Nell was very fond of rowing, and she expressed a wish that they might go out in one of the open boats. She would row. So the three chums escaped the younger children the next afternoon and slipped over to the other side of the island, across the sand dunes.
They found an old fisherman who was perfectly willing to hire them a boat, and, really, it was not a bad boat, either. At least, it had been washed out and the seats were clean. The oars were rather heavier than Nell Stanley was used to.
“You need heavy oars on this bay, young lady,” declared the boat-owner. “Nothing fancy does here. When a squall comes up——”
“Oh, but you don’t think it looks like a squall this afternoon, do you?” Jessie interrupted.
“Dunno. Can’t tell. Ain’t nothing sartain about it,” said the pessimistic old fellow. “Sometimes you get what you don’t most expect on this bay. I been here, man and boy, all my life, and I give you my word I don’t know nothing about the weather.”
“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Amy, under her breath. “What a Job’s comforter he is! Who ever heard of a fisherman before who didn’t know all about the weather?”
“Maybe we had better not go far,” Jessie, who was easily troubled, said hesitatingly.
“Come on,” said Nell. “He just wants to keep us from going out far. He is afraid for his old tub of a boat.”
She said this rather savagely, and Jessie thought it better to say nothing more of a doubtful nature, having two against her. Besides, the sky seemed quite clear and the bay was scarcely ruffled by the wind.
The old man sat and smoked and watched them push off from the landing without offering to help. He did not even offer to ship the rudder for them, although that was a clumsy operation. When Jessie and Amy had managed to secure it in place, while Nell settled herself at the oars, the old man shouted: