“It’s like the Bay of Biscay,” said Mark.
“‘There she lay, all the day,
In the Bay of Biscay, O!’
“And the sails look so jolly too.”
“I can’t make it out,” said Bevis. “The sails are all proper, I’m sure they are. What can it be? We shall never get out of the gulf.”
“And after all the rowing round too,” said Mark. “Lubberly.”
“Horrid,” said Bevis. “I hope there’s no other ship about looking at us. The sailors would laugh so. I know—Mark!”
“Yes.”
“Don’t row next time; we’ll wear ship.”
“What’s that?”
“Turn the other way—with the wind. Very often the boom knocks you over or tears the mast out.”