“I brought you out on a roughish day, Nat,” he continued, “so as to give you a good lesson. Look here, Nat,—if an unskilful rider mounted a spirited horse he would most likely be thrown; and if a person who does not know how to manage a sailing-boat goes out in one on a windy day, the chances are that the boat is capsized, fills, and goes to the bottom. Now, if I had not had hold of the sheet then, and eased off the sail—let it go, as a sailor would call it,—we should have been capsized, and then—”
“What then, uncle?” I said, feeling very nervous indeed.
“We should have gone to the bottom, my boy, and been drowned, for I don’t think I could have swum ashore from here in my clothes and taken you as well.”
“Then—then, hadn’t we much better go ashore at once, uncle?” I said, looking at him nervously.
“Yes, Nat, I’ll take you ashore at once if you feel afraid; but before doing so I will tell you that I brought you out here to give you a severe lesson in what boat-sailing with me is likely to be; and I tell you besides, Nat, that I know well how to manage a boat. You have had enough of it, I see, and we will go back.”
He made a motion to take the tiller out of my hands, for I was steering as he told me to steer, but I pushed his hand back.
“I thought you were frightened, Nat,” he said; and then there was a pause, for I wanted to speak, but the words would not come. At last, though, they did.
“I am frightened, uncle, very much frightened; and this going up and down makes me feel sick.”
“All right, then, Nat, we’ll go back,” he said kindly; but he was watching me all the while.
“No,” I gasped, “we won’t, and—and,” I cried, setting my teeth fast, “I won’t be sick.”