“You know we shall be quite safe with Uncle Fred. He was once a sailor himself.”
But Bertie shook his head with a troubled look. He would so much have liked to go, had it not been for his fears; but he dared not. He knew he should be miserable as soon as he felt himself upon the water.
Phil came up at the moment to make the same suggestion that Queenie had done, and the attention of the other boys was attracted, and they learned for the first time Bertie’s horror of the water.
“Why, that must never be allowed to go on!” cried Walter, with a twinkle in his eye. “Bertie will grow up a pitiful coward if we don’t take him in hand. Little boys who are afraid must get over their fears. Come along, Bertie, and get into that boat at once. I’ll guarantee you shall be safe.”
But Bertie shrank back, looking pale and scared.
“I don’t want to,” he said, quickly.
“Little boys can’t always do what they want,” quoth Bernard, sententiously; “we were brought up to believe that, if you weren’t. Don’t you be a fool, Bertie, or you’ll never be good for anything.”
“If you once get over the funks, you’ll enjoy it like anything,” urged Phil. “Don’t be silly, Bertie; they’ll make you do it, and you’d better go peaceable than not.”
Bertie was horribly frightened; an unreasoning panic had seized him; he made a rush to try and escape, but nothing could have been more fatal to his hopes than that. He was caught in two minutes, and the excitement of the chase and of his opposition made his captors absolutely determined now to work their will upon him. A very little is enough to rouse a boy’s instincts of tyranny, and to the Arbuthnots, who did not know what nerves were, Bertie’s cowardice seemed utterly despicable. Indeed, they firmly believed that they were doing him a real service in putting it down with a firm hand.
“Here he is!” cried Walter, who was holding the prisoner in an iron clasp. “This sort of thing won’t do, you know. Who has a piece of whip-cord?”