--and .looked as if it had not been used for a
twelvemonth. Jobling squirted some oil into the bearings, knocked
the dust off the cushioned seat, and remarked that a shilling an hour
was the proper charge; but that, as he always favoured the Ronleigh
gentlemen, he would say two shillings, and they might keep it the whole
afternoon.

Jack, as we have said before, was of rather a nautical turn of mind, and
occasionally, when the fit was on him, loved to interlard his
conversation with seafaring expressions.

"She isn't much of a craft to look at," he remarked, as they drew up and
dismounted at the spot where Mugford stood waiting for them; "but we'll
imagine this is my steam-yacht, and that we're going for a cruise.
Now then, Diggy, you're the mate, and you shall sit on the starboard
side and steer. Mugford's the passenger, so he'll go in the middle.
I'm captain, and I'll work the port treadles. Now, then, all aboard!"

The boys scrambled on to the seat, and with some little amount of
crushing and squeezing got settled in their places, and at the captain's
word, "Half-speed ahead!" the voyage commenced. They went lumbering and
clattering through the outskirts of the town, and at length, after
having roused the dormant wit of one shop-boy, who shouted "Knives to
grind!" after them, they gained the highroad. For half a mile the
voyage was prosperous enough; then the adventures began.

They were going at a good pace down a gentle slope, and on turning a
corner saw immediately in front of them a narrow piece of road with a
duck-pond on one side and a high bank on the other. Some one had
carelessly left a wheelbarrow standing very nearly in the centre of the
highway, and there was only just room to pass it on the water side.

"Starboard a little!"

The steering gear worked rather stiffly. Diggory gave the handle a hard
twist, and it went round further than he intended.

"Port!" cried the captain, "hard a-port!" But it was too late, and the
next moment the "coffee-mill" ran down the sloping bank and plunged
into the duck-pond. It gave a violent lurch, but fortunately its
breadth of beam kept it from overturning, and the water, being not more
than a few inches deep, only wet the boots of the mariners.

"You great ass, Diggy! why didn't you _port?_" demanded the captain.

The mate, who as a matter of fact could not have told the difference
between the nautical "port" and home-made ginger-beer, answered
promptly