The Englishman knew too well with whom he was dealing to harbour any ill-feeling against the ignorant fishermen or even towards the Abbé Drucquer for the rough treatment he had received. The former were poor, and money never was beaten by a scruple in open combat yet. The latter, he rightly presumed, was only obeying a mandate he dared not dispute. The authority was to him Divine, the command came from one whom he had sworn to look up to and obey as the earthly representative of his Master.
At length the deck was cleared, and order reigned on board, though the mainsail could not be set until the weather moderated.
Then Hoel Grall came up to the young Englishman and said:
“Monsieur, let us carry the 'patron' down below. It is not right for the dead to lie there in this wind and storm.”
“I am willing,” answered Christian, looking towards the spot where the dead man lay.
“Then, perhaps—Monsieur,” began the Breton with some hesitation.
“Yes,” answered Christian encouragingly, “what is it?”
“Perhaps Monsieur will speak to—to the Abbé. It is that we do not like to disturb him in prayer.”
The young Englishman bowed his head with characteristic decision.
“I will do so,” he said gravely. Then he crawled across the deck and touched René Drucquer's shoulder. The priest did not look up until the touch had been repeated.