Frances and Jane lowered away at the ropes, taking care, in accordance with Mr. Wing’s advice, to let the stern hit the water before the bow so as not to ship any water.
“Watch me, Plain Jane, and profit by my courage,” cried Frances, grabbing a rope and sliding down it into the water.
“Rather get my head in first,” said Jane; and her body shot out from the hand-rail, describing an arc before she sank into the water, leaving barely a ripple.
“Great stuff, you kids, but I am too fat and have to wend my middle-aged way down the sea-ladder,” and Mr. Wing did it.
Soon all of them were in, Frances, Mabel and Jane, romping around like young seals, Mabel pursuing the other two, round and round the “Boojum” in her efforts to duck the two teasers.
“It’s terrible just to be able to do this silly little side stroke,” wailed Ellen to Mr. Wing and Jack, “when all the other girls swim the trudgeon, double overarm and Australian crawl just like professionals.”
“Come on, Jack, let’s teach her,” said the father of one of the envied ducks.
The two men started teaching Ellen the difficult feat of breathing with the head on one side when the arm comes up for the stroke and exhaling with the head under water. Ellen strangled and spluttered about for a while, as beginners do, time after time, reversing the order and breathing in under water and choking when she came up for the breath she was unable to take. After patience on the part of the pupil and teachers, she began making noble attempts to combine the breathing with the actual stroke.
Jane and Frances had clambered up over the stern of the dinghy which had been made fast at the end of the lowered boat-boom and were engaged in a spirited discussion of the value of salt water swimming and the value of fresh water swimming.