“No,” replied Denis; “we can manage that if your men will help.”
No time was lost, for the need for doing something grew more and more evident; and with the young men standing by to calm and caress each beautiful steed in turn, running nooses were placed round their fetlocks, and the ropes’ ends slipped through ring-bolt and round belaying pin, to be made fast, so that before half an hour had passed the horses were thoroughly secured, and stood staring-eyed and shivering, ready to burst out into a piteous whinnying if the young men attempted to move away.
It was a rough passage, growing worse hour after hour till nightfall, and the cares that had come upon them were so onerous that the two young men were too busy and excited to feel any qualms themselves. Not only were there the horses, but their companion below made no little call upon their attention, and in turn they descended into the rough cabin to see what they could do. But the second time that Saint Simon approached the spot where his suffering sovereign lay he was ordered back.
“Send Denis,” he said. “You go on deck again and mind that nothing happens to my horse.”
“He’s very ill,” said Saint Simon, who did not look at all sorry, but more disposed to laugh, as he joined Denis, who was dividing his attention among the three horses, and patting each in turn.
“Then why did you leave him?”
“Because he wants you. He’s ashamed to let me see how bad he is.”
“Is he so very ill then?” said Denis.
“He thinks he is; but you had better make haste down.”
Denis hurriedly went below, to find that the sea entertained not the slightest respect for the stricken monarch, who uttered a low groan from time to time, and grew less king-like in his sufferings.