Frank found it was not so easy a matter to steer a sailboat as he had supposed; for one moment he stopped the boat by "throwing her up into the wind," and the next ran her almost on shore by "keeping away."
"Keep her away!" cried Uncle Ben. "That will do; steady as she is. No, no; you are six p'ints off the course now. Luff a little! Hard a port!"
"I don't know what you mean, Uncle Ben; I think you had better steer yourself," said Frank, resigning the helm.
"I think I had."
Under the old sailor's skilful management, the boat soon reached Centre Isle, where they decided to land.
"Now, boys, if you want to celebrate a little, here's half a dozen bunches of crackers," said Uncle Ben, as he took a little package from the locker in the stern of the boat.
"Bravo, Uncle Ben! We will have a nice time."
"Now, if you are of a mind to stay here and have a good time, while I sail over to the other shore to see a sick man, I will give you a good sail when I return."
"Hurrah! we will, Uncle Ben. Have you got any matches?"
"There are matches and a slowmatch in the bundle," replied Uncle Ben, as he pushed off. "Now blaze away, and don't burn your fingers."