He had never steered with a wheel, but I undertook to teach him—although the art of steering, whether with a wheel or with a tiller, cannot be taught. One learns to steer by feeling. And Pukkie was alert and anxious to learn. I told him to keep the boat headed for the lighter, at which he looked at me in surprise, and suggested that it might be too far to get back in half an hour. It was; but I did not tell him so.
Thereafter, for some time, the boat cut some astonishing capers, which must have set those fishermen to wondering. We passed the fish traps, with men in rowboats busy with taking in the catch; and we passed innumerable terns, or, rather, they passed us, and they were fishing and sending forth their harsh metallic cry; and we saw a pair of fishhawks, and they too were fishing. All fishing. Truly, the business of the waters is catching fish. And Pukkie was getting the hang of the wheel and steering a straighter course, so that he could give some attention to other matters.
There were rocks which looked like monsters just risen from the deep, and with the water washing over their backs.
"They look like submarines," said Pukkie. "Don't they, daddy?"
I explained to him the appearance of the back of a modern submarine; but the rocks did remind me of submarines. Everything reminds me of submarines. And we saw, afar off upon the water, a small gray speck. And the speck grew until it became a motor-boat, painted a dark gray. Why they paint them a gray that is almost black is a mystery. There is no concealment in it. This motor-boat was small, and was heading right for us, it seemed.
"Is that a chaser, daddy?" Pukkie seems to have the jargon pat. Probably he learned it at school. "It isn't very fast, is it? It couldn't catch a submarine, could it? It wouldn't be any use to chase with that." His words held a depth of scorn. Always submarines. I cannot get away from them. "Why don't you go out and chase them, daddy? I should think you would like to. I would."
I am thankful that he cannot. I gave him some answer that seemed to satisfy him.
"That chaser is trying to meet us," he resumed. "Whichever way I go, she goes too."
It did look so; but it was a small boat and slow. I thought that we could beat her likely enough, if it came to a chase, but Pukkie would not have it so. He wanted to meet her, and asked me to steer.
We met in a few minutes, and the pleasant-faced ensign hailed me and asked if I had a license or a permit or something. I knew nothing of any permit, and I told him so, and he said that they were required, and we had to turn about and sail back again. It was just as well, for we were like to be over our half-hour; and we got in well ahead of the motor-boat.