“I understand,” I said softly.  “Very well, Dominic.  When?”

“Not yet.  We must get a little more in first,” answered the voice from the hood in a ghostly murmur.

XLV.

It was settled.  I had now the courage to turn about.  Our men crouched about the decks here and there with anxious, crestfallen faces, all turned one way to watch the chaser.  For the first time that morning I perceived Cesar stretched out full length on the deck near the foremast and wondered where he had been skulking till then.  But he might in truth have been at my elbow all the time for all I knew.  We had been too absorbed in watching our fate to pay attention to each other.  Nobody had eaten anything that morning, but the men had been coming constantly to drink at the water-butt.

I ran down to the cabin.  I had there, put away in a locker, ten thousand francs in gold of whose presence on board, so far as I was aware, not a soul, except Dominic had the slightest inkling.  When I emerged on deck again Dominic had turned about and was peering from under his cowl at the coast.  Cape Creux closed the view ahead.  To the left a wide bay, its waters torn and swept by fierce squalls, seemed full of smoke.  Astern the sky had a menacing look.

Directly he saw me, Dominic, in a placid tone, wanted to know what was the matter.  I came close to him and, looking as unconcerned as I could, told him in an undertone that I had found the locker broken open and the money-belt gone.  Last evening it was still there.

“What did you want to do with it?” he asked me, trembling violently.

“Put it round my waist, of course,” I answered, amazed to hear his teeth chattering.

“Cursed gold!” he muttered.  “The weight of the money might have cost you your life, perhaps.”  He shuddered.  “There is no time to talk about that now.”

“I am ready.”

“Not yet.  I am waiting for that squall to come over,” he muttered.  And a few leaden minutes passed.

The squall came over at last.  Our pursuer, overtaken by a sort of murky whirlwind, disappeared from our sight.  The Tremolino quivered and bounded forward.  The land ahead vanished, too, and we seemed to be left alone in a world of water and wind.

“Prenez la barre, monsieur,” Dominic broke the silence suddenly in an austere voice.  “Take hold of the tiller.”  He bent his hood to my ear.  “The balancelle is yours.  Your own hands must deal the blow.  I—­I have yet another piece of work to do.”  He spoke up loudly to the man who steered.  “Let the signorino take the tiller, and you with the others stand by to haul the boat alongside quickly at the word.”

The man obeyed, surprised, but silent.  The others stirred, and pricked up their ears at this.  I heard their murmurs.  “What now?  Are we going to run in somewhere and take to our heels?  The Padrone knows what he is doing.”