It shall be so.
Away went Gobal four months ago, and I get a letter from him weeks past,
just after Pentecost, to say he would be here some time in the first of
July, with the man.
"Well, it is a great game. The man is a pirate, but it does not matter--
he has paid for that. I thought you would be glad of a fine adventure
like that, so I said to you, Come."
"But, father--"
"If you do not like you can go on with Gobal in the Free-and-Easy, and
you shall be landed at the Isle of Days. That's all. We're waiting here
for Gobal. He promised to stop just outside this bay and land our man on
us. Then, blood of my heart, away we go after the treasure!"
Joan's eyes flashed. Adventure was in her as deep as life itself. She
had been cradled in it, reared in it, lived with it, and here was no law-
breaking. Whose money was it? No one's: for who should say what ship it
was, or what people were robbed by Brigond and those others? Gold--that
was a better game than wine and brandy, and for once her father would be
on a cruise which would not be, as it were, sailing in forbidden waters.
"When do you expect Gobal?" she asked eagerly. "He ought to have been
here a week ago. Maybe he has had a bad voyage, or something."
"He's sure to come?"
"Of course. I found out about that. She's got a big consignment to
people in Quebec.
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