“I bet he’s getting a blister on his hand, too,” said Katy.
“Yes, Ernest, you’d better let me have a turn.” Sherm slid over to the rower’s seat and reached his hand for the oars, which Ernest yielded reluctantly.
194Sherm had spent one summer near Lake Michigan and was a better oarsman than Ernest. The boat skimmed along smoothly. “Good for you, Sherm, you have a strong, even stroke,” the Captain praised.
Presently the girls began to sing, Ernest and Sherm joining in. Captain Clarke listened happily to the young voices until they struck up “Soft and Low over the Western Sea.” They all loved it and were crooning it sweetly, but the Captain’s face went white as they sang: “Father will come to his babe in the nest.” “Don’t!” he exclaimed involuntarily.
They all looked at him in surprise. He regained his self-possession instantly, saying with a smile: “Go on–don’t mind my twinge of rheumatism–I slept in a draught last night. That is one of the loveliest things Tennyson has ever written.”
The young people finished the song and began another, but they wondered. The spell of the evening was broken. Soon after, they started home.
