"--22, the two quartermasters out for a walk!" "--33, the legs of the ship's cook!" And my poor Yves was below them, at the bottom of the hold, in the dark, stretched on the floor in the cold, with his foot in an iron ring. What should I do? . . . Order him to be set free and sent to me? I foresaw perfectly well how this interview might turn out: He standing before me, impassive, sullen, his bonnet, respectfully doffed, braving me by his silence, his eyes downcast. And, if he refused to come--and he was quite capable of this in his present mood--what then? . . . How could I save him from the consequences of such a refusal of obedience? How could I then extricate him from the mess I should have made between our own private affairs and the blind rules of discipline? Now, night was falling and Yves had been nearly five hours in irons. I thought of little Pierre and of Marie, of the good folk of Toulven, who had put their hope in me, and then of an oath I had sworn to an old mother in Plouherzel. And above all, I realized that I still loved my poor Yves as a brother. . . . I went back to my room and began hurriedly to write to him; for this must be the only means of communication between us; with our characters, explanations would never be successful. I wrote quickly, in large letters, so that he could still read them: darkness was coming on quickly, and, in the dockyard, a light is a thing forbidden. Then I said to the sergeant-at-arms: "Bring Kermadec to speak to _the Officer of the Watch_, here in my room." I had written: "DEAR BROTHER,--I forgive you and I ask that you too will forgive me. You know well that we are now brothers, and that, in spite of everything, we must stick together through thick and thin. Are you willing that all that we have done and said on the _Sèvre_ should be forgotten, and are you willing to make one more firm resolution to be sober? I ask this of you in the name of your mother. If you will write 'Yes' at the bottom of this paper, all will be over and we will not speak of it again. "PIERRE." When Yves came in, without looking at him, and without waiting for a reply, I said to him simply: "Read this which I have just written for you." And I went out, leaving him alone. He came out quickly, as if he had been afraid of my return, and, as soon as I heard that he was some distance away, I re-entered my room to see what he had answered. At the bottom of my letter--in letters still larger than mine, for it was growing darker--he had written: "Yes, brother," and signed: "YVES." CHAPTER LXVII "Jean-Marie, go as quickly as you can and tell Yves that I am waiting for him on shore, on the quay." This was ten minutes later. It was clearly necessary that we should meet--after having written one another thus--in order to make the reconciliation complete.