In Which We Board the Enemy

Slowly the vast painting of the sky softened and faded until, at
length, its edges blended with the shadows of the forest. There came
into relief against the sky-line the etched outlines of the trees
crowning the bluff on the eastern side of the great river. The
oncoming darkness promised safety for a craft unimportant as ours as
we now lay in the shadows of the western shore. Meantime, as well as
the failing light allowed, we let nothing on board the Belle Helène
go unobserved.

The yacht lay--with an audacity of carelessness which I did not like
to note--hardly inside the edge of the regular shipping channel, but
swung securely and gracefully at her cable, held by an anchor which I
had devised myself, heavy enough for twice her tonnage. On the deck I
could see an occasional figure, but though I plied my binoculars
carefully, not the figure which I sought. A man leaned against the
rail, idly, smoking, but this I made out to be the engineer, Williams,
come up to get the evening air. Billy, the deck-hand, John, my Chinese
cook, and Peterson, the boat-master, were at the time out of sight,
as well as Cal Davidson, who had her under charter.

We lay thus, separated by some distance of the river's flood, each
craft at anchor, only one observed by the other. But to my impatient
gaze matters seemed strangely slow on board the Belle Helène. I was
relieved when at last the rather portly but well groomed figure of my
friend Davidson appeared on deck. He made his way aft along the rail,
and I could see him bend over and call down the companionway of the
after staterooms. Then, an instant later, he was joined on the after
deck by two ladies. The sight of one of these caused my heart to
bound.