He greeted me and led me down to his cabin.
"You are plain Mr. Gerard now," said he, "and a Channel Islander.
I would be obliged to you if you would kindly forget your
military ways and drop your cavalry swagger when you walk up and
down my deck.
A beard, too, would seem more sailor-like than those moustaches."
I was horrified by his words, but, after all, there are no ladies
on the high seas, and what did it matter? He rang for the
steward.
"Gustav," said he, "you will pay every attention to my friend,
Monsieur Etienne Gerard, who makes this voyage with us. This is
Gustav Kerouan, my Breton steward," he explained, "and you are
very safe in his hands."
This steward, with his harsh face and stern eyes, looked a very
warlike person for so peaceful an employment.
I said nothing, however, though you may guess that I kept my eyes
open. A berth had been prepared for me next the cabin, which
would have seemed comfortable enough had it not contrasted with
the extraordinary splendour of Fourneau's quarters.
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