"I want to
go out this morning;" and he agreed.
The boat arrived at a little after three--an open boat with a mast. No
deck; nowhere to be comfortable, as the boom swung almost level with
the bulwarks. There was a foot of water in her.
Her owner arrived while I was noting these things.
He looked at her with pride. "She's a good boat," he said. "She used
to be a lifeboat, with tanks in her to keep her buoyant, but I took
them out."
"I was expecting one with a deck," I said.
"Deck? Who wants a deck?" he answered. "She's all right. You must keep
baling, that's all. She would, be all the better for some white-lead
and paint."
"Why not give them to her?" I asked.
He pointed to an island about a mile distant and a headland half a
mile across the bay. "Keep within those two spots," he said, "and
you'll be all right. It's not safe to take her beyond. There might
be squalls."
"Rather limited," I suggested.
"There's grand water in between," he said. "Deep too in places. Nine
fathoms."
"Where's the man to sail her?" I asked.
"The man?" he replied. "Aren't you going to sail her yourself? Your
letter said nothing about a man."
"Good heavens!" I said, "you surely wouldn't let a total stranger try
to sail a boat here among all these unknown rocks and currents?"
From his manner it was plain that he would, cheerfully.
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