“There’s an old saying that pride goeth before a fall,” Penny reminded him. “Also one about not counting your chickens.”
“Poultry never interested me,” Jack grinned, his eyes on the peak of the mainsail. “I’ll win that brass lantern trophy from Sally if it’s the last act of my life.”
Penny, who had sailed a boat for several seasons in Riverview, hoped that Jack would offer her the tiller. Oblivious to her hints, he kept the Spindrift heeling along so fast that water fairly boiled behind the rudder. Jack was a good sailor and knew it.
Observing the River Queen plying her usual course, the boy deliberately steered to cross her path. As Penny well knew, by rules of navigation the ferryboat was compelled to watch out for the smaller boat. With apparent unconcern, Jack forced the Queen to change courses.
As the boats passed fairly close to each other, Sally appeared at the railing. A bandana handkerchief covered her hair and she wore slacks and a white sweater. Watching the Spindrift with concentration, she cupped her hands and shouted:
“If you sail near Hat Island, better be careful, Jack! The river level is dropping fast this morning. There’s a shoal—”
“When I need advice from you, I’ll ask for it!” Jack replied furiously, turning his back to the ferry.
Sally waved derisively and disappeared into the pilot house.
“Why aren’t you two nicer to each other?” Penny demanded suddenly. “It seems to me you deliberately try to wave a red flag at her. For instance, sailing across the River Queen’s bow—”
“Oh, I just intend to show Sally she can’t push me around! Let’s go home.”