“No, no, not on any account,” were the last words of Ada into Harry’s ear, as he helped her to her place.
“Remember, we dine at six!” said Georgina, as she waved them an adieu; and young Luttrell cried out, “All right!” as he slacked off his sheet, and let the boat run broad and full towards the open sea.
“It is fresher, far fresher than I thought!” said M’Kinlay, whose transition from a row-boat to a sailing one imparted the impression of a strong breeze.
“Cat’s-paws! light airs of wind that die away every moment! But I see it looks bluer out yonder, and now and then I see a white curl on the water that may mean a little wind.”
“Then I beseech you, Sir, let us keep where we are!”
“Don’t you want me to teach you something about fishing? You said you wished to know what ‘trawling’ meant.”
“Not to-day; not on this occasion, my young friend. It was another errand brought me here this morning. Could you not draw that thing a little closer, and do something to make us go somewhat steadier?”
“I’ll close haul, if you prefer it,” said Harry, taking a strong pull at the sheet, and, with his helm hard up, sending the skiff along under a full wind. She leaned over so much, too, that it required all M’Kinlay’s strength, with both arms outside the gunwale, to keep his position. “That’s pleasanter, ain’t it?” asked Harry.
“I’ll not say I like it, either.”
“You will when the wind steadies; it’s squally just now, and she feels it, for she has no keel.”