, to say the truth, I don't know what to do
with myself," he said.

"Wouldn't it be fun if you could come with us?" exclaimed Oliver.

"That it would!" answered Dick; "and I'm sure Aunt Deborah will be
delighted to get rid of me."

We introduced him as our schoolfellow to papa, who, guessing what was in
our minds, invited him to come and sail with us, as he knew we should
like it.

Dick replied that if his uncle and aunt would let him he would come fast
enough; and as they were strolling on before, we three ran after them.
Dick told them of the invitation he had received. I guessed by the
faces of the old lady and gentleman that they would not refuse. I was
right; and it was at once settled that Dick should return home and pack
up a few traps, and come on board that very evening.

Dropping a little way behind, we were joined by Jack, when we set up a
shout, which somewhat astonished Aunt Deborah and her husband. We saw
the latter, who was somewhat deaf, enquiring what the noise was about.
When Dick joined them he got a scolding for being so improperly
hilarious.

While he and his relatives returned across the ferry to Stonehouse, we
went to see the steam floating bridge, similar to that used between
Portsmouth and Gosport. We much wished that we had had time to pull up
the Tamar, the scenery of which is highly picturesque. Small steamboats
run up it a considerable distance, and carry excursionists. We went
some distance up, to see the beautiful iron bridge which spans it, as
also to have a look at the Oreston quarries, from which the material for
forming the breakwater was principally procured.

On getting back to Catwater we found Dick and his traps waiting for us,
so we quickly transferred him and them on board the Lively; while Oliver
took up his quarters, by Uncle Tom's invitation, on board the Dolphin.
As we had still daylight, and the tide suited, we got up our anchors and
sailed down the Sound, steering for the western entrance, when we saw a
white light burst forth from the lighthouse at the end of the
breakwater.

"Why, I thought it was a red light," I observed.

"So it is when turned seaward; but by having a white light looking up
the harbour, vessels know when they are well inside," answered papa.

As we ran out we passed a large fleet of fishing-boats also coming out
of Cawsand Bay, which, before the breakwater was built, was the most
secure anchorage during south-westerly gales. These boa