s in
tow, we accepted with great contentment. The morning was not half over
when we made our next landing, and looked up the captain who was to tow us
"around Judith."

For in the matter of Point Judith our friends and advisers had been
unanimously firm. There should be a limit, they said, even to the
foolishness of a holiday plan. With a light boat, we might have braved
their disapproval, but loaded as we were, we decided to be prudent.

"I'd hate to lose the guns," said Jonathan.

"Yes, and the camera," I added.

So we accepted the offer of a good friend's knockabout, and sailed around
the dreaded Point with our little boat tailing behind at the end of her
rope. We saw no water that we could not have met in her, but, as our
friends did not fail to point out, that proved nothing whatever.

At Stonington we were left once more to our little boat and our four oars,
and there we pulled her up and caulked her.

Strange, how we are always trying to avoid mishaps, and yet when they come
we are so often glad of them! A leaky boat had not been in our plans, but
if we could change that first wild row across the big bay, if we could cut
out that leakiness, that puddling bottom, the difficult shifts of baling
and rowing, would we? We would not. Again, as we look back over the days
of our cruise, we could ill spare those hours of labor on the hot stretch
of sunny beach between the wharves, where we bent half-blinded over the
dazzling white boat, our spirits irritated, our fingers aching as they
worked at the _push-push-push_ of the cotton waste between the strakes. We
said hard words of the man who thought he had put our boat in order for
us, and yet--if we could cut out those hours of grumbling toil, would we?
We would not. For one thing, we should perhaps have missed the precious
word of advice given us by a man who sat and watched us. He recommended us
to put a little motor in the stern. He pointed out to us that rowing was
pretty hard work. We said we liked it. His face wore the expression I have
already described.

We launched her again at dusk. Next morning Jonathan was a moment ahead of
me on the wharf.

"Any water in her?" I called, following hard.

"Dry as a bone," he shouted back, exultant; but as I came up he added,
with his usual conservatism, "of course we can't tell what she may do when
she's loaded."

But our work held. For the rest of the trip we had a dry boat, except for
what came in over the sides.