“The sea is rougher than I thought,” he said, “for I suppose we may call it sea out here, Nat, this being the estuary of the Thames, so I think I’ll make that do for to-day.”
“Don’t go back for me, uncle,” I said, as a wave broke over the bow of the boat, splashing us from top to toe.
“I am going back for both our sakes, Nat, for we shall soon be wet through. It is a day for india-rubber coats; but this has been a glorious sail, and a splendid lesson for you, Nat.”
“Yes, uncle,” I said, “and I feel hardly frightened a bit now.”
“No, my boy, it has given you far more confidence than you had before. It is live and learn, Nat; you believe more in me and I believe more in you.”
He gave me one of his nods as he said this, and then took the rope from my hand.
“Now, Nat, steer us home, my boy; I’ll tell you what to do. By and by you and I will have a native boat, perhaps, with a matting sail, to manage, sailing about near the equator.”
“But is it rough out there, uncle, amongst the islands?” I said.
“Very, at times, my boy; but with a light, well-built boat like this I should not be afraid to go anywhere. See how like a duck she is in shape, and how easily she rides over the waves. I should like to have one exactly the same build but twice as large, and with the fore part and poop decked over or covered in with canvas; and I don’t know but what it would be wise to take out such a boat.”
Then he went on giving me explanations about the sail, and which was a lug-sail, what was meant by fore-and-aft rig, and a dozen other things, showing me the while too how to steer.