“She’s going to faint, pardieu!” said Tremaine.
But she did not faint; instead she made a funnel of her hands and shouted a last message back at us.
Tremaine nodded as though he understood and waved his hand.
“Did you catch what she said?” he asked.
“No, not a word of it. That tug over there whistled just then.”
“I caught the word ‘lit.’ She probably wants to know how many she’ll have to get ready—but no matter,” and he turned to me with an expressive little shrug.
“Why? Isn’t the committee really going to Martinique?”
“Oh, a couple of engineers are going to look over the ground and report.”
“And you?”
“I shall stay here.” He waved his handkerchief again at the receding boat, then passed it across his forehead. “That takes a big load off my mind, Mr. Lester, I tell you, to get her safely off and be alive to tell the tale. I rather expected her to stick a knife into me last night. I made a great mistake in bringing her with me.”
“But I thought you said”
“Oh, they do laugh and forget in time; but just at first they naturally feel badly. Now, before the voyage is over, I dare say Cecily will have another doudoux—some handsome Creole returning home, perhaps. She’s a magnificent woman, just the same,” he added.
