THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN
in his arm chair by the fire?
My father leaned forward and thrust something into my hand.
"A pistol, Henry," he said. "Put it inside your shirt. It will be a souvenir for you when you are home again."
We could hear the waves slapping against the vessel's sides, and the orders from the deck above us. As I looked, it seemed a perilous distance away.
"Alongside, Brutus," said my father.
Two lanterns cast a feeble glow on the sheets of water that rolled under us, shouldering our frail boat impatiently in their haste to move along. Brutus pulled an oar sharply. I saw a ladder dangling perilously from the bulwarks. I saw Brutus seize it, and then our boat, arrested and stationary, began to toss madly in ill-concerted_ effort. My father sprang up, balancing himself lightly and accurately against each sudden roll.
"Now, Mademoiselle," he said, "we will get on deck. Brutus will carry you up quite safely. Hold the ladder, Henry, hold to it, or we may be in the water again."
His voice was still coldly precise, not raised even to a higher pitch.
"You are chilled, my son?" he asked.
[214]
