“That wasn’t much to do,” said Tellef. What it was that wasn’t much to do, Tellef didn’t say. Johnny only stared out over the gray-blue splashing waves.
Only think! He might have been lying under those waves now!
And all at once the truth smote him: he ought not to have done this; he had known all the time that he ought not, and yet—he had done it.
It was only an excuse when he had told himself that it was all right to sail with an umbrella. He knew perfectly well that it wasn’t. Ugh! how disobedient he had been, he who was heir of Kingthorpe, too! Before, it didn’t matter so very much if he were disobedient; but everything was different now that he was the Kingthorpe heir. He must not be disobedient any more, for it was shameful. How sorry, how sorry he was!
All this time they were striving as hard as they could to turn the boat toward shore. Johnny’s thoughts ran on:
It wasn’t because the wind blew so furiously or that the waves dashed so high or that the umbrella had floated away, that made him so sorry! No indeed. Pooh! Nor was it that they sat drenched in the tossing boat far out among great white-capped waves. If he only had not been so awfully disobedient.
Suppose he had been drowned. It would have been pleasant, wouldn’t it, for him, the heir of Kingthorpe, to meet Uncle Isaac at the heavenly gate, after being so disobedient?
“This was a crazy plan,” said Tellef. His cap had blown away, his hair was dripping round his ears, and he rowed with might and main.
“If we can only get behind the Tongue,” said Tellef.
“If we can only get behind the Tongue,” repeated Johnny. They rowed steadily for a while, their red faces showing the effort they made, while the wind blew more fiercely than ever.