All about them lay the beautiful river, broadening out as it approached Chesapeake Bay. To the east the water glittered like quicksilver under the sun’s rays, and gulls darted back and forth with graceful, wide spread wings. Sometimes they rested on the water and rocked lazily to and fro like wild ducks. Standing on one leg on a stretch of marshy land, where the wild rice grew thickly, a sleepy crane watched them weigh anchor. The yacht hardly made any more effort about it than the little motor launch had, and before the girls realized they had started, they heard the signal bells and felt the gentle vibration of the engines.
Ruth touched Polly’s hand lightly with her own, as it lay on the arm of her chair. Her face was turned seaward, and her chin was uplifted, as if she were drinking in the delicious air. There was a faint glow in her cheeks, and a smile on her lips.
Tony, the cabin boy, came back, and deftly spread a square of snowy linen on the green wicker table, then returned, bearing a huge tray laden with iced chocolate, strawberries served on crisp lettuce-leaves like eggs in a nest, buttered waffles, broiled fresh mackerel under a silver cover, and lyonnaise potatoes.
“The Senator and Admiral will take their breakfast below together,” Mrs. Yates said. “I thought perhaps you girls would enjoy it better on deck, as the view down the river is beautiful at this hour of the morning. Polly, you may serve in the Senator’s place, while I pour the chocolate.”
That was a memorable morning for the girls. Polly said in her impulsive way:
“Here we had expected to ‘rough it,’ as the boys say, camp out, and learn how to sail boats, and do our own cooking on a deserted island, and just look at this. I declare it’s enough to spoil us for the island camp. Who would want to bother over sails and rudders, and jibs and booms, and things, when you can manage the whole ship this way, just by touching an electric button.”
“Where’s the button, Polly?” asked Crullers, dreamily. “I didn’t see any button.”
“There are a whole row of them up in the pilot house,” Polly returned. “I saw them as we came past. But still,” with a wave of loyalty towards the unknown island and its yacht club, “I think I would rather have to fight my way against the waves. It must be glorious to feel like that gull over there, as if you had wide spread wings and were flying low before a gale.”
“Just wait till Polly tries it,” laughed Mrs. Yates. “It sounds so much easier than it really is. I remember my first yachting experience when I was your age, Polly. My father bought a winter bungalow on the Carolina coast, not far from Charleston, and it was my first winter in a warm climate. I had three big brothers, and the dearest possession they owned in common was a sailboat that they built themselves. I think they used to call it a knockabout, and the name of it was the Say When.”
“Isn’t that a dear name for a boat?” cried Polly.