The Aberford prescription had done wonders for him.
He caught himself passing one whole day without thinking of Lady Barbara Sinclair.
But even Aberford had misled him; there were no adventures to be found in the Firth of Forth; most of the days there was no wind to speak of; twice it blew great guns, and the men were surprised at his lordship going out, but nobody was in any danger except himself; the fishermen had all slipped into port before matters were serious.
He found the merchantmen that could sail creeping on with three reefs in their mainsail; and the Dutchmen lying to and breasting it, like ducks in a pond, and with no more chance of harm.
On one of these occasions he did observe a little steam-tug, going about a knot an hour, and rolling like a washing-tub. He ran down to her, and asked if he could assist her; she answered, through the medium of a sooty animal at her helm, that she was (like our universities) “satisfied with her own progress”; she added, being under intoxication, “that, if any danger existed, her scheme was to drown it in the bo-o-owl;” and two days afterward he saw her puffing and panting, and fiercely dragging a gigantic three-decker out into deep water, like an industrious flea pulling his phaeton.
And now it is my office to relate how Mr. Flucker Johnstone comported himself on one occasion.
As the yacht worked alongside Granton Pier, before running out, the said Flucker calmly and scientifically drew his lordship's attention to three points:
The direction of the wind—the force of the wind—and his opinion, as a person experienced in the Firth, that it was going to be worse instead of better; in reply, he received an order to step forward to his place in the cutter—the immediate vicinity of the jib-boom. On this, Mr. Flucker instantly burst into tears.
His lordship, or, as Flucker called him ever since the yacht came down, “the skipper,” deeming that the higher appellation, inquired, with some surprise, what was the matter with the boy.
One of the crew, who, by the by, squinted, suggested, “It was a slight illustration of the passion of fear.”