“Yes, please—I should like to see that,” said the guest, with a sigh of relief, for he seemed to see safety in being nearer the shore.
“All right! We’ll run for it,” cried Kenneth; and he slightly altered the boat’s course, so as to draw a little nearer to the land. “Wind’s getting up beautifully.”
“Getting up?”
“Yes. Blow quite a little gale to-night, I’ll be bound.”
“Is—is there any danger?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We get a wreck sometimes—don’t we, Scood?”
“Oh ay, very fine wrecks sometimes, and plenty of people trowned!”
“You mean wrecks of ships?”
“Yes; and boats too, like this—eh, Scood?”
“Oh yes; poats like this are often wrecked, and go to the pottom,” said Scood maliciously.