DOG-FACE
On the following Thursday afternoon there was a half-holiday, and Jack Symonds found himself suddenly without occupation. He had intended to go for a ramble into the bush behind the college, but at the last moment his proposed companion had been unable to accompany him. He was therefore at a loose end, but it was not in him to remain idle for long.
"What are you going to do with your useless self?" he demanded of Billy jocularly.
"Didn't you know? Some of us are going for a sail on the bay."
"Are you? What ripping luck! Any room for a bad sailor who doesn't know a mainbrace from a companion hatchway?"
"I think we can find room," said Billy. "Don't you think so, Patchie?"
"I do, comrade. That is, provided he doesn't get his feet in the scuppers or start dancing a jig on the keel."
"Good-oh!" said Jack. "Are you coming now? Yes? Half a mo', till I run down into the Gym. and change. I'll meet you at the landing stage."
A spanking breeze was blowing as the little party of five put off from the jetty and slid out carefully into the blue expanse of the bay. The steering and management of the little craft, which was merely an undecked skiff, was undertaken by Billy Faraday. The boat was fitted with a single balance lug sail, but it was fairly large, and soon they were running before the wind at a smart clip.
"By Jingo!" said Jack, smacking Patchie upon the back, "this is exhilarating, isn't it?"