Mr. Rowe is quite right. A canal is nothing to a river.
There was a wide piece of water between us and one of the banks now, and other barges went by us, some sailing, some towing only, and two or three with women at the rudder, and children on the deck.
"I wouldn't have my wife and fam'ly on board for something!" said Mr. Rowe grimly.
"Have you got a family, Mr. Rowe?" I inquired.
"Yes, sir," said the barge-master. "I have, like other folk. But women and children's best ashore."
"Of course they are," said I.
"If you was to turn over in your mind what they might be good for now," he continued, with an unfathomable eye on the mistress of a passing canal-boat, "you'd say washing the decks and keeping the pots clean. And they don't do it as well as a man—not by half."
"They seem to steer pretty well," said I.
"I've served in very different vessels to what I'm in now," said Mr. Rowe, avoiding a reply, "and I may come as low as a monkey-barge and coal; but I'm blessed if ever I see myself walk on the towing-path and leave the missus in command on board."
At this moment a barge came sailing alongside of us.