"You talk commonplaces," he cried. "Tell me next that the sun is shining."
And I was constrained to rise and bow my acknowledgments for the twin compliment.
"But she is one of the richest," Monsieur Roché continued. "Money can be no inducement."
"To serve France?" Monsieur Vicenne hazarded.
"And the love of adventure," I added. "Monsieur, I will do my best. If I am successful, I will claim as my reward that the first boat built upon this invention shall be named after me."
"L'Incomparable," suggested M. Vicenne.
"Merci, monsieur, mais non, 'L'Aide.'"
I had started on my journey before I had seriously considered what a mad-brained scheme I had taken in hand. I, who knew nothing of such things, was about to attempt to persuade where the whole diplomatic tact of French administrators had failed. I was to be a bidder for this wonderful boat that had startled the world; appearing to-day at Ostend, to-morrow a thousand miles away, and all the power in the hands of a man who was deaf to entreaty, impervious to persuasion.
The experts of the navy had pleaded to be allowed to inspect the boat. His answer had been, "Keep level with it, and watch."
"Keep level, and watch"—it was a pleasant satire. England's latest toy, the Turbina, steamed only thirty-four knots an hour, and there were those who swore that this submarine boat at times got near to sixty.