The Voyage Auspiciously Begun and Promptly Ended.
A voyage up the east coast of Great Britain and through the Pentland Firth does not usually take a long time. When the vessel is a swift little schooner-yacht, and the breeze is stiff as well as fair, the voyage is naturally a brief one.
Everything favoured the little Fairy. Sun, moon, and stars cheered her, and winds were propitious, so that our voyagers soon found themselves skimming over the billows of the western sea.
It was one part of Mabberly’s plan that he and his friends should do duty as part of the crew. He was himself accustomed to the handling of yachts, and Barret he knew had been familiar with the management of boats from childhood.
“You can steer, of course?” he had asked Giles Jackman almost as soon as they were fairly at sea.
“Well, ye–es, oh yes. No doubt I could steer if I were to try.”
“Have you never tried?” asked his friend in surprise.
“Oh yes, I have tried—once. It was on an occasion when a number of us had gone on a picnic. We had to proceed part of the way to our destination by river in a small boat, which was managed by a regular old sea-dog—I forget his name, for we generally hailed him by the title of Old Salt. Some of the impatient members of the party suggested a little preliminary lunch. There are always people ready to back up impatient suggestions! It was agreed to, and Old Salt was ordered to open the provision basket, which had been stowed away in the bows of the boat. ‘Would you steer, sir?’ said Old Salt to me, as he rose to go forward. ‘Certainly, with pleasure,’ said I, for, as you know, it’s an old weakness of mine to be obliging! Well, in a few minutes they were all eating away as if they’d had no breakfast, while we went merrily down the river, with the current and a light breeze in our favour.
“Suddenly Old Salt shouted something that was smothered in its passage through a bite of sandwich. I looked up, and saw a native canoe coming straight towards us. ‘Port!’ roared Old Salt, in an explosion that cleared away half the sandwich. ‘No, thankee; I prefer sherry,’ said I. But I stopped there, for I saw intuitively from the yell with which he interrupted me that something was wrong. ‘Hard a-port!’ he cried, jumping up and scattering his rations. I shoved the tiller hard to the side that suggested itself, and hoped for the best. The worst followed, for we struck the native canoe amidships, as it was steering wildly out of our way, and capsized it! There were only two men in it, and they could swim like ducks; but the river was full of alligators, and two sharp-set ones were on the scent instantly. It is my opinion that those two natives would, then and there, have been devoured, if we had not run in between and made such a splashing and hullaballoo with boat-hook, oars, and voices, that the monsters were scared away. I have never steered since that day.”
“I don’t wonder; and, with my consent, you shall not steer now,” said Mabberly, laughing. “Why, Giles, I was under the impression that you understood everything, and could do almost anything!”