“Then I’ll tell you, my lad. They sail up and up, and the banks close in till at last they’re going up what looks like a great canal with the forest trees right down to the water’s edge, shutting them quite in.”
“That is just the sort of place we want to sail up, eh, Free?” said Brace.
“Exactly,” replied his brother.
“Plenty of ’em up where you’re going,” said the skipper, “and you’ll be able to sit on deck and fish and shoot without going ashore. But a schooner of the regular sort would be no use there.”
“Why?” asked Brace.
“Because a schooner would be becalmed. Her big fore and aft sails would have all the wind shut out from them by the trees. With a brig like this all you have to do is to run up a couple of topgallant spars like those you see tucked under the bulwarks there, long thin tapering fellows like fishing-rods, and hoist a couple of square sails high up on them, and you catch the wind, and on you go.”
“Yes, I see,” said Brace. “Then those long thin masts are ready for such an emergency.”
“That’s right, squire,” said the captain, smiling; “only I don’t call that an emergency, only a matter of plain sailing. It makes one ready to go straight on, for I don’t know anything more wherriting to a sailor than having a nice breeze blowing overhead and not coming down low enough to fill his sails. I’ve been like that before now in one of these rivers, but I don’t think I shall be again. Of course one must expect a stoppage now and then in the dry times when the water falls and leaves the river shallow. There’s no fighting against that, and no seamanship will teach a skipper how to find the deep channels in a river where the banks and shoals are always shifting. But come and look at the quarters below. You won’t find any polished wood and gilding, squire,” he continued, turning to Brace, with a dry smile.
“Do you suppose I expected any?” said Brace shortly.
“Well, no, I suppose not. But there is some polish, because the lads put that on with elbow-grease. No stuffing neither on the seats.”