“Where?”
“At Fort Sumter. I know the officer in command there—in fact, he’s an intimate friend of our family,—and he’ll provide us with what we need. How much do you think?”
“About three hundred pounds—in fifty pound bags for distribution. Two hundred might do, but three hundred won’t be too much, I think, and if it is we can empty out the surplus.”
“How on earth can you tell a thing like that by mere guess work, Dick?” queried Tom in astonishment.
“It isn’t mere guess work,” said Dick. “In fact, it isn’t guess work at all.”
“What is it, then?”
“Experience and observation. You see, I’ve sailed many dories, Tom, and I’ve studied the behavior of boats under mighty good sea schoolmasters—the Gloucester fishermen—and so with a little feeling of a boat in a wind I can judge pretty accurately what she needs in the way of ballast, just as anybody who has sailed a boat much, can judge how much wind to take and how much to spill.”
“I’d like to learn something about sailing if I could,” said Tom.
“You can and you shall,” broke in Cal. “Dick will teach you on this trip, and Larry and I will act as his subordinate instructors, so that before we get back from our wanderings you shall know how to handle a boat as well as we do; that is to say, if you don’t manage to send us all to Davy Jones during your apprenticeship. There’s a chance of that, but we’ll take the risk.”
“Yes, and there’s no better time to begin than right now,” said Dick. “That’s a ticklish landing Larry is about to make at Fort Sumter. Watch it closely and see just how he does it. Making a landing is the most difficult and dangerous thing one has to do in sailing.”