hrough my head in a far shorter time than they take to relate, whilst
dreamily I kept watching the little vessel, and mechanically taking note
of its different points. The sails at first were flapping listlessly,
the rocks, as I mentioned before, affording shelter from the breeze. But
presently the breeze shifted a little, and this change, together with
that produced by the tide, now just at its full height, moved the
schooner somewhat further from the rocks; then gradually the sails
filled once again, and after stopping a minute at one point, and a
minute at another, as, drifted by the motion of the waves, it finally
escaped from the little creek and stood steadily out into the open
channel of the Cove. I sprung to my feet and followed in pursuit,
running or jumping from rock to rock towards the mouth of the Cove. But
the little vessel got under the lee of a projecting rock, and was
stopped in its course for a while, so I sat down once more, not caring
to find my way round to the other side and release it, according to my
usual fashion, but finding a moody satisfaction in staring straight
before me, and paying no attention to Frisk, who was flourishing about
with barks, and waggings of his tail and prickings of his ears, as if
he thought he ought to be sent in pursuit of the new boat, and
considered me deficient in public spirit for not stirring in the matter.
Then, as I steadily refused to notice him, he took to playing with the
end of the rope on which the rings were fastened, which slipped on to
the iron stake, as before-mentioned, and constituted our "harbour-bar;"
seeming as pleased as a kitten with a ball of worsted, when he found
that he could push the ring up and move it with his paws. In fact, the
stake was so very short, and the ring so light, that I could see five
minutes more of such play, and probably the rope would be unfastened,
and the channel clear to the open sea.

Another moment and I noticed that the little vessel was clearing out
from its shelter under the rock, the wind coming down into the Cove in
gusts and draughts, so that it seemed to blow every way in succession,
and was now standing straight towards the mouth of the harbour.

There was a quick, sharp conflict between the strong whisper of
temptation and the protesting voice of conscience, when I marked the
position of the boat, and saw also, that in another moment Frisk's
antics would have unfastened the barrier between it and the wide water