They were not far from right in this respect; but they ought to have known that a boat needs skilful handling at such a time. They had continued on their course about half-way across the lake. They did not seem to know enough to ease off the sheet when the heavy flaws came, or to “touch her up” with the helm. When it came so heavy that they could stand it no longer, they lowered the sail. A boat without any sail on, even in a blow, is as bad as an unruly horse without a bridle. She must have steerageway, or she cannot be controlled. She was now in the trough of the sea, rolling helplessly in the billows—now dipping in the water on one side, and now on the other.
When I ran in at the pier Waddie jumped on board of the Belle. He had put on his coat and vest, but still complained that he was very cold. I had some old coats in my cabin, which I offered to him, and, though they were not fashionable garments, he was glad to avail himself of my wardrobe.
“It blows heavier than ever, Waddie,” I said, while he was putting on one of the ragged and weather-stained overcoats.
“If you can’t run up to town, I can go on shore and walk up,” he replied, glancing at the angry lake.
“Oh, I can go it, well enough; but I was thinking of those fellows out there.”
“I shall not waste much fine feeling upon them, you had better believe!”
“They have lowered the sail, and are rolling about there like mud-turtles on a log. The boat must be full of water.”
“She will not sink, and as long as they hold on they will be safe enough.”
“I am not so sure of that, Waddie. They are drifting like mad toward the rocky point above Gulfport. If they run your boat on those sharp rocks, it will be all day with them.”
“I don’t care for the boat.”