“Was you ever so far from land before, Charlie?” asked John, after they had run about an hour and a half.
“No; except in a vessel, with a crew of men, and a compass.”
“It’s great—ain’t it? to be going through the water in this wild way, and not see or hear anything but the waves. Only see how she runs when she gets on the top of one of these long seas; and how they come up under the stern, and roll over, and go boo.”
“If we should get out so far by daylight,” said Fred, “that we couldn’t see the land, should we ever get back?”
“We can’t get so far; it was after three before we started; the land is but little way astern, and we can see it fifteen or twenty miles. We can take in sail and lie by, if we think we are getting too far.”
“But the wind might blow so hard that we couldn’t get back.”
“I don’t think there’s much fun without some risk; every old woman would go to sea if there was no danger.”
“I’m a great deal more afraid of the wind dying,” said Charlie; “it don’t blow near so hard as it did; we may have to row.”
They ran on about an hour longer, when Fred cried out, “It’s daybreak, I know; there is a streak in the east.”
Gradually the light increased. John soon declared that he saw the shade of the land, and didn’t believe they were far enough.