"Better come about then; we may get ashore on the rocks."
"Good!" exclaimed Paul, with a hearty laugh.
"What is the matter now?" demanded Thomas.
"The idea of striking a rock on the weather side!" laughed Paul.
"You are right; I didn't think."
The boat now came into comparatively still water, under the lee of Long Island, as the outermost of three small islets, extending out in a line from the mouth of the river, was called. The island was a mass of rocks, rising from ten to twenty feet above high water mark, and as they got behind it, they were sheltered from the force of the wind. In this situation, Paul attempted to tack; but the old boat would not come round in stays, for she had partially lost her headway, and the tide was against her.
"That's bad," said Thomas; "we shall lose all we have gained by this."
"Take an oar and heave her head round, then," replied Paul.
"Ay, ay;" and Thomas took the oar, and brought her head up to the wind.
There was a coolness and self-possession in the demeanor of Paul which filled his companion with confidence as well as admiration, though he was in no humor to acknowledge it. If Thomas was not actually terrified by the sweeping billows and the rude pitching of the boat, it was only because he felt that he was in the charge of a skilful boatman. The old craft soon caught the wind on the other tack, and drove out among the big waves again.