‘I pulled along the shore slowly. A black cloud hung over the Iles de Salut. I heard firing, shouts. Another hunt had begun—the convict-hunt. The oars were too long to pull comfortably. I managed them with difficulty, though the boat herself was light. But when I got round to the other side of the island the squall broke in rain and wind. I was unable to make head against it. I let her drift ashore and secured her.

‘I knew the spot. There was a tumble-down old hovel standing near the water. Cowering in there, I heard through the noises of the wind and the falling downpour some people tearing through the bushes. They came out on the strand. Soldiers perhaps. A flash of lightning threw everything near me into violent relief. Convicts.

‘And directly a voice said, “It’s a miracle.” It was the voice of Simon, otherwise Biscuit.

‘And another voice growled, ‘What’s a miracle?”

‘ “Why, there’s a boat lying here!”

‘ “You must be mad, Simon! But there is, after all.… A boat.”

‘They seemed awed into complete silence. The other man was Mafile. He spoke again, cautiously.

‘ “It is fastened up. There must be somebody here.”

‘I spoke from within the hovel: “I am here.”

‘They came in then, and soon gave me to understand that the boat was theirs, not mine. “There are two of us,” said Mafile, “against you alone.”

‘I got out into the open to keep clear of them for fear of getting a treacherous blow on the head. I could have shot them both where they stood. But I said nothing. I kept down the laughter rising in my throat. I made myself very humble and begged to be allowed to go. They consulted in low tones about my fate, while with my hand on the revolver in the bosom of my blouse I had their lives in my power. I let them live. I meant them to pull that boat. I represented to them with abject humility that I understood the management of a boat, and that, being three to pull, we could get a rest in turns. That decided them at last. It was time. A little more and I would have gone into screaming fits at the drollness of it.’

At this point his excitement broke out. He jumped off the bench and gesticulated. The great shadows of his arms darting over roof and walls made the shed appear too small to contain his agitation.

‘I deny nothing,’ he burst out. ‘I was elated, monsieur. I tasted a sort of felicity. But I kept very quiet. I took my turns at pulling all through the night. We made for the open sea, putting our trust in a passing ship. It was foolhardy. I persuaded them to it. When the sun rose the immensity of water was calm, and the Iles de Salut appeared only like dark specks from the top of each swell. I was steering then. Mafile, who was pulling bow, let out an oath and said, “We must rest.”

‘The time to laugh had come at last. And I took my fill of it, I can tell you. I held my sides and rolled, they had such startled faces. “What’s got into him, the animal?” cries Mafile.

‘And Simon, who was nearest to me, says over his shoulder to him, “Devil take me if I don’t think he’s gone mad!”

‘Then I produced the revolver. Aha! In a moment they both got the stoniest eyes you can imagine. Ha, ha! They were frightened. But they pulled. Oh yes, they pulled all day, sometimes looking wild and sometimes looking faint. I lost nothing of it because I had to keep my eyes on them all the time, or else—crack!—they would have been on top of me in a second. I rested my revolver hand on my knee all ready and steered with the other. Their faces began to blister. Sky and sea seemed on fire round us and the sea steamed in the sun. The boat made a sizzling sound as she went through the water. Sometimes