“I thought you wouldn’t wait for tea,” he said. “You seemed sort o’ drivin’ ’er, or I’d ’ave asked you before.”
“No, thanks, nothing,” said Steve. “It may be touch and go with them every minute.”
“Heave ahead then, mate—this way,” said Dick, and led the way down to the Creek.
“There’s a lamp an’ matches in the locker aft,” he said, when they came to the boat, and he had flung the oars aboard. “Light it while I unmoor ’er.”
Steve lit the lamp, and shipped the straight-bladed oars, and took his seat waiting for the man to shove him off. Seaman Dick flung the boat’s chain in the bow, stepped to the stern and shoved off, and stepped neatly aboard.
“You’re not coming with me?” said Steve, in some surprise.
“I thought I was,” said Seaman Dick, coolly. “Reckon a man that’s used to a boat may be some use to you.”
“More use than I am,” said Steve, and thanked him warmly.
“I know there’s a bit of risk about it,” he said, “but I’ll make it up to you if the boat’s damaged, or for the use of her.”
“You can buy me a drink when we get to the township,” said Dick, lightly. “We’ll need it if we get there. An’ we won’t need it if we don’t, for we’ll have had all the drinks we’ll want—o’ flood water. But you’d better let me take the oars across the current. I’m maybe more used to ’em than you, an’ will make more headway.”