The nurse remembered suddenly about that other woman and "the kiddies." Sanderson thought of his brother's warning: "A man in your position has no business to try to tie up any woman's affections."
He released her hand and the lowered lashes hid from him the light that shone in Belinda's eyes.
"Mon Dieu!" said Aunt Roberta, aroused from her stupor, "if once we arrive in that so dear France, never will I step foot upon the sea again—non!"
"Pshaw!" interjected Captain Dexter, rejoining, them at this moment. "You mustn't mind a little thing like a submarine. Anyway, when the war is over, the sea will be perfectly safe."
"Merci, Monsieur!" gasped Aunt Roberta. "Can the dreadful ocean be ever safe?"
"Why not?" demanded Captain Dexter stoutly. "Jack was probably right when he said in a living gale: 'God help the poor folks ashore to-night!' On shipboard you don't have to worry about chimney bricks or roof tiles blowin' off in a bit of a gale and knockin' you down. There's lots of accidents that happen ashore that couldn't possibly ketch you on board ship."
"Like being run down by an automobile," chuckled Sanderson.
"Or fallin' out of one of your pesky airships," retorted the Yankee shipmaster. "By Hannah! I've sailed the seas for sixty years—and look at me. Ain't never been killed yet."
"Ah, le capitaine," murmured the little Frenchwoman, "is so brave! But poor weak womankind must tremble at such awful events as this that has just happened. Ah! those terrible Germans! They are sea-tigers!"
"I'd liked to have had the management of this ship for ten minutes," grumbled the Yankee shipmaster. "I believe I could have run that dogfish under. At any rate I'd have tried to."