Digby jumped up immediately, full of eagerness, not minding his bruises a bit.
“Have I? Where is he? where is he? Let me see him,” he exclaimed.
This made the rest laugh still more.
“It’s only the sort of crab most young ge’men catches when first they begins to learn to row,” said Toby; “jump up and take your oar, and you’ll soon catch another, I warrant.”
So Digby found, but he was not a boy to be beat by such an occurrence. Each time he jumped up as quickly as he could, and grasping his oar, went on pulling as before.
“What do you mean by ‘Give way?’” he asked, when he discovered that these words invariably produced the unpleasant results.
“I means much the same as the soldier officers does when they says ‘Double quick march.’”
“Oh, I see, we are to make the boat go as fast as we can,” observed Digby.
After that he caught fewer crabs, Toby having also advised him not to dip the blade of his oar so deeply in the water. In a few days he learned how to feather his oar, that is, when lifting the blade out of the water, to turn it, so as to keep it almost horizontal with the surface. This is done that it may not hold wind, and in a rough sea, that it may be less likely to be struck by a wave, or if it is, that it may cut through the top. He also learned to keep time with the rest, a very essential requisite in rowing.
“You’ve done capitally,” said Marshall, after they landed the first day, “many fellows have been here for some time before they have done as well.”