d carry the names and
uses of all without confusion. There was not much wind up there in the
lagoon, or the river, as it is more politely called; but what there was
came from the westward, and the skipper said it was fair to take us
down to the lake.

"Cast off the painter," continued Mr. Whippleton.

"Who?"

"The painter."

"He's not here; and if he was, I shouldn't like to cast him off here,
where the water is so dirty; I would rather wait till we come to a
cleaner place," I replied.

"That rope by which the boat is fastened to the wharf is called a
painter," added the skipper.

"O, is it?" I replied, unfastening the rope at the shore end, and
pulling it on board.

"That's it. You will be as salt as a boiled lobster one of these days,
Phil."

I thanked him for the compliment, as I supposed it to be, though I had
not the least idea what a lobster was. The skipper took the helm, and
the boat began to move.

"Haul in that sheet, Phil," said he, quietly.

I rushed for the cabin, where I had seen two beds very neatly made up
in the berths.

"Where are you going?"

"After the sheet. There's some on the beds in the cabin."

"The rope fastened to the boom," he continued, laughing at my blunder,
and handing me the end of the line upon which I was to haul.

I pulled in, and the effect was to bring the boom over the deck.
Putting the helm hard down, he brought the Florina up into the wind, so
as to clear a lumber schooner which lay just below. I wish to say that
I describe the movements of the boat from the knowledge I have since
obtained, for I am an "old salt" now. I watched the operations of the
skipper with keen attention, for I was taking my first lesson in
handling a boat, and I was deeply interested. Skilfully he navigated
the crowded river, and I hauled in and let out the sheet twenty times
before we reached the broad lake. The drawbridges were whisked open in
the twinkling of an eye, and in about half an hour we passed out of the
river.

I saw why Mr. Whippleton was anxious to have an assistant in the
Florina with him, for I found it was no joke to haul the sheet, and my
hands, grown tender in my clerkly occupation, exhibited two or three
blisters when we reached the mouth of the river. It was a nice thing
for a gentleman like him to sit at the helm, and handle the tiller; but
I fancied he did not enjoy hoisting the mainsail, and hauling the
sheet, alone.

"There, Phil, the worst of it is over no