I was weeping, too, for he had spoken the truth for the first time. It was I who had been deluded. How could my father—blind, a drunkard—have so clearly identified what Gideon was doing when I couldn’t see it myself?

John Smith had been watching me, his face shifting between anger and pity and impatience. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘We’re done with the lot of you. You ken be gone by mornin, thank you. Take your boat an your troubles and sail on. And you, sir’—he indicated Srinivas—‘these people say you were baiting with em for whatsisname. Didnae hear you deny it. Mebbe time you baited yerself. Go on out there and announce yerself to him. If yer right about all this, yer grudges and so forth, then he’ll come out for ye. An that’ll be the end of him.’

I knew instantly that Smith was wrong. The man had evaded Srinivas all these years, keeping him in a state of fevered searching, and he would continue to do it now. There was no prospect that Srinivas would meet the man out there on the island, on his own terms, and prevail. Either he would return empty-handed, or he would not return at all. It was my father—and, I was increasingly certain, me—that the man wanted.

But the discussion ranged back and forth for quite a while and nobody argued against the central idea. If Srinivas wanted Gideon out in the open there was only one way for him to achieve it.

~

They brought a meal and Srinivas ate, while his son watched him silently. The two lags had been sent back to the boat.

He ate sparingly and did not talk during the meal. No one joined him. He was so very alone: I could not decide whether he had earned such exile. When he was done, he washed his hands again and accepted a jacket and a rough hat from the sealers. They offered him a flensing knife and he tucked it into his belt. They gave him a fowling piece, ensuring he understood its workings. And when he indicated that he did, they filled his pockets with cartridges.

His face was calm through all of this.

I studied him, standing there armed and awkwardly waiting. I saw a man of modest size, of fine hands and light frame. And I had seen Gideon naked. I had clutched at his arms with my fingers, in the throes of pleasure. These moments were now my shame, but I knew that he was stronger by a great measure than this small, dignified man who, in going armed, sealed his fate. The weapons only looked foolish on him.

There was no point arming him any further: the weight would be a hindrance. The men stood back, surveyed their work and nodded to each other. Once again there was no reaction from Srinivas. He merely turned and faced me.