Answers of "Frequently."
"Well, then," said Jack, as he stood with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, "I ask you to drink with me to the health of 'The Chaperon,' who is nigh unto death."
All stood up, and were loudly echoing, "The Chaperon—nigh unto death!" when a long hand came down the skylight overhead and a voice was heard from on high, saying:
"Nothing of the kind. How dare you, you bad boy? Just put something into my hand and I'll drink my own health. I don't need your assistance at all."
Cheers broke out from the noisy gathering, and they all rushed on deck to see Mrs. Dusenall drink her own health, which she bravely accomplished.
They were a riotous lot. All the boat wanted was a policeman to keep them in something more like order, for a small joke received too much credit with them, and they laughed too easily.
Frenchman's Bay and Whitby were passed before they came up from lunch. Oshawa could be seen far away on the shore, as the yacht buzzed along with unabated speed. A speck on the horizon had risen up out of the sea to be called Raby Head—the sand-bluff near Darlington. Small yellow and green squares on the far-off brown uplands that rolled back from the shores denoted that there were farms in that vicinity; dark-blue spots, like feathery tufts, appeared here and there where the timber forests had been left untouched, and among them small marks or lines of white would occasionally appear where, on looking through the glasses, little railway trains seemed to be toiling like ants across the landscape.
There was no ceremony to be observed, nor could it be seen that anybody endeavored to keep up conversations which required any effort. The men, lounging about on the white decks, seemed to smoke incessantly while they watched the water hissing along the sides of the vessel, or lay on their backs and watched the masthead racing with the white clouds down the lake, and the girls, disposed on cushions, tried to read novels and failed. The sudden change to the fresh breezes of the lake, and the long but spirited rise and fall of the vessel made them soon doze away, or else remain in that peaceful state of mind which does not require books or masculine society or music, or anything else except a continuation of things just as they are. Granby and Newcastle were mentioned as the yacht passed by, but most of the party were drowsy, and few even raised their heads to see what little could be seen. Port Hope created but feeble interest, though the Gull Light, perched on the rocks far out in the lake, appeared romantic and picturesque. It seemed like true yachting to be approaching a strange lighthouse sitting like a white seabird on the dangerous-looking reefs, where the waves could be seen dashing up white and frothy.
Somewhere off Port Hope, about three or four miles away from the "Gull," one of the sailors had quietly remarked to the man at the wheel:
"We're a-goin' to run out of the wind."