"I thought," said Harry, as the steamboat passed between the Ghost and the New York shore, "that 'starboard' meant right, and 'port' left."
"So it does."
"Then how did that tug turn to the left when you said she was going to starboard her helm?"
"If I push the tiller over to the left-hand side of the boat, I port my helm; but the boat turns to the right, doesn't she? Well, the tiller is really the helm, and every vessel, whether she is steered with a wheel or not, has a tiller, though it may not be in sight. Now when the helm is pushed or pulled toward the port side, the vessel turns her head to starboard, and when it's pushed toward the starboard side, she turns her head to port. You've got to remember this, for some day if one of you is steering, and I sing out 'port,' you mustn't make any mistake about it."
"I understand," said Joe. "The boat is always to do the opposite of what you tell me to do if I'm steering. When you tell me to 'port,' the boat will turn to the starboard, and when you tell me to 'starboard,' she'll turn to port. It's very scientific, but it is what I call awfully contrary."
"The easiest rule for understanding a steamer's whistle is this," continued Charley. "If she blows one whistle, she means to pass on the port side of you; and if she blows two, she means to pass on your starboard side. Now there are two syllables in starboard, and one in port, and if you imagine that the two whistles spell 'starboard' and the one whistle spells 'port,'you won't ever make any mistake."
After this explanation the boys amused themselves listening to the steam-whistles, and translating them into "starboard" and "port." They soon saw that the steamers, which could tell what they wanted to do, were not half so troublesome as the sailing vessels, and that Charley watched the latter with much greater care than he did the former.
"There ought to be steam-whistles or something of the kind on those schooners," said Harry, presently. "I suppose they do just as they please about running people down."
"Oh no," replied Charley. "There's a set of rules for them too. The captain of that big fellow over there knows that he has the right of way over the schooner with the torn mainsail, and that he must keep out of the way of the one with the three masts, close over there by the shore. It all depends on the course each one is steering; but I'm too busy to explain it just now. If they obeyed the rules, it would be all right, but the trouble is they don't consider that a small sail-boat has any rights, and if we don't want to get run down, we've got to look out for ourselves and keep out of the way. The steamboats would be just as bad, only when a steamboat runs anybody down, somebody is sure to say something about it, and get the captain into a scrape; so they have to be more careful."
The boys were glad when they passed out of the East River, and by way of Buttermilk Channel reached the bay, where by skirting the Long Island shore they were out of the track of steamers and other craft. They had a delightful sail through the Narrows and down the broad outer bay, where there was a long gentle swell that gave the boat a just perceptible roll. About four o'clock they reached the mouth of the little creek which separates Coney Island from Long Island, and found it so narrow and shallow that they began to think it was not navigable for anything larger than a row-boat. Charley allowed the boat to run her bow gently against the shore, and told Joe to keep her from drifting off while he climbed up the mast hoops to see how the land and water lay.