Mr. Earle was a capital hand at telling a story. They soon found that out; and the boys began to understand that he was a tutor quite worth pleasing. On the days when they had been industrious and well-behaved, he never minded stopping for half an hour or more before time, to help them with some bit of work of their own, or to tell them exciting stories.
But if they had been idle, or impertinent, or unruly, he just packed them off to their own pursuits with a few cutting words; and if he stayed at all, it was to tell Esther something about the pictures in her book, and the boys were not permitted to remain or to hear a word.
"You're not fit for civilized society—be off with you!" Mr. Earle would say in his quick, authoritative way; and it was no use their putting on coaxing or defiant airs, as they had done to their father in old days. Mr. Earle would neither be coaxed nor defied. He sent them straight off with an air of cutting contempt, which Pickle, at least, was old enough to feel and to wince under.
"If you can't behave yourselves like gentlemen, you're not fit company for a lady," was another of his maxims; and both Pickle and Puck began rather to dread provoking these speeches from their inflexible tutor.
And then Mr. Earle was well worth pleasing, as they soon began to find. Upon the Wednesday following that eventful Saturday, when he came down in the afternoon (for he always went back to the Crag between half-past twelve and two), he walked into the study and swept all the books back into their places, and said, with a happy twinkle in his eye,—
"Get your hats, and come along. We're going to have a lesson in navigation this afternoon."
The boys gave a whoop of delight. They did not exactly know what navigation might be, but they scented something delightful; and as they had been remarkably good for the past days, it seemed to come like a reward of virtue. Esther's face brightened with pleasure and curiosity. She wondered what was going to happen; but there was no delay in getting off, and soon they were all walking down to the shore, where they found old Pollard waiting for them, not in his cranky old tub, but in the tight, trim boat belonging to the Crag, that was kept in order by the old fisherman, and had beautiful white sails curled up in readiness, two masts, and a figurehead like a swan with a gracefully-arched neck.
Esther knew the look of the boat, and had once been out in it with Mr. Trelawny, but had been too much afraid of him to enjoy her sail at all. Now, however, her eyes kindled and danced, for she dearly loved the water, and was never the least seasick; and when the boys understood that they were going out for a sail, they yelled and danced and shouted like a pair of wild Indians.
The old fisherman sat with the helm in his hand, but Mr. Earle managed the sails, and he went about his business as though he were a sailor himself, and talked in queer terms with the old man, whilst the boys listened agape, and wished they knew what it meant.
They soon found, however, that they had not come out simply to be idle. They were soon in the middle of a lecture upon ropes and rigging, sails and spars, and began to understand that this sailing was not a mere game, but that there was a vast deal to learn about it, and that a whole new world of thoughts and ideas was opening before them.