ut I signalled to her, "Thanks--all right now," and she
went back.

Soon another boat that had rowed out came near, and the man in her
determined to be a _salvor_ whether or no, and leaped on board the yawl.
I made him get off to his boat; I had not invited him, nor had he asked
permission to board me. He could see it was the other man's job, and he
ought to have obeyed the signal, as the other did. Grumbling heavily, he
at length asked me to tow him in. "Well," I said, "why, yes, I will give
you a tow, though you have been very impudent." But the moment he came
near he jumped on board again, resolved "to save me," though I might
protest ever so hard. Once more, then, I bundled him into his boat, and
this time rather by deeds than words. He kept up a volley of abuse all
the way to the shore, and there I gave my yawl in charge of the first
man, who had acted right both in coming out and in going back when
signalled. A hospitable Captain R.N. offered me his moorings (as a good
bed for my yawl), and asked me to breakfast next day, which was accepted,
"subject to the wind," especially as the entertainer was of the clan
"Mac," like his guest.

Calm night falls on the Rob Roy, in a little inland lake, profoundly
still, more quiet indeed, in respect of current, tide, or wind, or human
being than any night of the voyage. It was very difficult to turn in
below with such a moon above, and water quite unruffled. So there was a
long lean-to on propped elbows, and reverie reeled off by the yard.

Daybreak grey, with a westerly breeze, at once dissolved the breakfast
engagement, and carried the Rob Roy to sea, with her own kettle briskly
boiling; and now we are fairly started on our voyage to the Thames again.
But the glowing sun also took its morning meal, and greedily ate up the
wind; and so the yachts from Ryde could be seen far off, looking farther
off in a misty curtain, all only drifting with the tide, while they raced
their hardest for a cup. Yet there is science and skill in drifting
well. If the skipper has no wind to show his prowess in with sails, he
must win by his knowledge of current, tide, and channel, while he seems
perhaps to be carried along helplessly. One after another the pretty
racers slowly rounded the Warner light-ship, and then each sunk back, as
it were, into the gauzy distance, until they seemed like white pearls
dotted on grey satin, and the Rob Roy was alone again, while the fog
thickened mo