"I daresay. Could you? If you were going about off a lee shore in a storm and missed stays, could you club-haul your ship, Mr. Brinsley?"
The three Miss Miners stared at the two in surprise and wonder, not understanding a word of what they were saying. It was apparent to Lawrence, however, that Fanny was bent on putting Brinsley in the position of confessing his ignorance at last; but where the young girl had learned even the language of seamanship, which she used with such apparent precision, was more than Lawrence could guess. Brinsley did not answer at once, and Fanny pressed him.
"Do you even know what club-hauling means?" she asked, mercilessly.
"Well—no—really, I think the term must be obsolete."
"Not at sea," retorted Fanny.
This was crushing, and Brinsley, who was really a very good hand at ordinary sailing, grew angry.
"Of course you've had some experience in catboats," Fanny continued. "That isn't serious sailing, you know. It's about equivalent, in horsemanship, to riding a donkey—a degree less dignified than walking, and a little less trouble."
"I won't say anything about myself, Miss Trehearne," said Brinsley, "but you might treat the catboat a little less roughly. I didn't know you'd ever sailed anything else."
Here the Miss Miners interposed, one after the other, protesting that it was not fair to use up the opportunities of conversation in such nautical jargon.
"I only wished to prove to Mr. Brinsley that I'm to be trusted at sea," Fanny answered.