Lepine was a sailor and nothing else. Had his character been cut out of cardboard the line of division between the sailor and the rest of the world could not have been more sharply marked. That was perhaps why the two men, though divided by a vast social gulf, were friends, almost chums.
They talked for half an hour or so on all sorts of subjects connected with the ship.
“By the way, Lepine,” said the Prince suddenly, “It has been the toss up of a sou that we are not now steering a course for New Amsterdam.”
“And how is that, monsieur?”
“Well, Mademoiselle de Bromsart proposed to me at dinner that we should alter our course, the idea came to her that some misfortune might happen to us off Kerguelen and, as you know, I am always anxious to please my guests—well, I called a quarter-master down. I was going to have sent for you.”
“Yes, but Mademoiselle de Bromsart altered her mind. She refused to let me send for you.”
“But what gave the young lady that idea?” asked the Captain.
“That big ship we sighted before dinner.”
“The three-master?”