But Bagg was at sea. And the punt was a small one. It was not Jimmie Grimm’s fishing 137 punt; it was a shallow little rodney, which Jimmie’s father used for going about in when the ice and seals were off the coast. It was so small and light that it could be carried over the pans of ice from one lane of open water to another. And being small and light it was cranky. It was no rough weather boat; nor was it a boat to move very much about in, as both boys were quite well aware.
Bagg heard Jimmie’s oars rattle in the row-locks and the blades strike the water. The boat moved forward. Jimmie began to row with all his strength––almost angrily. It was plain that he was losing his temper. And not only did he lose his temper; he had grown tired before he regained it.
“Here, Bagg,” said he; “you have a go at it.”
“I’ll ’ave a try,” Bagg agreed.
Jimmie let the oars swing to the side and Bagg made ready to steady the little boat. Bagg heard him rise. The boat rocked a little.
“Steady!” Bagg gasped.
“Steady, yourself!” Jimmie retorted. “Think I don’t know how t’ get around in a rodney?”
It was now so dark, what with night and fog, that Bagg could not see Jimmie. But presently 138 he understood that Jimmie was on his feet waiting for him to rise in his turn. They were to exchange places. Bagg got to his feet, and, with all the caution he could command, advanced a step, stretching out his hands as he did so. But Bagg had not been born on the coast and was not yet master of himself in a boat. He swayed to the left––fairly lurched.
“Have a care!” Jimmie scolded.