The hail was in French. It was not answered, you may be sure, from the Heavenly Home.
“Jean!”
“He’s not aboard,” spoke up the other man.
“He must be aboard. His dory’s tied to the rail. Jean! Jean Morot!”
“Come––let’s be off to the Voyageur. He’s asleep.” A pair of oars fell in the water. 153
“Come––take your oars. It’s too rough to lie here. And it’s late enough.”
“But–––”
“Take your oars!” with an oath.
The Newfoundlanders breathed easier when they heard the splash and creak and rattle receding; but they did not rise until the sounds were out of hearing, presumably in the direction of the Voyageur.