While I was still staring at him, Carette’s voice came from its hiding-place—­

“It is Phil Carre come to look for me, father.  He is my good friend.  You will give him welcome.”

“Ah-ha!  Mademoiselle commands,” and the keen face softened somewhat and broke into a smile, which was still somewhat grim.  “Monsieur Phil Carre, I greet you!  I can hardly say you are welcome, as I do not care for visitors.  But since you came to get news of the little one, I promise not to kill and eat you, as you seem to expect.”

“Merci, monsieur!” I faltered.  For, from all accounts, he was quite capable of the first, though the second had not actually suggested itself to me.

“How did you come?  I did not see any boat.”

“By the Gale de Jacob.  I swam across.”

“Ma foi!  Swam across!  You have courage, mon gars;” and I saw that I had risen in his estimation.

“He swims like a fish and he has no fear,” chirped Carette from her hiding-place.

“All the same, bon Dieu, the Gouliot is no pond,” and he looked through me again.  “How old are you, mon gars?”

“Thirteen next year.”

“And what are you going to make of yourself when you grow up?”

“I don’t know.”

“For boys of spirit there are always openings,” he said, and I knew very well what he meant, and shook my head.

“Ah, so!  You are not free-traders at Belfontaine,” he laughed.  At which I shook my head again, feeling a trifle ashamed of our uncommon virtue, which could not, I thought, commend itself to so notorious a defier of preventive law.

“All the same, he is a fine man, your grandfather, and a seaman beyond most.  You will follow the sea?—­or are you for the farming?”

“The sea sure, but it will be in the trading, I expect.”

“It is larger than the farming, but not very large after all.”

“When will I be able to see Carette, m’sieur?”

“Not for ten days or so.  As soon as she is well enough I shall carry her over to Mistress Falla’s.  Then you can see her.”

“Thank you, m’sieur.  I think I will go now.”

“Going back same way?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you off.  Sure you can manage it?”

“Oh yes.  Good-bye, Carette!” as he moved towards the door.

“Good-bye, Phil!  I’ll be at Aunt Jeanne’s just as soon as I can,” piped Carette, out of the darkness of her inner room.

And Jean Le Marchant led me back across the Island to the Gale de Jacob, and stood watching me from Beleme till I scrambled in among the rocks at the foot of Saut de Juan.

That was the first time I visited Carette’s home and met her father, though her brothers I had seen at times on Sercq, viewing them from a distance with no little awe on account of the many strange stories told about them.  They were not in the habit of mixing much with the Island men, however.  They kept their own counsel and their own ways, and this aloofness did not make for good comradeship when they did come across.