"Hold tight," I said, "while I see if anything's wrong!"
But I did not leave her side, knowing exactly what had happened. We had snapped our mainsheet, that was all; letting the boom swing out and putting us in the trough of the waves where we might expect a few wobbly minutes until the sailors could work in a new line. There was no danger and I reassured her at once, but she merely asked:
"Was my father on deck?"
"I didn't look," I answered, wondering why she thought I knew.
"Won't you see?" Her patience was becoming exhausted.
"I'm crazy to. But first let me help you back—you can't make it alone!"
"Oh, yes, I can," she murmured. "I always make things alone!"
I tried to fathom the meaning of this, but gave it up and started to go on deck. If I could take her father off to one side and explain, well and good. He would perhaps sympathize with my mistake when he understood that it was partially the result of a desire to fill Monsieur with spirits. Considering this, I spoiled everything by asking:
"What does he look like?"
"My father?" she gasped, in a wondering way.