Then, before you could say Jack Robinson, it was done. My life was saved. Mathilde and her mother had bustled on board and, having taken possession of a damned stateroom, had locked the door. Monsieur's carriage was soon rattling beneath the custom's office arch, on its way to Paris and the rue Saint-Dominique. A pig had escaped and was swimming away from the vessel, the mate and I had carried Lord Migraine to his cabin, and I did not complain when I understood I was to share this tiny room with him. I knew not to expect justice on a ship. Mr. Eckerd pleaded to have his pigeons stowed 'tween decks and he and his companion wept and remonstrated that the birds would die if left in the longboat where they had been consigned and in the midst of all this turbulence-a strong north wind was blowing with enough violence to raise a dreadful sea even in the bay-the tow-haired mate assured me that as the sun declined it would abate, and once we had weathered Cape Barfleur we would make a free wind down channel.

Ah, said the Human Mind, let's hope this chap knows what's what.

So I went to sit outside Mathilde's door and put my lips against the brass.

"Answer me, I'm here. I am your Parrot."

I thought I was whispering but who can really say. I caused an awful nuisance in the gangway.

"Talk to me, please. Sacrebleu! Why are you angry with me?"

Some scraping.

"If you are to travel with me you must answer me. I will have you put ashore and you will have to walk."

Silence.

"You are an irritating fool and I have no idea why you would throw away my trousers and why, if you would throw away my trousers, you would come aboard this fucking ship. To hell with you."

Silence.

"I love you."

Silence.

"Do you not see how much trouble you have already caused? It is not a good idea to make an enemy of Monsieur. He knows all your sitters and those not even born. M. de Garmont will want a portrait. I will talk to him."

Silence, more silence.

"Puss?" And then it was insufferable. "I hope you die."

By then we were on our way to America and I was not well and I found a bench in the galley beside Mr. Eckerd, who was attempting to dry his pigeons while a champagne bottle rolled to and fro across the floor and I did not trust my head to pick it up. Mr. Eckerd smelled, generally, like freshly plucked poultry. A great crowd had assembled on the pier head to witness our departure, and cheered as we passed, but I could not look at them. We had set out under full sail and I waited with Mr. Eckerd for the calm. Two hours went by and things got worse. Orders were given to reduce the canvas and we came back to a double-reefed mainsail, foresail, and second-sized jib. With the sail even thus diminished, the vessel, at times, almost buried herself. Mr. Eckerd moaned, and then I noticed he was slipping and sliding on the deck holding a second cage of pigeons.

He had told me his plan in confidence-the birds would be released off Rhode Island and fly home to New York with news of the eminent opera singer.

My private thoughts of Mlle Desclee were interrupted by a sickening plunge, as the entire deck was buried under boiling sea which invaded the cabin and surged across my feet, then broke against the locked door behind which, even among the crashing of pigeon cages and gin bottles, I could hear enough to know my beloved was no longer well.

I cursed God, the marquis, Lord Migraine. Once that was done, I vomited across my boots.

MY CHILDHOOD FRIEND had been done to death and in his place was nothing but a pit. I had been drugged and dragged, and left at the mercy of a vomiting copyist, and I might have expected my lungs would seize and-being denied my leeches-blood would burst right through my eyes. I had spent my whole life fearing this, or something like it, but I was a Garmont. No one would see my grief or rage.

Compared to my own cramped malodorous accommodation, the deserted main cabin was a site of healthfulness, smelling of nothing worse than salt and tar. It was here I was seated when I felt the swell preceding the first big wave, that long dreadful quiver running through the timbers of the ship, not stilled or contained by the copper sheathing of its hull but rather amplified so that a deadly vibration ran through every human bone aboard the Havre, and when that shiver had been doused, snuffed, drowned, and the little barque had tumbled off the edge, then I felt the first big wave break and I saw the great wash of beef and brandy erupt from the dreadful Parrot's gorge, and as the entire craft was hurled like a lobster into a kettle, I was very pleased to note that I was not afraid.

In the midst of this tempest the venal Dutch captain fled his post and stood before me, his nose and oilskins dripping, his vinous face awash, a bottle of champagne in his pale drowned hands.

"Your lordship"-he grinned-"something for what ails you." As the vile creature proffered his gift there was such a veritable twist to his body it was as if he had become a plank of his own ship, caught by opposing currents of servility and greed. I was embarrassed to look on him, so boneless and poisonous did he seem. I accepted his unwanted gift. He asked how else he could serve me.

I said that if he had an interest in my comfort he could deal with the retching varlet who had been deposited in my cabin.

"Ha-ha." He laughed. "Very good, sir." His French was poor.

In English I slowly and clearly demanded that the vomiter be dispatched to the hold or the bow or whatever place such persons were normally accommodated.

He saluted me and went away.

The main cabin, I now realized, contained another traveler, a tall elegant fellow with a long nose, a shortish upper lip, and a wry smile to underline it. He exhibited such magnificent ugliness you might assume him to be French but, although we had not been introduced, I already knew him as Mr. Peek, an American.

As for the introduction, it was peculiar. Mr. Peek was pleased to inform me that he knew everything concerning my business, that I was in mourning for my friend, that I was a commissioner sent by my government to investigate the superior prisons of America.

While the sea entered its next stage of violence I joined him on his bench and together we gravely watched the waters overwhelm both bow and stern-great snowy rushes which were still foaming as they entered the cabin where they swept two drowned pigeons and my champagne to the aft before the shock of the next wave brought them sailing back at us. We lifted up our shoes each time the wash came our way. This, for some reason, he thought immensely funny and even I could smile.

Mr. Peek reached down into the waters and retrieved the champagne bottle as it passed. Then he splashed across the ankle-deep waters and found two unbroken glasses, and a moment later I was toasting him, imbibing the tepid waters of Reims.

"Your lordship," said Mr. Peek, when the galley door had slammed, "might I offer some advice and hope it is not ill-taken?"

I assured him of my trust in his civility, but my English was not all I had been led to believe. "Civility," I said a second time.

"You see, it is the question of your servant being sent below."

"Good," I said, although I quickly saw his opinion would not be soothing.

"The Americans will not take it well," he said.

I understood the word take, and thought take money.

"The expulsion of your copyist-the republicans will be against it."

"Ah yes, but the servant is your natural enemy, an Englishman."

"On the other hand you are, your lordship, an aristocrat."

"So you seem to have been informed, sir."

"If I had been told nothing, that much would be evident to me," said Mr. Peek. "You possess a refinement and dignity that could have no other source. But they will not like to see you refuse to share your cabin with your man."