“Dick,” whispered Arthur, after beckoning his brother to his side, where he was holding on by the weather shrouds.
“Hullo!” cried Dick, laughing. “Oh, I say, Taff, isn’t it fun? I can’t walk.”
“I’m sure it isn’t safe,” whispered Arthur.
“Eh? What? Not safe?”
“No, I’m sure it isn’t. We shall be blown over.”
“Oh, never mind,” said Dick. “They’ll turn her round and blow her up again. I say, Taff; don’t be afraid. We sha’n’t hurt.”
“But if we were to be drowned, Dick, what would papa say?”
“Don’t know. He wouldn’t like it, though. But we sha’n’t be drowned. Look at Will. He’d know if there was any danger, and he’s as cool as can be. Come, pluck up. Let go of that rope. You’ll soon get used to it.”
Arthur turned a ghastly face to him.
“I’m trying to master being frightened, Dick,” he said humbly; “but I must go home again; I’m going to be sick.”