Three Boys | Page 7

mirth.
"You're not used to the sea?"
"No."
"We are. There, give me your hand. You sit there aft and hold the tiller,
while I help Scood run up the sails."

"Thank you, I'm much obliged. But if you could set me ashore."
"It's three miles away," said Kenneth, glancing at the mainland.
"No, no; I mean there."
"There? That's only a rocky island with a few sheep on it. And there's
such a wild race there, it's dangerous at this time of the tide."
"Are they savages?"
"Savages?"
"Yes; the wild race."
"Poof!"
"Be quiet, Scood, or I'll chuck you overboard. What are you laughing
at? I mean race of the tide. Look, you can see the whirlpools. It's the
Atlantic rushing in among the rocks. Now then, come along."
The visitor would not rise to his feet, but crept over to the after part of
the boat, where he crouched more than sat, starting violently as the
light craft swayed with the movements of its occupants, and began to
dance as well with the rising sea.
"I'm afraid you think I'm a terrible coward."
"That's just what I do think," said Kenneth to himself; but he turned
round with a look of good-humoured contempt. "Oh no," he said aloud;
"you'll soon get used to it. Now, Scood, heave ahoy. Look here, we can't
help it. If you laugh out at him, I'll smash you."
"But look at him," whispered Scood.
"I daren't, Scood. Heave ahoy!"
"Take care! Mind!" cried the visitor in agony.

"What's the matter?"
"I--I thought--Pray don't do that!"
Kenneth could not refrain from joining in Scood's mirth, but he checked
himself directly, and gave the lad a punch in the ribs, as he hauled at
the mainsail.
"You'll have the boat over!" cried the shivering guest, white now with
agony, as the sail filled and the boat careened, and began to rush
through the water.
"Take more than that to send her over," cried Kenneth merrily, as he
took the tiller. "Plenty of wind now, Scood."
Scoodrach laughed, and their passenger clung more tightly to his seat.
For the wind was rising to a good stiff breeze, the waves were
beginning to show little caps of foam, and to the new-comer it seemed
utter madness to be seated in such a frail cockle-shell, which kept on
lying over from the pressure on the sail, and riding across the waves
which hissed and rushed along the sides, and now and then sent a few
drops flying over the sail.
"You'll soon get used to it," cried Kenneth, who felt disposed at first to
be commiserating and ready to pity his guest; but the abject state of
dread displayed roused the spirit of mischief latent in the lad, and, after
a glance or two at Scoodrach, he felt compelled to enjoy his
companion's misery.
"Is--is there any danger?" faltered the poor fellow at last, as the boat
seemed to fly through the water.
"No, not much. Unless she goes down, eh, Scood?"
"Oh, she shall not go down chust direckly," said Scoodrach seriously.
"She's a prave poat to sail."
"What's the matter?" cried Kenneth, as his passenger looked wildly

round.
"Have you--a basin on board?" he faltered.
This was too much for the others. Scoodrach burst into a roar of
laughter, in which Kenneth joined for a minute, and then, checking
himself, he apologised.
"Nonsense!" he said; "you keep a stout heart. You'll like it directly. Got
a line, Scood?"
"Yes; twa."
"Bait 'em and throw 'em out; we may get a mackerel or two."
"They've got spinners on them," said the lad sententiously, as he
opened a locker in the bows, and took out a couple of reels.
"Don't--go quite so fast," said the visitor imploringly.
"Why not? It's safer like this--eh, Scood?"
"Oh yes; she's much safer going fast."
"But the waves! They'll be in the boat directly."
"Won't give 'em time to get in--will we, Scood? Haul in that sheet a
little tighter."
This was done, and the boat literally rushed through the water.
"There, you're better already, aren't you?"
"I--I don't know."
"Oh, but I do. You'll want to have plenty of sails like this."
"In the young master's poat," said Scoodrach, watching the stranger
with eyes which sparkled with mischief. "Wouldn't the young

chentleman like to see the Grey Mare's Tail?"
"Ah, to be sure!" cried Kenneth; "you'd like to see that."
"Is--is the grey mare ashore?" faltered the visitor.
"Yes, just round that point--a mile ahead."
"Yes, please--I should like to see that," said the guest, with a sigh of
relief, for he seemed to see safety in being nearer the shore.
"All right! We'll run for it," cried Kenneth; and he slightly altered the
boat's course, so as to draw a little nearer to