“Jest what I’d like to do, if she’d let me.”
“Let you?”
“Yes. There ain’t a mite o’ wind, an’ she’s, goin’ every which way.”
“Then we’re standing still, and doing nothing.”
“Standin’ still?” cried Captain Corbet. “Lor’ bless you, a couple of hours ago we were ten miles up there;” and he pointed far away toward the other end of the bay.
“Up there?”
“Yes. We’re not standin’ still; not by no manner o’ means.”
“What are we doing?”
“Driftin’.”
“Drifting?”