H. Bedford-Jones

Summary

H. Bedford-Jones The Barren Islands — Chapter 2 (1924)

Loafing on the wharf beside a towering pile of fowl-crates, smoking and flinging an occasional order to the men, was the mate Yusuf, now in command.
Trenchard glanced at the bows of the schooner, saw the eyes painted there, Arab style, and paused beside Yusuf, who ignored his presence. Trenchard did not miss the men, some in uniform and some not, who were scattered all along the wharves, keeping an eye on things; they might be watching for escaped criminals such as Berry or Forillon, they might be alert to anything of a suspicious nature.
Source: Wikisource

H. Bedford-Jones The Barren Islands — Chapter 2 (1924)

Trenchard frowned, hesitated. Sight of that gunboat had unsteadied him. This Hindu did not know his name, there was no reason to suspect anything amiss, and yet he had instinctive certainty that somehow he had put his foot into a trap—not here under this roof, but in Soalala.
“Tonight,” he said slowly, “I am going away in a boat; it is arranged for, when darkness falls. There is a white man here whom I am to take away with me. His name is Forillon, and he is in hiding. Have you any news of him?”
Ram Das dissented. “None, sahib. If it is your pleasure, I will inquire. You wish to see him?”
Source: Wikisource

H. Bedford-Jones The Barren Islands — Chapter 2 (1924)

A man more impatient, less master of himself, might yet have ruined everything; but not John Trenchard. He turned away, watched the town ahead, listened to the bells clanging below, waited by the open gangway as the little boat banged in at the wharf and lines were flung. Then he was out and ashore with his bag, and beckoning a rickshaw.
“Hotel Paris.”
He rode on through the town—a Hindu and Arab town with its arched windows and doors, its lintels and door-posts elaborately carved in Bombay and brought here for installation, its throngs of stately Arabs and bustling Hindus.
Source: Wikisource

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