The owner of the Sea-Lark exchanged places with Tony, and the sloop ran slowly toward the ocean under his guiding hand. The breeze was light and steady, and she barely made three knots an hour, but at that moment Jack would not have exchanged places with the captain of the finest liner afloat. The gentle swish of water at the stern was as sweetest music to his ears. The occasional lazy flap of the sails, the barely perceptible swaying of the deck, the quick turn of the prow in response to the slightest movement of the spokes in his hands, all were delights which he was now tasting for the first time in his own boat.
“Well,” said Tony, who had been watching the expression on the captain’s face, “what do you think of her? Was she worth the trouble?”
“A thousand times!” Jack replied, devoutly.
After negotiating the short canal the sloop passed into the sea, and then, running south past Gull Island, headed for the end of the breakwater and the open ocean beyond.
A mile off shore the breeze freshened sufficiently to send the Sea-Lark bowling along at a fair caper. The swish of water at the stern became more pronounced. The halyards creaked a little, and the bow responded even more readily to a movement of the wheel. The Sea-Lark had come into her own again. She seemed like a living thing. There was joyousness in the way she danced, as, going further from shore, she ran into gentle undulating swells, which kissed her as if welcoming her back to her natural element.
“Let’s see you put her through a few manœuvers,” Tony suggested. “Haul her by the wind. I’m going to keep still and watch.”
“Close haul your mains’l, Mr. Mate,” ordered Jack.
George sprang to obey, and in came the boom, whereupon Jack headed away to the southwest.
“That’s right,” declared Tony. “You can come closer to the wind yet. Come round till the luff of the mains’l begins to lift. That’s the style. Now put your helm down and go onto the other tack.”
“Mind your head, George!” sang out the captain.