"Oh, the 'Lively Nancy,' she's as light as a feather."
The light and gaily-painted boat was soon skimming over the sparkling waves, which were laughing in the sunshine, and Leslie rowed with a will, the cool breeze fanning his cheeks and lifting the masses of curly black hair. Old Crusoe steered. For more than an hour Leslie kept his place at the oars; but when the boat's head was turned homeward, he resigned it to Crusoe and took his place at the tiller.
All would have gone well, and the boat would have reached the shore, if Leslie's eyes had not chanced to alight upon the plug used by Crusoe to let the water free after cleaning the boat. "What a lark it would be to frighten Crusoe," he thought; and no sooner had the thought flashed across his mind than he drew the plug, and quietly dropped it into the water.
All unconscious of the invading sea, Crusoe continued to row in silence, until he felt something cool creeping round his boots, and looking down he perceived he was ankle deep in water. "Hallo," he shouted, "What's this? Why, the boat hasn't started a plank, has she? Why, we shall sink!"
"No fear of that," said Leslie.
"No fear! why, it will take us very nearly an hour to get to shore, and she'll sink in less than ten minutes."
"You don't mean it, Crusoe?" cried Leslie, in a startled voice; "why, I've pulled out the plug."
"What?" cried the horrified boatman; "here, take this boat-hook and hoist your hat on it as a signal to those ashore, it's our only hope."
Leslie did as he was desired, and both he and Crusoe shouted with all the power of their lungs, but apparently in vain, for no boat was seen to put off from the beach.