To go forward without a clue would be folly, as well as unfair to my
father, whom my two shots must have alarmed. I decided therefore to
retreat, but first to mount a craggy pile of granite some fifty yards
on my left, which would give me not only a better survey of the bush,
but perhaps even a view over the tree-tops and down upon the bay
where the _Gauntlet_ lay at anchor. If so, by the movements on board
I might learn whether or not my father had reached her with his
commands before taking my alarm.
The crags were not easy to climb: but, having hitched the musket in
my bandolier, I could use both hands, and so pulled myself up by the
creepers which festooned the rock here and there in swags as thick as
the _Gauntlet's_ hawser. Disappointment met me on the summit.
The trees allowed me but sight of the blue horizon; they still hid
the shores of the bay and our anchorage. My eminence, however,
showed me a track, fairly well defined, crossing the _macchia_ and
leading back to the wood.
I was conning this when a shout in my rear fetched me right-about
face. Towards me, down and across the farther ridge I saw a man
running--Nat Fiennes!
He had caught sight of me on my rock against the skyline, and as he
ran he waved his arms frantically, motioning to me to run also for
the woods.
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