not usually take a long time. When the vessel is a swift
little schooner-yacht, and the breeze is stiff as well as fair, the
voyage is naturally a brief one.

Everything favoured the little _Fairy_. Sun, moon, and stars cheered
her, and winds were propitious, so that our voyagers soon found
themselves skimming over the billows of the western sea.

It was one part of Mabberly's plan that he and his friends should do
duty as part of the crew. He was himself accustomed to the handling of
yachts, and Barret he knew had been familiar with the management of
boats from childhood.

"You can steer, of course?" he had asked Giles Jackman almost as soon as
they were fairly at sea.

"Well, ye-es, oh yes. No doubt I could steer if I were to try."

"Have you never tried?" asked his friend in surprise.

"Oh yes, I have tried--once. It was on an occasion when a number of us
had gone on a picnic. We had to proceed part of the way to our
destination by river in a small boat, which was managed by a regular old
sea-dog--I forget his name, for we generally hailed him by the title of
Old Salt. Some of the impatient members of the party suggested a little
preliminary lunch. There are always people ready to back up impatient
suggestions! It was agreed to, and Old Salt was ordered to open the
provision basket, which had been stowed away in the bows of the boat.
`Would you steer, sir?' said Old Salt to me, as he rose to go forward.
`Certainly, with pleasure,' said I, for, as you know, it's an old
weakness of mine to be obliging! Well, in a few minutes they were all
eating away as if they'd had no breakfast, while we went merrily down
the river, with the current and a light breeze in our favour.

"Suddenly Old Salt shouted something that was smothered in its passage
through a bite of sandwich. I looked up, and saw a native canoe coming
straight towards us. `Port!' roared Old Salt, in an explosion that
cleared away half the sandwich. `No, thankee; I prefer sherry,' said I.
But I stopped there, for I saw intuitively from the yell with which he
interrupted me that something was wrong. `_Hard_ a-port!' he cried,
jumping up and scattering his rations. I shoved the tiller hard to the
side that suggested itself, and hoped for the best. The worst followed,
for we struck the native canoe amidships, as it was steering wildly out
of our way, and capsized it! There were only two men in it, and they
could swim like ducks; but the rive