Bert was at his happiest then. Under his father's directions he was vigorously learning to row, and it was very stimulating to have his mother and sister as spectators. They took such a lively interest in his progress, that he did not mind if they did laugh heartily, but of course not unkindly, when sometimes in his eagerness to take an extra big stroke he would "catch a crab," and roll over on his back in the bottom of the boat, with his feet stuck up like two signals of distress. Bert accomplished this a good many times, but it did not discourage him. He was up and at it again immediately.
"Don't look at your oar, boys! Don't look at your oar! Keep your faces toward the stern," Mr. Lloyd would call out as Bert and Frank tugged away manfully, and they, who had been watching their oars to make sure that they went into the water just right, would answer "Ay, ay, sir!" in true sailor fashion; and then for the next few moments they would keep their eyes fixed straight astern, only to bring them back again soon to those dripping blades that had such a saucy way of getting crooked unless they were well watched.
A more delightful place than Halifax harbour of a fine summer evening could hardly be desired. The wind, which had been busy making "white caps" all the afternoon, went to rest at sundown. The ruffled waters sank into a glassy calm, the broad harbour becoming one vast mirror in which the rich hues of the sunset, the long dark lines of the wharves, and the tall masts of the ships sleeping at their moorings were reflected with many a quaint curve and curious involution. Boats of every kind, the broad-bottomed dory, the sharp-bowed flat, the trim keel-boat, the long low whaler, with their jolly companies, dotted the placid surface, while here and there a noisy steam launch saucily puffed its way along, the incessant throb of its engine giving warning of its approach. Far up the harbour at their moorings off the dockyard, the huge men-of-war formed centres around which the boats gathered in numerous squads, for every evening the band would play on board these floating castles, and the music never seemed more sweet than when it floated out over the still waters. Sometimes, too, after the band had ceased, the sailors would gather on the forecastle and sing their songs, as only sailors can sing, winning round after round of applause from their appreciative audience in the boats.
All of this was very delightful to Bert. So, too, was the paddling about on the beach that fringed the bottom of the fort's grassy slope, and the making of miniature forts out of the warm, dry sand, only to have them dissolve again before the advancing tide. Just as delightful, too, was the clambering over the boulders that marked the ruins of an old pier, searching for periwinkles, star-fish, and limpets, with never-ceasing wonder at the tenacity with which they held on to the rocks. Playing thus in the sunshine almost from dawn to dark, Bert grew visibly bigger and browner and sturdier, as the days slipped swiftly by.
CHAPTER XV.
A CHANGE OF SCHOOLS.
With the coming of September the holidays ended, and the question of schools once more was earnestly discussed in the Lloyd household.
"I have quite made up my mind not to send Bert back to Mr. Garrison," said Mr. Lloyd. "He seems to be learning little or nothing there. The fact of the matter is, what he does learn, he learns at home, and Mr. Garrison simply hears him recite his lessons."