“You’re not afraid of water, are you, Dick?”
“Not partickler, your Reverence. Why should I?”
“Well, your being so little in the habit of washing your face—if I am right in my reckoning, only once a week—may plead my excuse for asking the question.”
“Oh, Father Rogier! That wor only in the time past, when I lived alone, and the thing worn’t worth while. Now, going more into respectable company, I do a little washin’ every day.”
“I’m glad to hear of your improved habits, and that they keep pace with the promotion you’ve had. But my inquiry had no reference to your ablutions; rather to your capabilities as a swimmer. If I mistake not, you can swim like a fish?”
“No, not equal to a fish. That ain’t possible.”
“An otter, then?”
“Somethin’ nearer he, if ye like,” answers Coracle, laughingly.
“I supposed as much. Never mind. About the degree of your natatory powers we needn’t dispute. I take it they’re sufficient for reaching either bank of this river, supposing the skiff to get capsized and you in it?”
“Lor, Father Rogier! That wouldn’t be nothin’! I could swim to eyther shore, if ’twor miles off.”