“This is very bad, Denis,” he said, “and it doesn’t seem fair. Why am I ill, and you going about as if we were on dry land?”
“I wish I could suffer for you, my master,” said the lad earnestly.
“Thank you. That’s very good,” said the King; “but unfortunately you can’t. Denis, my lad, it takes all the bravery out of a man when he is like this. Do you think the shipmaster would call it cowardly if I were to send word for him to turn the vessel round and make sail back for Havre de Grâce?”
“I don’t think he would notice it, my—Comte,” said Denis earnestly; “but I don’t think he could do it now.”
“Why?” cried the King.
“Because the wind is growing stronger, and blowing hard from behind, driving us fast for the other coast; and even if he could turn we should not get back.”
“No,” said the King. “But this is very horrible, Denis, my lad.—Are the horses safe?”
“Yes, sir, quite.”
“Ah! that’s right,” moaned the King. “Say sir, not Sire, on your life.”
Boomp! Rush!