“Why?” asked Jack, after a glance at the doctor, who was still in the bows.
“Because it hurt me, and made me wild. And then I used to go at him and give him a good licking. That’s what I was when a boy, sir, and I am just the same now; I don’t feel at all like fighting, and, coward or no coward, I won’t fight if I can help it; but if any one hurts me, or begins to shoot at us, I think I shall get trying what I can do. But you see it won’t be fist-fists.”
“No,” said Jack thoughtfully; “it will not be fists.”
“Hi! look out!” shouted Ned. “You’ll be over.”
For a sudden puff of wind had caught the boat in front, and she heeled over so much with the large spread of sail that the water began to creep in over the leeward side. But at a word from the mate half-a-dozen men shifted their positions to windward, and there were two or three inches clear once more, as the boat with her three sails well-filled began to rush through the water.
“And now they’re goin’ to take us under,” said Ned, nervously seizing the side with one hand. “My word, we are beginning to go.”
“Yes; this is different to rowing,” cried the doctor, as their boat danced about and ran swiftly through the disturbed water left by their companion. “But, unfortunately, the wind will help the canoes as much as it helps us.”
“But if it does not help them more, we shall be up to the yacht first.”
“There’s another side to that, Jack,” said the doctor; “suppose they sail faster than we do. What then?”
This was unanswerable, and they sat back in the boat, running through the water with a little wave ever-widening on either side.