Little By Little | Page 5

his tuition his son had learned all the mysteries of sailing a
boat. Like most boys, he was disposed to be more daring than was
necessary, and it was often that his father and mother found occasion to
check him in the pursuit of bold enterprises. Paul was passionately fond
of the water, and was proud of his nautical skill and knowledge.
Aquatic sports were all the rage at Bayville, and there were very few
gentlemen who had the means that did not own boats of some kind. In
the summer season the harbor always presented a brilliant display of
yachts, sail boats, and wherries. The largest of these was the Flyaway, a
splendid yacht of fifty-two tons, which was jointly owned by Major
Nettle and Captain Littleton. Even the boys of the High School had a
club boat, which in the warm season, not only afforded them fine sport,
but plenty of healthy exercise for the proper development of their
physical organization.

On the first day of May, when our story opens, the scholars of the High
School had a picnic at Tenean Point, and the boat club had gone down
to participate in the festivities of the occasion. Thomas Nettle had been
to the city in the morning, and had not returned in season to go down
with the club, of which he was a member. It was four miles to the Point
by the road, and only half that distance by water, when the wind
permitted the passage in a straight line. He did not like the idea of
walking so far, choosing rather to incur the danger of being drowned by
the upsetting of Paul's old boat.
In spite of the strong wind and the heavy sea, Paul kept the boat on her
course, though, as the tide was against her, she did not make much
headway.
"Can you weather South Point, Paul?" asked Thomas, who had been
silent for some time.
"I'm afraid I can't; this old boat makes about as much leeway as
headway."
"It is pretty rough out here--isn't it?"
"Rather," replied Paul, indifferently.
"She takes in a good deal of water."
"Mostly spray; you can bale her out, if you have a mind to do so."
Thomas was glad to have something in the shape of occupation, for it
required all his power to conceal a certain nervousness, which he would
not have had Paul see for all the world. He took the tin kettle, and
worked as though the safety of the craft depended entirely upon his
efforts.
The wind seemed to increase rather than diminish in force, and the sail
was becoming more exciting every moment; but Paul maintained his
self-possession, and though he had some doubts about his ability to
keep the old craft right side up, he did not permit his companion to

know that he had a single misgiving.
"We can't fetch by the Point," said he, when Thomas had done baling.
"Better come about then; we may get ashore on the rocks."
"Good!" exclaimed Paul, with a hearty laugh.
"What is the matter now?" demanded Thomas.
"The idea of striking a rock on the weather side!" laughed Paul.
"You are right; I didn't think."
The boat now came into comparatively still water, under the lee of
Long Island, as the outermost of three small islets, extending out in a
line from the mouth of the river, was called. The island was a mass of
rocks, rising from ten to twenty feet above high water mark, and as they
got behind it, they were sheltered from the force of the wind. In this
situation, Paul attempted to tack; but the old boat would not come
round in stays, for she had partially lost her headway, and the tide was
against her.
"That's bad," said Thomas; "we shall lose all we have gained by this."
"Take an oar and heave her head round, then," replied Paul.
"Ay, ay;" and Thomas took the oar, and brought her head up to the
wind.
There was a coolness and self-possession in the demeanor of Paul
which filled his companion with confidence as well as admiration,
though he was in no humor to acknowledge it. If Thomas was not
actually terrified by the sweeping billows and the rude pitching of the
boat, it was only because he felt that he was in the charge of a skilful
boatman. The old craft soon caught the wind on the other tack, and
drove out among the big waves again.
Paul's mother was still on the beach watching the uneasy movements of

the boat, and in momentary expectation that she would be swamped.
Her earnest gestures were disregarded by her son, and she was prepared
for the worst fate that could befall him. Paul tried to keep his