“Our wild-goose journey would be at end, for those horses would go overboard as sure as we stand here.”
“What!” cried Denis excitedly.
“What I have said. My charger is safe to make a dash for the side, and rise at it; and he’d go over like a skimming bird, and the others would follow at once.”
He had hardly spoken when the skipper of the vessel, a heavy, sun-tanned-looking man in scarlet cap, high boots and petticoat, came up to them.
“Look here, young masters,” he cried, “I don’t often take cattle in my boat, and when I do I have them slung down into the hold. My deck isn’t a safe place for beasts, and if those three don’t break loose before long I’m no shipman.”
“Then what is to be done?” cried Denis hurriedly.
“If the—” He stopped short, for Saint Simon gave him a sharp jerk with his elbow and continued his speech.
”—Comte’s horse were to be lost overboard he’d never forgive us.”
“No,” said Denis, recovering himself. “Look here, you have plenty of ropes. Call some of your men to help; we must put slip-knots round above their hoofs and tie them in different places, so that they couldn’t get away.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said the skipper. “But won’t they kick?”