“He used to work in a fishing-boat when he was a boy, Tom.”
“Ah, that accounts for it! They are smart sailors, some of them Greeks, in their own craft, though I never reckoned they were any good in a square-rigged ship; but in those feluccas of theirs they ain’t easy to be beaten in anything like fine weather. But they ain’t dependable, none of those Mediterranean chaps are, whether they are Greeks or Italians or Spaniards, when it comes on to blow really hard, and there is land under your lee, and no port to run to. When it comes to a squeak like that they lose their nerve and begin to pray to the saints, and wring their hands, and jabber like a lot of children. They don’t seem to have no sort of backbone about them. But in fine weather I allow they handle their craft as well as they could be handled. Mind your helm, sir; you must always keep your attention to that, no matter what is being said.”
“Are you going to get up the topsail, Tom?”
“Not at present, sir; with this wind there will be more sea on as we get further out, and I don’t know the craft yet; I want to see what her ways are afore we try her. She looks to me as if she would be stiff under canvas; but running as we are we can’t judge much about that, and you have always got to be careful with these light-draft craft. When we get to know her we shall be able to calculate what she will carry in all weathers; but there is no hurry about that. I have seen spars carried away afore now, from young commanders cracking on sail on craft they knew nothing about. This boat can run, there is no mistake about that. Look at that fishing-boat ahead of us; that is Jasper Hill’s Kitty; she went out ten minutes afore you came down. We are overhauling her hand over hand, and she is reckoned one of the fastest craft in Seaport. But then, this craft is bound to run fast with her fine lines and shallow draft; we must wait to see how she will do when there is lots of wind.”
In a couple of hours Horace was glad to hand over the tiller to the skipper as the sea had got up a good deal, and the Surf yawed so much before the following waves that it needed more skill than he possessed to keep her straight.
“Fetch the compass up, Dick,” the skipper said; “we are dropping the land fast. Now get the mizzen off her, she will steer easier without it, and it isn’t doing her much good. Do you begin to feel queer at all, Mr. Horace?”
“Not a bit,” the boy laughed. “Why, you don’t suppose, after rolling about in those fishing-boats when they are hanging to their nets, that one would feel this easy motion.”
“No; you would think not, but it don’t always follow. I have seen a man, who had been accustomed to knock about all his life in small craft, as sick as a dog on board a frigate, and I have seen the first lieutenant of a man-of-war knocked right over while lying off a bar on boat service. One gets accustomed to one sort of motion, and when you get another quite different it seems to take your innards all aback.”
The run to Dartmouth was quickly made, and to Horace’s delight they passed several large ships on their way.