“You don’t want her smashed—do you?”
“I don’t care if she is. She has been beaten, and, if she should be smashed, my father would order another.”
I did not care so much about the boat as I did about the fellows in her. I did not wish to have even one of them drowned before my eyes. I put on my coat, and then pushed off from the wharf. In a few moments we were in the thickest of it, and even the Belle curtsied so low as to take in the “drink” over her lee rail. But I eased her off so that she went along very well, as any boat will when properly handled.
“They are hoisting sail,” said Waddie.
“So much the worse for them,” I replied.
“Have they reefed her?”
“I don’t think they know enough to do that.”
“They have! What are you going to do?”
“I am going to keep near enough to them to pull them out of the water if they get overboard.”
“They are running right before the wind, toward the Gulfport point. I think they have had sailing enough for one day. Let her out a little, Wolf; perhaps we can ascertain who they are.”