing to
get all of it for himself."