“A nice boat,” said Aleck. “The ‘Lottie,’ eh?”
“Yes—fair to middlin’ name. I’ve sailed a bit in me life. What’s that—will I hire me boat? Say that again, youngster—will I hire me boat?”
“That’s what I asked,” said George, smilingly. “Eh, Aleck, we’ll go back to meet the ‘Gray Gull.’ Say, why can’t we?”
“Suits me to a dot.”
“Then let’s start right off. Come on, Mr. Hollback; we’ll have a jolly nice sail,” and George walked over to the edge of a rickety wharf.
Old Bill and his dog arose.
“You have spoke the cheerfulest words I’ve hearn fur a long spell,” he said. “‘Will I hire me boat?’ Them words don’t sound nateral. Would ye mind sayin’ them again?” and Old Bill chuckled mirthfully, as George complied.
Old Bill Hollback was a good sailor and knew how to get the benefit of all the breeze that was stirring, and the “Lottie” was soon standing out from the wharf.
Vivid patches of blue sky showed in many places, and the sunlight streamed through the openings. The afternoon and evening promised to be delightful.
The “Lottie” was a speedy boat, and the stiff breeze filled out her sail; and, now and then, her bow, plunging into the whitecapped waves, sent a sheet of spray flying over the gunwale.