"Well?"
"I say, what is tacking anyhow?"
"Why it's working to windward."
"Yes, I know, but how do you do it?"
"O, I see. You don't understand the theory of sailing a boat. Well, I must own you're a plucky one. And you've done mighty well too."
Then the Commodore made his companion lie to, while the flagship worked past him to windward by short tacks. The Cook with his usual aptitude soon caught the idea and satisfactorily put it in practice. Then, as the breeze was moderate, there followed lessons in "jibing" and "wearing," with explanations of the circumstances under which each was necessary.
By the time the second division rounded the point, the Cook's spirits had risen, and he began once more to prate of his piratical ancestry who knew no home but the ocean.
"What were you two benighted Red Lakers doing in the bay this side of Black Point?" asked the Vice as the party sat by the fire that evening.
"Merely a little discussion as to merits of rig, and the best way of handling a boat, with practical illustrations," said the Cook, who clung frantically to the remnant of his reputation for seamanship, and trusted to the Commodore's magnanimity not to expose him.
"O, that was it, eh? And what conclusions did you reach with your Red Lake monstrosities?"