As we approached the Bridge, De Grammont nervously called our attention to the danger ahead of us.
"Yes, we'll take the middle arch, and I shall enjoy seeing the king's barge follow us," I answered, with what breath I could spare.
"Take the middle arch, and the tide running as a river in flood ?" cried De Grammont, speaking French, being too excited to sort out English words.

"Never! Never! Let me out!" "Do not fear, count," I answered.

"Our pilot--" "Our pilot! Ah, sacrament! We are lost! Our pilot is a mere girl!" "But a wonder, count, a wonder.

There is no waterman on the river in whose hands we should be safer," I replied, expressing my confidence in stronger terms than it really deserved.

To shoot London Bridge when the tide was running out, as it then was, would give pause to the hardiest waterman.