Part 2 (2/2)
”Better get your boots off, then.”
”Who do you suppose could swim ash.o.r.e in such a sea as this? Besides, it is over a half a mile, and the surf on the beach would tear a fellow all to pieces.”
”You ought to have thought of these things before you came out here.”
”It is a great deal worse than I had any idea of,” answered Thomas, who had proceeded far enough to be willing to yield a point. ”For my part, I am willing to be landed here;” and he pointed to a little cove on the Tenean sh.o.r.e.
”You don't say you have got enough of it, Tom,” said Paul, with a smile.
”Enough of it! I want to get to the picnic some time to-day. I hope you don't think I am frightened.”
”Of course I don't; you daresn't be frightened after all your big talk before we came out.”
”I'll give up on that, Paul. You are the s.p.u.n.kiest fellow with a boat I ever saw. I am willing to say that and stick to it.”
”That's saying a good deal.”
”But you mustn't suppose I am afraid.”
”Of course not; you're only in a hurry to get to the picnic; that's the idea.”
”That's just it, and if you will put me ash.o.r.e at the cove, I will be just as much obliged to you as though you carried me all the way to the Point.”
”Let's not back out, Tom.”
”I don't back out; and I'm sure you don't.”
”It looks a little like backing out to give up the chase.”
”You ought to be satisfied, if I am.”
”I shan't be satisfied till I land you at the Point.”
”Come, come, Paul, don't carry the joke too far. The sea is getting heavier and heavier, and the wind blows a young hurricane.”
”O, well, if you really want to back out, I'm willing.”
”I don't want to do anything of the sort. If you think I can't stand it as long as you can, you are mistaken,” replied Thomas, proudly; and taking the dipper, he continued to bale out the water, whistling an air to indicate his indifference to the perils that surrounded them.
”Put her through, then; we shan't be much longer if we don't get swamped.”
The boat was now standing out from the sh.o.r.e, and while Thomas was still busy, whistling off his fears, a violent gust of wind struck the sail, causing the boat to heel over so far that she drank up several buckets of water, and would have filled if the sprit had not broken, thus removing the pressure.
”Come, Paul, I have got enough of this,” cried Thomas, uneasily.
”I don't think you will be able to get any more of it, for the sprit has snapped, and we can't carry sail any longer,” replied Paul, apparently unmoved by the accident. ”Bale her out as fast as you can, and I will take an oar, and keep her head up to the sea”.
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