Three Boys | Page 5

you so," cried Scoodrach. "Look at him. She'd bite you if you wass near."
"For two pins I'd give him a good peppering," grumbled Kenneth, slipping a couple of cartridges into the gun, and laying it down.
"Not you," said Scood, stepping the mast, Kenneth helping him with the stays, and to hoist a couple of sails. Then the rudder was hooked on, and, as the rapid current bore them out beyond the point, the wind filled the sails, the boat careened over, the water rattled beneath her bows, and, as the little vessel seemed to stand still, the beautiful panorama of rocky, tree-adorned shore glided by, Sneeshing's furious barking growing more distant, and dying right away.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE GUEST FROM LONDON.
It was well on in the afternoon when Scoodrach, who was lying upon his chest with his chin resting on the boat's gunwale, suddenly exclaimed,--
"There she is."
The sun was shining down hotly, there was not a breath of air, and Kenneth, who seemed as languid as the drooping sails, slowly turned his head round to look at a cloud of smoke which appeared to be coming round a distant point of land.
Hours had passed since they sailed away from Dunroe, and for a time they had had a favourable wind; then it had drooped suddenly, leaving the sea like glass, and the boat rising and falling softly upon the swell. There had been nothing to shoot but gulls, which, knowing they were safe, had come floating softly round, looking at them with inquiring eyes, and then glided away. They had gazed down through the water at the waving tangle, and watched the shoals of glistening young fish. They had whistled for wind, but none had come, and then, as they lay in the boat at the mercy of the swift tide, the hot hours of the noontide had glided by, even as the current which bore them along the shore, helpless unless they had liked to row, and that they had not liked to do upon such a glowing day.
"I don't believe that's she," said Kenneth lazily. "That's the cargo boat. Grenadier must have gone by while you were asleep."
"While she wass what?" cried Scood sharply. "Haven't been to sleep."
"Yes, you have. You snored till the boat wobbled."
"She didn't. She never does snore. It wass you."
"All right. Dessay it was," said Kenneth, yawning. "Oh, I say, Scood, I'm getting so hungry, and we can't get back."
"Yes, we can. We shall have to row."
"I'm not going to row all those miles against tide, I can tell you."
"Very well. We shall have to wait."
"I can't wait. I want my dinner."
"It is the Grenadier!" cried Scood, after a long look. "I can see her red funnel."
"You can't at this distance."
"Yes, I can. The sun's shining on it; and there's the wind coming."
"How do you know?"
"Look at the smoke. We shall get home by six."
"But I'm hungry now. I shall have to shoot something to eat. I say, Scood, why shouldn't I shoot you?"
"Don't know," said Scoodrach, grinning.
"Wonder whether you'd be tough."
"Wait and eat him," said Scood, grinning.
"Eat whom?"
"The London laddie."
Kenneth, in his idle, drowsy fit, had almost forgotten the visitor, and he roused up now, and gazed earnestly at the approaching cloud of smoke, for the steamer was quite invisible.
"It is the Grenadier," said Kenneth; "and she's bringing the wind with her."
"Shouldn't say she," muttered Scood.
"Yes, I should, stupid. Ships are shes."
"Said you'd kick me if I said `she,'" muttered Scood.
"So I will if you call me `she.' I'm not a ship. Hurrah! Here's the wind at last."
For the mainsail began to shiver slightly, and the glassy water to send forth scintillations instead of one broad silvery gleam.
Kenneth seized the tiller, and the next minute they were gliding through the water, trying how near the duck-shaped boat would sail to the wind.
For the next half-hour they were tacking to and fro right in the course of the coming steamer, till, judging their distance pretty well, sail was lowered, oars put out, and they rowed till the faces which crowded the forward part of the swift boat were plain to see. Soon after, while the cloud of smoke seemed to have become ten times more black, and the cloud of gulls which accompanied the steamer by contrast more white, the paddles ceased churning up the clear water and sending it astern in foam, a couple of men in blue jerseys stood ready to throw a rope, which Scood caught, and turned round the thwart forward, and Kenneth stood up, gazing eagerly at the little crowd by the paddle-box.
"How are you, captain?"
"How are you, squire?"
"Any one for us?"
"Yes. Young gent for Dunroe," said a man with a gold-braided cap.
"Where is he?"
"Here just now. Here's his luggage," said one of the men in blue jerseys. "There he is."
"Now