It was a delicious time of adventure to me as I went about with Uncle Dick buying the necessaries for our trip, and very proud I felt of my flannels and stout drill breeches and Norfolk jackets, with belt to hold cartridges, and a strong sheathed knife.
Every day I had a long practice with my gun with what uncle said were satisfactory results; and matters had been going on like this for about a fortnight when my uncle said one day:
“Now, Nat, we must have a bit more education, my boy. We shall very often be left to our own resources, and travel from island to island in a boat, which we shall have to manage; so come along and let me see if I cannot make a sailor of you before we start.”
In order to do this he took me down to Gravesend, where, in spite of its being a rough day, he engaged a sailing-boat.
“Bit too rough for that, mister, isn’t it?” said a rough-looking sailor who stood by with his hands in his pockets.
“It is rough, my man,” said my uncle quietly. “Jump in, Nat.”
I felt afraid, but I would not show it, and jumped into the boat, which was pushed off, and my uncle at once proceeded to hoist the lug-sail.
“That’s right, Nat,” he said encouragingly. “I saw that you felt a bit nervous, for your cheeks were white; but that is the way: bravely meet a terror and it shrinks to half its size. I can remember feeling as timid as could be on entering an open boat and pulling off in a choppy sea; but now I know the danger, and how to meet it, I feel as calm and comfortable as you will after a trip or two. Now then, lay hold of that rope and give a pull when I cry ‘haul’, and we’ll soon have a little sail upon her.”
I did as he bade me, and, pulling at the rope, the sail was hoisted part of the way with the effect that it ballooned out in an instant, and the boat went sidewise.
“Mind, uncle,” I shouted; “the boat’s going over;” and I clung to the other side.