The sun next morning was not more than an hour high, when these mowers had embarked in the hay-boat for the Beach. The light breeze of that muggy August morning, blowing a trifle on the fore-quarter, carried them down the river so slowly that in order to gain time they plied the oar.
The scene which lay about them has changed but little in almost the hundred years which have passed since that morning. The river’s course to the Bay was just as zig-zag then as it is now. Eastward lay the same broad meadows, skirted by that dense barrier of foliage—the Noccomack woods. Westward there stood upon the river bank where the [Squasux] road came down, a long, low one-story house, and below this the meadows extended to the distant woodland. As the sunlight fell aslant upon these meadows, they presented all those lustrous gradations of yellow and brown that may be seen in the early sunlight of an August morning to-day.
“There, put away yer oar, Josh; the breeze stiffens,” said Raner, as they neared the mouth of the river.
“Thet ere’s warm work,” exclaimed Josh, as he finished the stroke and laid aside the oar. “I’ll tek a swaller, I believe.”
“No, no,” replied Layn; “put that jug back. It’s too ’arly in the day to begin swiggin’ at that. You’ll hev need o’ ev’ry drop o’ your share on the Beach.”
“A couple o’ swallers ’ill mek no diff’rence one way nur t’other. Not a sol’try horn hev I hed yet to-day, an’ I’ve pulled the hull way down the river, whilst you’ve sot thar, yer elbows on yer knees,” replied Josh, as he tipped the jug and drank.
“Pass it along,” said Raner. “Our ends hev all got to be kep’ even to-day.”
Raner and Layn each drank, though lightly, and passed the jug back to Josh, who, remarking, “It took all t’other swaller to wet my throat,” deliberately tipped the jug and drank continuously as he walked forward to put it in its place.
The hay-boat went slowly, and the time passed tediously to men who were ambitious to be at their day’s work. Of this Raner himself furnished the best evidence, as he stood by the tiller, treading from side to side, and knocking one foot against the other.
The present generation has little notion of what the sailing of those days was, particularly in the flat-bottomed, square-ended hay-boats. With a free wind, the course could be pretty well kept, but with the wind abeam, leeway became almost equal to headway, and wide calculations and allowances had always to be made. Layn had this in mind when he said, “Give the [Inlet] a wide berth or I’m afeard the tide’ll ketch us an’ draw us through.”