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Unconsciously the girl reached into a glass-covered bookcase and drew forth a paper volume. Then she tore open the message and commenced to read it with the aid of the book. Mrs. Tanner did not notice her. She sat staring into the future with a leaden heart. Such a thing as Elsa hinted at was unheard of in Freekirk Head, and she was overwhelmed. Suddenly she asked: "Why do you hate Nat Burns so?
You have on board, have you not, a man named Code Schofield, also of Freekirk Head, under arrest for the murder of a man or men on the occasion of the sinking of his schooner?" Nat scowled. "Yes," he said. "I arrested him myself in St. Pierre, Miquelon. I am a constable in Freekirk Head." "Just as we understood," remarked the officer blandly.
Then he swung his glasses to cover the dories nested amidships, and found that on them, too, new paint had obscured the name. He lowered the glasses helplessly. "Do you recognize her, Pete?" he asked. "I know most of the schooners out of Freekirk Head and St. John's, but I never saw her before." "Me neither," admitted the mate, with conviction. "I wonder what all this means?"
Instantly the old man's mind flashed back to what he had heard only a week before, which he had told Code. He stood looking after the stranger as though spell-bound, his slow mind groping vainly for some explanation of his presence in Freekirk Head.
The cook, sticking his head out of the galley, bawled: "Mug-up! First ta-a-able!" and the first table made a rush below. When the five men sat down it was the first time they had been able to relax since the evening before, when, without lights, and under headsails only, the Charming Lass had stolen out between the reefs of Freekirk Head to sea.
But he did not notice her. Instead he rushed out of the house and along the road toward Freekirk Head. The boarding-house was a full half-mile from the wharfs of the village, and after a hundred yards Burns slowed down into a rapid walk. "The fool took the bait like a dogfish," he snarled. "Lord knows where he is by this time. I'll bet Schofield is at the bottom of this."
The departure of the fleet from Grande Mignon was a sad day in the history of the island. The sun had hardly shown red and dripping from the sea when all the inhabitants were astir. Men from as far south as Seal Cove and Great Harbor clattered up the King's Road in rickety vehicles, accompanied by their families and their dunnage. In Freekirk Head alone less than ten men would be left ashore.
Andrew's, Nat, relieved of responsibility, ran over to Grande Mignon and into the harbor of Freekirk Head. His purpose in this was twofold, and treacherous in both cases. First he lost no time in spreading the details of how Code Schofield had been captured in a drunken brawl at St. Pierre and was fighting the jailers in St. Andrew's.
Mallaby," said the detective, and called the Freekirk Head jailer. "But I know who is going to take Schofield's place." He glared at Nat Burns, who cowered silent and miserable in his corner. Despite his sailing as Nat's guest he had never brought himself to like the man, and now he was glad to be well rid of him.
During his day's stay in Freekirk Head he had received a great bag of mail for the men of the fleet from their women-folk at home, and this he had in his cabin, now all distributed and tied into bundles, one for each schooner, so that they could be easily sorted and thrown aboard as he met them.
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