when it was time to tack, and this time Billy accomplished it without a hitch.
“Captain Saulsby,” he cried in beaming delight, “I can sail her, I know how to sail her!”
A slow broad grin illuminated Captain Saulsby’s mahogany-colored countenance.
“I thought you could,” he said slowly, “but it was a little ticklish at first, wasn’t it? And, good Heavens, the wake you leave!”
Billy glanced backward at the line upon the water that marked the pathway of his course.
“It’s not very straight,” he admitted, “but the waves have mussed it up some. Oh, but it’s great to sail a boat!”
The wind hummed in the rounding curve of the sail, the waves slapped and splashed along the boat’s side, the Island of Appledore fell away behind them, and they came out into the full sweep of the open sea. Aunt Mattie’s steamer was a black speck off toward the south, trailing a long, thin line of smoke. The sun that had shone so hot vanished presently behind a cloud, the water seemed to be a shade less blue, the little white sail of the fugitive Josephine seemed now and then to show mockingly ahead of them and now to disappear entirely. On they sped and on and on,
