"Now you lie quiet!" he commanded. "Don't stir an eyelid till I give you leave!"
The porthole was shut, and the atmosphere close and stuffy. Toby put forth an appealing hand and clung to his protector's sleeve.
"Mayn't I come on deck, sir?" he murmured anxiously. "Please, sir!"
"No," said Saltash.
Toby said no more, but his fingers fastened like a bird's claw on the man's arm, and he shivered.
"You're frightened!" said Saltash.
"No, sir! No, sir!" he protested.
"Yes, you are. You needn't bother to lie to me. I always know." Saltash's voice held an odd note of comradeship. "Beastly sensation, isn't it? Have some more brandy!"
Then, as Toby refused, he sat down abruptly on the edge of the couch and thrust an arm out to him. Toby crept to him then like a nervous dog and trembled against his side.
"Little ass!" said Saltash again. "Been lying here sweating with terror, have you? There's nothing whatever to sweat about. She's as safe as houses."