“Rather too hot for you, won’t it be, sir?” said the man, smiling.
“It is hot; but I can leave off if I’m tired,” replied Jack.
“Here you are then, sir,” said the man; “I’m stroke, and you bow, so you take your time from me, and hittings in the back don’t count fair.”
The next minute they were rowing slowly back toward the yacht, with the doctor looking on very silent and thoughtful, as he furtively watched the young oarsman.
“Boat ahoy!” came at last from the yacht’s deck. “What sport? Caught anything?”
Jack answered in the familiar old way in which fishermen do reply to that question.
“No!”
“Tired, Jack?” said his father, as the boat grazed the yacht’s side.
“A little—not much,” replied the lad; and he sprang on deck actively enough, and ready for the dinner which was to follow in due course.
“Brayvo! Mr Jack, sir!” said Edward, who had followed him to his cabin. “I never see anything like the way you’re going on now. It’s grand, that it is.”