“I shall tack soon,” said Bevis, “while we’ve got a good wind.”
“Tack now,” said Mark. “It doesn’t matter about going right across.”
“All right—now; let go.”
They tried again, just the same; the boat paused and came back: then again, and still it was of no use.
“Row,” said Bevis. “Bother!”
Mark rowed with a scull out on the lee side, and got her round.
“Now, just look,” said Bevis. “Just look!”
He pointed at the Nile. They had drifted so that when they at last turned they were nearly level with the mouth of the river from which they had started.
“Let me row quicker next time,” said Mark. “Let me row directly. It’s hateful, though.”
“It’s hateful,” said Bevis. “Sailing without tacking is stupid. Nobody would ever think we were sailors to see us rowing round.”