Paul, from amid-ships, applauded softly, and she attempted a frown, which ended feebly in a smile. And wherefore not? Sufficient, indeed, unto that day was the pleasure thereof. The red-brown sail drew bravely, the long line lay curled up forward, the oyster dredger rested athwart, the rifles were with Paul amid-ships, the lithe rods swept out astern behind Marjory as she leant lightly over the tiller, her eyes upon the quivering sail; for it needed every inch she could gain to avoid a tack, even though the current of the outgoing tide was aiding them to slip through the Narrowest to the open sea beyond.
"Where will the white rock be?" she asked of Donald Post, who, being learned in banks and baits, would often set his wife to carry the bag while he was off and away after the sea fishing. He was now opening mussels with a crunching sound, regular as a machine.
'"Deed an' she will be right ahead of us whatever," he replied, without a pause.
"There will be plenty of water, I suppose?"
'"Deed she will no be havin' much on her, anyhow."
"Then how shall I steer?"
"Just as she is, Miss Marjory, just as she is; she will be doing fine, I'm thinking."
"A miss is as good as a mile," murmured Paul, engaged in stretching his long length comfortably over some ballast kegs. "Can you swim?"
Marjory nodded. "Then save me, please; I really am not inclined to exert myself."
"So it appears," remarked Will Cameron, in an injured tone. He and the Reverend James were forward, busy over the tangled lengths of the long line, and the necessity for restraining his tongue before the cloth was telling even on the former's easy temper; for a long line in a tangle is quite indescribable in Parliamentary language.