Free The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Other Jazz Age Stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald Page B

somewhere.”
    â€œAre you sure they know about the channel? They may be only standing by to take a look at the island in the morning. From where they are they couldn’t see the opening in the cliff.”
    â€œThey could with field-glasses,” he said hopelessly. He looked at his wrist-watch. “It’s nearly two now. They won’t do anything until dawn, that’s certain. Of course there’s always the faint possibility that they’re waiting for some other ship to join; or for a coaler.”
    â€œI suppose we may as well stay right here.”
    The hours passed and they lay there side by side, very silently, their chins in their hands like dreaming children. In back of them squatted the negroes, patient, resigned, acquiescent, announcing now and then with sonorous snores that not even the presence of danger could subdue their unconquerable African craving for sleep.
    Just before five o’clock Babe approached Carlyle. There were half a dozen rifles aboard the Narcissus he said. Had it been decided to offer no resistance? A pretty good fight might be made, he thought, if they worked out some plan.
    Carlyle laughed and shook his head.
    â€œThat isn’t a Spic army out there, Babe. That’s a revenue boat. It’d be like a bow and arrow trying to fight a machine-gun. If you want to bury those bags somewhere and take a chance on recovering them later, go on and do it. But it won’t work—they’d dig this island over from one end to the other. It’s a lost battle all round, Babe.”
    Babe inclined his head silently and turned away, and Carlyle’s voice was husky as he turned to Ardita.
    â€œThere’s the best friend I ever had. He’d die for me, and be proud to, if I’d let him.”
    â€œYou’ve given up?”
    â€œI’ve no choice. Of course there’s always one way out—the sure way—but that can wait. I wouldn’t miss my trial for anything—it’ll be an interesting experiment in notoriety. ‘Miss Farnam testifies that the pirate’s attitude to her was at all times that of a gentleman.’ ”
    â€œDon’t!” she said. “I’m awfully sorry.”
    When the color faded from the sky and lustreless blue changed to leaden gray a commotion was visible on the ship’s deck, and they made out a group of officers clad in white duck, gathered near the rail. They had field-glasses in their hands and were attentively examining the islet.
    â€œIt’s all up,” said Carlyle grimly.
    â€œDamn!” whispered Ardita. She felt tears gathering in her eyes.
    â€œWe’ll go back to the yacht,” he said. “I prefer that to being hunted out up here like a ’possum.”
    Leaving the plateau they descended the hill, and reaching the lake were rowed out to the yacht by the silent negroes. Then, pale and weary, they sank into the settees and waited.
    Half an hour later in the dim gray light the nose of the revenue boat appeared in the channel and stopped, evidently fearing that the bay might be too shallow. From the peaceful look of the yacht, the man and the girl in the settees, and the negroes lounging curiously against the rail, they evidently judged that there would be no resistance, for two boats were lowered casually over the side, one containing an officer and six bluejackets, and the other, four rowers and in the stern two gray-haired men in yachting flannels. Ardita and Carlyle stood up, and half unconsciously started toward each other. Then he paused and putting his hand suddenly into his pocket he pulled out a round, glittering object and held it out to her.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked wonderingly.
    â€œI’m not positive, but I think from the Russian inscription inside that it’s your promised bracelet.”
    â€œWhere—where on earth——”
    â€œIt came out of one of those bags. You see, Curtis Carlyle and his Six Black