"You said 'Starboard' last time," remonstrated the Crew, touching his cap.
"Oh, yes. So I did. Thank you. Let me see: what comes next? Oh, yes. Port!"
The Crew, who was only waiting for the word, spun the wheel the other way; such a spin that the spokes hummed like the piping of a mosquito.
"Fine spin!" cried Margaret, enthusiastically, clapping her hands again.
"Yes. How fast it goes!" said Frances. "You can't even see the spokes."
Hearing this remark, the Crew, delighted with the compliment, smiled immensely, and stooping down with his hands on his knees he peeped through the wheel at them.
"Peek-a-boo!" cried Frances, quite forgetting the rules of the navy.
For though the Crew was presumably a grown up sailor-man, he was so small and so neat and so bright-colored and so merry-looking that it was quite impossible to take him seriously.
At this moment the boat started.