George did not immediately land when he reached the beach, but floated here and there at will, enjoying the delightful sea breeze which set in from seaward. At length, however, he became tired and landed. The boat did not belong to him, but was hired of a fisherman living near by, who had an extra boat.
The owner of the boat was on hand when George landed. He was, though a fisherman, a man of good, sound common sense, who read a good deal in his leisure moments and was therefore well informed. Like many other New England men of low position, he was superior to his humble station and was capable of acquitting himself creditably in a much higher sphere. It is from persons of his class that our prominent men are often recruited.
It may be mentioned here that, though George’s father, as he liked to boast, was a rich man, the boy himself was very mean in money matters and seldom willing to pay a fair price for anything. He was not above driving a close bargain, and to save five cents would dispute for half an hour.
“So you’ve got back young man?” said Ben Bence, the fisherman. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”
“Quite fair,” answered George in a patronizing tone. “I rowed over to Egg Island and back.”
“That’s doing very well for a city boy,” said the fisherman.
“I should think it was good for any boy or man either,” said George, annoyed at this depreciation of his great achievement.
Bence laughed.
“Why,” said he, “I’m out for four or five hours sometimes. I don’t think anything of rowing from fifteen to twenty miles, while you have rowed only six.”
“I don’t expect to row as far as a man,” said George, rather taken down.