"The main woods road, yes: but that is far too well patrolled. Without the countersign, you would be caught or shot a dozen times before you reached the end of it."
"Ah, well!"—with the sigh of a philosopher—"then I presume there's no way out but by swimming."
"Over to the beach you mean? Well, what then? You have got a twenty-mile walk either way through deep sand sure to betray your footprints. At dawn we follow and bag you at our leisure."
"You are discouraging!" Lanyard complained. "I see I may as well go below and be good. It's a dull life."
"Tell you what," giggled the lieutenant, leading his prisoner to the conning-tower hatch and lowering his voice: "do just that, go below and be nice, and presently I will come back and we'll split a bottle. What do you say to that, eh?"
"Colossal!"
"Not a bad notion, is it? I like it myself. One gets weary for the society of a gentleman, you've no idea…. As soon as my commander is drunk enough, I will slip away. How's that?"
"Grossartig!" Lanyard approved, turning to descend.
"Wait. You shall see for yourself what it means to have the friendship of a man of my stamp." The lieutenant raised his voice, addressing the anchor watch: "Attention. Heed with care: this gentleman is my friend. He is detained merely as a matter of form. I do not wish him to be annoyed. Do you understand? You are to leave him to himself as long as he remains quietly below. But he is not to come on deck again till I return. Is all that clear, imbeciles?"
The imbeciles, saluting mechanically, indicated glimmerings of comprehension.