“How deep is the water here?” said Denis eagerly.
“About a fathom. Plenty of room for you to swim.”
Denis set his teeth, walked his horse up and down once more, turned it sharply toward the gangway, and then with voice and heel urged it forward, but only to elicit a loud snort as it stood with all four feet pressed firmly on the deck.
Once more, half despairing now, Denis rode up and down again, before turning toward the open gangway, and it happened that just as he reached it a neighing challenge came afresh from the shore, sending a quiver through the charger, which snorted loudly, and then, in obedience to the rider’s voice and the pressure of his heel, rose and bounded bravely forward from the vessel’s side, out into the water, descending with a heavy splash, and then submerged all but the extended neck, and with the lad with the water rising above his hips, but firmly in his seat, bending forward and giving as if part of the brave animal that had begun swimming steadily towards the shore.
A ringing cheer rose from the vessel, was taken up by the men on the flat, and answered from the shore, while all watched the progress of horse and rider, who both seemed as if to the manner born.
“That means success, sir,” said Saint Simon eagerly. “Will you go next?”
“But I shall be so wet, man. You had better follow with my charger now.”
“Yes, sir, I will if you wish,” whispered Saint Simon; “but—this is the beginning of our adventures, and—”
“Yes,” said the King, in a voice full of vexation, “it seems so cowardly if I hang back. I am not afraid to do it, man, but I shall be so horribly drenched.”
“You can get dry, sir, when we are ashore.”