The first day that Digby went out in the John Dory, as Toby called his boat, he discovered his ignorance of nautical affairs. He had day after day been on the ponds at Bloxholme, but then John Pratt had rowed him about, and he had never thought of learning to row himself.
The river was wide at the mouth, and, as there were deep sheltered bays, it was a good place for rowing. When sailing, however, it was necessary to be careful, for gusts often came down suddenly between the cliffs, and had frequently upset boats the people in which had not been ready to let go the sheets in an instant. There was no wind this day.
“Now, young gen’man,” said Toby, looking at Digby, “you’ll just take an oar and pull with the rest?”
“Oh yes,” answered Digby, who was always ready to undertake any manual exercise, “I’ll row.”
Marshall and the other boys got out the oars. Toby eyed Digby, and guessed, by the way he handled his oar the state of the case. However, Digby persevered in silence.
The boat slowly receded from the shore, Toby steering. Digby, who sat about midships, looked at Marshall, and Easton, and Power, who sat further astern, and tried to imitate their movements. He did so very fairly. He thought that he was performing his part wonderfully well.
Toby’s nose curled more than usual as he looked at him.
“Give way, my lads, give way,” he sung out.
The other boys instantly bent to their oars, and made much more rapid strokes than before. Digby had not the slightest notion what “giving way” meant. He only knew, to his cost, that he gave way, for his oar caught in the water, and over he toppled on his back to the bottom of the boat.
“Caught a crab, caught a crab,” sung out the other boys, laughing.