“No. See how that rotten old yard came down. She looks to me like a regular tub. Sort of old craft as would melt away like butter if she touched the sands. I say, how should you like to be shipwrecked?”
“Not at all. Were you ever wrecked?”
“Not yet. Dessay I shall be some day. I say, you’re in for it. Sure to be pretty rough going down Channel. You’ll have the mully-grubs pretty stiff.”
“Oh! I don’t know,” I said quietly.
“Don’t you? Then I do. Oh, Stooard! won’t you be bad! Ever seen the sea?”
“Lots of times.”
“But you’ve never been on it?”
“Oh yes, I have.”
“And been sick?”
“I was once when we went across to Havre, but that’s years ago, when my father had the Swallow.”