"I'm going to see a gale some day, captain. I want to go out on the ocean in a storm."
"Ye do, eh? If ye go, I guess it'll be aboard a liner, where ye'll be penned up like a rat in a trap. That's the way people travel these days, 'in luxury,' they call it. But give me my old Flyin' Queen, a strong breeze abeam, and ye kin have all yer iron or steel tubs as fer as I'm concerned."
The Roaring Bess had made good time down the river, lifting and swinging forward with long plunging leaps as if glad of the freedom she was enjoying. Ere long the wharf was reached for which the captain had been heading, and in a few moments she was lying in smooth water on the lower side, safe from the wind.
"You stay here, lad," the captain ordered, as he sprang ashore, and made a line fast to the nearest post. "I'll run up fer the doctor."
It took him but a short time to cross the field to Marshall house.
Here he found Doctor Travis, and briefly stated the object of his visit.
"It's a terrible night, isn't it?" the doctor enquired.
"Oh, no. Jist a gentle breeze."
"But look at your oil-skins. You've been drenched from head to foot."
"Well, what of it? A little water won't hurt anybody. The more the better, is my motto."
"Very well, then, I'll go," and the doctor reached for his big coat and hat. Then he seized his grip, and followed the captain down to the wharf.