"Topsail's all clear for hoisting, sir," he said, and one or two of those about the big man laughed. "What's the quickest way of getting down, Chriss?"
Niven stooped and grasped a rope. "Topsail tack, I think. It should do," he said.
In another second the rope was rasping between his ankles and through his hands, then it yielded suddenly and he fell at least a fathom with Appleby's feet just above his head. It held again, however, and he slid to the deck, while the rest were setting the big maintopsail with a yard along the head of it when he went aft. The skipper glanced at him a moment, and then turned to the men.
"We'll goosewing her, boys. Get your boom foresail over," he said.
He span the wheel a trifle, the long narrow foresail lurched across, and when it swung outboard on the opposite side the Champlain lifted her head a little and the foam that lapped higher swept almost to her quarter-rail.
"She's flying," said Niven. "Going like a train."
Then he felt that the skipper was watching him, and wondered whether he had done anything unfitting when he saw his little, dry smile.
"It was a straight tale you told me—most of it. Stick to that kind of talk," he said.
Niven flushed a trifle, and was about to answer when Appleby kicked him, and he said, "Yes, sir," instead.
Jordan nodded. "Rich men's sons don't go to sea," he said. "Well, now, there's a thing you can remember. Never swing yourself down by anything until you know just what it is and what it's made fast to. We've no use for show tricks on board this packet, and I figure the cook will find something you can do."