“What about an expedition to the place?”
French nodded decisively.
“We must arrange one without delay,” he said. “I think the Admiralty is our hope. That gold wasn’t insured—it was a government business. I’ll go and tell the chief about it now, and get him to see the proper authorities. Meanwhile,” he looked, for French, quite sharply at the others, “not a word of this must be breathed.”
Intense interest was excited in the higher circles of the Admiralty by the news which reached them from the Yard. Great personages bestirred themselves to issue orders, with the result that with enormously more promptitude than the man in the street can bring himself to associate with a Government Department, a fast boat, well equipped with divers and gear, was got ready for sea. French put in a word for both Cheyne and Price, and when, some eight hours after their reading of the cipher, the boat put out into the Thames from Chatham Dockyard, it carried in addition to its regular crew not only Inspector French himself, but also his two protégés.
XX
The Goal of the L’Escaut
Inspector French had gone to bed in the tiny but comfortable stateroom which had been put at his disposal by the officers of the Admiralty boat while that redoubtable vessel was slipping easily and on an even keel through the calm waters of the Straits of Dover. He awoke next morning to find her plunging and rolling and staggering through what, in comparison with his previous experiences of the sea, appeared to be a frightful storm. To his surprise, however, he did not feel any bad effects from the motion, and presently he arose, and having with extreme care performed the ticklish operation of shaving, dressed and climbed with the aid of railings and handles to the companionway, and so to the deck.
The sight which met his eyes on emerging made him hold his breath, as he clung to the rail at the companion door. It was a wonderful morning, clear and bright and fresh and invigorating. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky on to a dark sapphire sea of incredible purity, flecked over with foaming patches of dazzling white. As far as the eye could reach in every direction out to the hard sharp line of the horizon, great waves rolled relentlessly onward, wavelets dancing and churning and foaming on their slow-moving flanks. The wind caught French and, as if it were a solid, held him pinned against the deckhouse. He stood watching the bluff bows of the boat rise in the air, then crash back into the sea, throwing out a smother of water and foam some of which would seep over the fo’c’sle, and after swirling through the forward deck hamper, disappear through the scuppers amidships.
For some moments he watched, then moving round the deckhouse, he glanced up and saw Cheyne and Price beckoning to him from the bridge, where they had joined the officer of the watch.
“Some morning this, Inspector,” Price cried, as he joined them in the lee of the weather canvas. “This will blow the London cobwebs out of our minds.”
He was evidently keenly enjoying himself, and even Cheyne’s anxious face showed appreciation of his surroundings. And soon French himself, having realized that they were not necessarily going to the bottom in a hurricane, but merely running down Channel in a fresh southwesterly breeze, began to feel the thrill of the sea, and to believe that the end of his quest was going to develop into a novel and delightful holiday trip.
The same weather held all that day and the next, but on the third the wind fell, and the sea gradually calmed down to a slow, easy swell. The sun grew hotter, and basking in it in the lee of the deckhouse became a delight. Little was said about the object of the expedition. French and Price were content to enjoy the present, and Cheyne managed to keep his anxieties to himself. The ship’s officers were a jolly crowd, immensely excited by their quest, and conducting themselves as the kindly hosts of welcome guests.
On the fourth day it grew still warmer, indeed out of the breeze made by the ship’s motion it was unpleasantly hot. French liked to get away forward, where it was cooler, and leaned by the hour over the bows, watching the sharp stem cut through the water and roll back in its frothing wave on either side. Dolphins were now to be seen swimming in the clear water, and two hung at the bows, one on each side, apparently motionless for long periods, until suddenly they would dart ahead, spiral round one another and then return to their places.
That fourth evening the captain joined his passengers as the trio were smoking on deck.
“If we carry on like this,” he remarked, “we should reach the position about But those beggars may be taking a risk and not showing a light, so I propose to slow down from now on, in order not to arrive till daylight. Come on deck about . If they’re here we should raise them between then and .”
French, waking early next morning, could not control his excitement and remain in his berth until the allotted time. He rose at , and went on deck with the somewhat shamefaced feeling that he was acting as a small boy, who on Christmas morning must needs get up on waking to investigate the possibilities of stockings. But he need not have feared ridicule from his companions. Both Cheyne and Price were already on the bridge, and
