course, poor things, even the queen, I believe. It
can't be pleasant."

The tug of the boat at her anchor rope slackened as the tide reached
its height A light easterly wind came to them from the land. Priscilla
swallowed the last morsel of bread and honey as the _Tortoise_ drifted
over her anchor and swung round.

"Perhaps," she said, "you'd like to practise steering, Cousin Dick. If
so, creep aft and take the tiller. I'll get the sail on her and haul up
the anchor."

Frank, humbled by the experience of the day before, was doubtful.
Priscilla encouraged him. He took the tiller with nervous joy. Priscilla
hoisted the lug and then the foresail.

"Now," she said, "I'll get up the anchor and we'll try to go off on the
starboard tack. If we don't we'll have to jibe immediately. With this
much wind it won't matter, but you might not like the sensation."

Frank did not want to enjoy any sensation of a sudden kind and jibing,
as he understood it, was always unexpected. He asked which way he ought
to push the tiller so as to make sure of reaching the starboard tack.
Priscilla stood beside the mast and delivered a long, very confusing
lecture on the effect of the rudder on the boat and the advantage of
hauling down one or other of the foresail sheets when getting under way
from anchor. Frank did not understand much of what she said, but was
ashamed to ask for more information. Priscilla, on her knees under the
foresail, tugged at the anchor rope. The _Tortoise_ quivered slightly,
but did not move. Priscilla, leaning well back, tugged harder. The
_Tortoise_--it is impossible to speak of a boat except as a live thing
with a capricious will--shook herself irritably.

"She's slap over the anchor," said Priscilla. "I can't think how she
gets there for there's plenty of rope out; but there she is and I can't
move the beastly thing. Perhaps you'll try. You may be stronger than I
am. I expect it has got stuck somehow behind a rock."

Frank felt confident that he was stronger in the arms than Priscilla. He
crept forward and put his whole strength into a pull on the anchor
rope. The _Tortoise_ twisted herself broadside on to the breeze and then
listed over to windward. Priscilla looked round her in amazement.
The breeze was certainly very light, but it was contrary to her whole
experience that a boat with sails set should heel over towards the wind.
She told Frank to stop pulling. The _Tortoise_ slowly righted herself
and then dri