"Not unless it gets rough," replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink at Harvey.
The three jumped aboard, and Coombs, with something like a grin at his partner, shoved the boat's head off. He had got the jib and mainsail up, and they caught what little breeze there was stirring. The Flyaway drew away from the landing. To Bangs's embarrassment, however, the boom suddenly swung inboard, swiped across the stern, causing him to duck hastily, and almost knocking the bonnet off the lady with the pug dog. Mr. Bangs had jibed the boat, greatly to his surprise. But no harm had been done, as the wind was light.
Mr. Bangs laughed loudly. "Meant to tell you that was coming," he said. "She'll sail better this way. Ever been on the water before, boys?"
Harvey nodded. "A little," he said.
"Well, the more you are used to it, the better you'll like it," said Mr. Bangs. "Don't mind if she tips a little, if we get any wind. She sails that way. Funny that jib flutters so. Better haul in on that rope there and—and trim it."
Henry Burns, soberly following orders, did as requested. But it was noticeable that the trimming did not seem to accomplish the result desired by Mr. Bangs. In fact, as the Flyaway was going dead before the wind, it was quite apparent that no amount of trimming would make the jib draw.
"It keeps on fluttering just the same, Augustus," said Mrs. Bangs, eying the offending sail suspiciously. "Hadn't you better tie it some way?"
"Of course not," responded Mr. Bangs, loftily. "They will act that way sometimes. Isn't that so, my lads?"
"Oh yes," replied Henry Burns. "I've seen 'em do it, haven't you, Jack?"
But Harvey was looking the other way.