“Fast asleep still,” replied Denis.
“Best thing for a man not used to the sea. Well, you see, we shall get your horses over safely. Poor beasts! They are worse sailors than men. How are you? Feel as if you could eat some breakfast?”
“Yes, I’m getting horribly hungry.”
“That’s right. You are the best sailor of the lot. There will be some in an hour’s time.”
The skipper passed on, leaving Denis with a look of disgust upon his features, for he was thinking of the roughness of the common vessel upon which they had been obliged to take their passage, and the pleasant meal of which he would have eaten at Fontainebleau.
Just then Saint Simon turned, caught sight of him, and signalled to him to come. Denis started, hesitated, and then ran down into the cabin again to see whether the King had awakened. But far from it: he was flat on his back and looking far from king-like, for his mouth was open and he was giving forth sounds which in a common person would have been called snores.
Hurrying back to the deck, Denis ran forward, awakening to the fact that the sea was much smoother, for he could not have progressed like that over-night.
“Well, how are you?” he cried.
“Beginning to get dry,” was the morose reply. “Look here, boy, if I had known that I was going to play horse-keeper all through a night like this I wouldn’t have volunteered to come. I shall want a week’s sleep to put me straight.”
“Why didn’t you ask one or two of the sailors to come and help you?”