"I don't know any thing more about a sailboat than I do about making turtle-soup," added Sam.
"That won't prevent you from telling Tom to come about and go to the wharf by the boat-house."
Sam Spottwood had not thought of this before. If he told the skipper to go back, he thought he must explain how it was to be done.
"This won't do, Tom Topover!" said he vigorously, as he walked aft through the standing-room. "We are going away from the wharf all the time, and we shall never get there at this rate."
"I suppose you don't know much about a boat, but you have to sail as the wind will let you," replied Tom in an airy manner, as though he comprehended the subject perfectly.
"I don't know any thing about a sailboat, but I think it is high time we were getting near the wharf," added Sam.
"I was just thinking so myself, and I will turn her about now," said Tom, as he cast his eyes about him like a prudent sailor before he changes the position of his vessel.
In this part of the lake the country was more open than farther up the creek, and the wind from the great lake came fresh over the lowlands at the mouth of Beaver River. As Sam spoke, the breeze freshened; and, as the boat happened to have a "good full," she heeled over till her gunwale was very near the surface of the water. This sudden jerk frightened all in the boat except Ash Burton; and the captain more than any one else, for he felt the responsibility of his position.
Tom Topover was bound to do something to counteract the pressure of the wind against the sail; and he put the helm hard up, instead of hard down as he should have done. He neglected to cast off the main sheet, which he had made fast to the cleat. The result was that the boat came as near going over as she could in that amount of wind. The skipper was so mixed up that he did not know what to do next, and he moved the wheel over the other way as soon as the boat had gybed. A moment later the Goldwing repeated the operation, for she was not used to being handled in this clumsy manner.
Tom whirled the wheel from one side to the other, for he did not know what he was about; and finally she was again headed into the outlet, with her sail drawing on the starboard tack. He could make her go as she had gone before, and that was all he could do.