his cloak that it would have been impossible to see his face
even if the night had not been so dark as to render
precaution superfluous; nevertheless, the keen glance of
Athos perceived at once it was not Rogers who stood before
them.
“What do you want with us?” he asked of Groslow.
“I wish to inform you, my lord,” replied Groslow, with an
Irish accent, feigned of course, “that if you are looking
for Captain Rogers you will not find him. He fell down this
morning and broke his leg. But I’m his cousin; he told me
everything and desired me to watch instead of him, and in
his place to conduct, wherever they wished to go, the
gentlemen who should bring me a handkerchief tied at each
corner, like that one which you hold and one which I have in
my pocket.”
And he drew out the handkerchief.
“Was that all he said?” inquired Athos.
“No, my lord; he said you had engaged to pay seventy pounds
if I landed you safe and sound at Boulogne or any other port
you choose in France.”
“What do you think of all this?” said Athos, in a low tone
to D’Artagnan, after explaining to him in French what the
sailor had said in English.
“It seems a likely story to me.”
“And to me, too.”
“Besides, we can but blow out his brains if he proves
false,” said the Gascon; “and you, Athos, you know something
of everything and can be our captain. I dare say you know
how to navigate, should he fail us.”
“My dear friend, you guess well. My father meant me for the
navy and I have some vague notions about navigation.”
Page 488
Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“You see!” cried D’Artagnan.
They then summoned their friends, who, with Blaisois,
Mousqueton and Grimaud, promptly joined them, leaving Parry
behind them, who was to take back to London the horses of
the gentlemen and of their lackeys, which had been sold to
the host in settlement of their account with him. Thanks to
this stroke of business the four friends were able to take
away with them a sum of money which, if not large, was
sufficient as a provision against delays and accidents.
Parry parted from his friends regretfully; they had proposed
his going with them to France, but he had straightway
declined.
“It is very simple,” Mousqueton had said; “he is thinking of
Groslow.”
It was Captain Groslow, the reader will remember, who had
broken Parry’s head.
D’Artagnan resumed immediately the attitude of distrust that
was habitual with him. He found the wharf too completely
deserted, the night too dark, the captain too accommodating.
He had reported to Aramis what had taken place, and Aramis,
not less distrustful than he, had increased his suspicions.
A slight click of the tongue against his teeth informed
Athos of the Gascon’s uneasiness.
“We have no time now for suspicions,” said Athos. “The boat
is waiting for us; come.”
“Besides,” said Aramis, “what prevents our being distrustful
and going aboard at the same time? We can watch the
skipper.”
“And if he doesn’t go straight I will crush him, that’s
all.”
“Well said, Porthos,” replied D’Artagnan. “Let us go, then.
You first, Mousqueton,” and he stopped his friends, directing
the valets to go first, in order to test the plank leading
from the pier to the boat.
The three valets passed without accident. Athos followed
them, then Porthos, then Aramis. D’Artagnan went last, still
shaking his head.
“What in the devil is the matter with you, my friend?” said
Porthos. “Upon my word you would make Caesar afraid.”
“The matter is,” replied D’Artagnan, “that I can see upon
this pier neither inspector nor sentinel nor exciseman.”
“And you complain of that!” said Porthos. “Everything goes
as if in flowery paths.”
“Everything goes too well, Porthos. But no matter; we must
trust in God.”
As soon as the plank was withdrawn the captain took his
place at the tiller and made a sign to one of the sailors,
who, boat-hook in hand, began to push out from the labyrinth
of boats in which they were involved. The other sailor had