“Lord bless you, no.”
“Will it upset?”
“No fear of that.”
“Will not the sea swallow us?”
“No, miss. How can the sea swallow us? She rides like a cork, and there is the skipper bailing her out, to make her lighter still. No; I'll tell you, miss; all we have got to mind is two things; we must not let her broach to, and we must not get pooped.”
“But why must we not?”
“Why? Because we mustn't.”
“But I mean, what would be the consequence of—broaching to?”
Jack opened his eyes in astonishment. “Why, the sea would run over her quarter, and swamp her.”
“Oh!! And if we get pooped?”