e fleck of the foam on
our faces. There is a feeling of freedom, a sense of air, and space, and
dancing light, and soft, subdued sound that blend into one exhilarating
joy, when, with only a plank between us and the racing water, it is as
if nature took us in her arms and were about to carry us away from every
trammel of civilization, somewhere into that far-off land that lies
always just over the horizon--that lost Atlantis which the old
navigators sought so carefully, but never found.

Isobel sat in the bows, her hand locked in Belle's. She felt as if they
were birds flying through space together, or mermaids who had risen up
from the sea-king's palace to take a look at the sun-world above, and
were floating along as much a part of the waves as the great trails of
bladder-wrack, or the lumps of soft spongy foam that whirled by them.
Charlie rested on his sculls and let the boat take her course for a
while; she was heading towards the bar, straight out from the cliffs and
the harbour to where the heavy breakers, which dashed against the
lighthouse, merged into the rollers of the open sea.

"Aren't we going out rather a long way?" said Belle at last. "We've
passed the old schooner and the dredger, and we're very nearly at the
buoy. We don't want to sail quite to America, though it's jolly when we
skim along like this. If we don't mind we shall be over the bar in a few
minutes."

"By jove! so we shall!" cried Charlie. "I didn't notice we'd come so
far. We must bring her round.--Get her athwart, Hilda, quick!"

"I suppose if you pull one line it goes one way, and if you pull the
other line it goes the other way," said Hilda, whose first experience it
was with the tiller, giving such a mighty jerk as an experiment that she
swung the boat half round.

"Easy abaft!" shouted Charlie. "Do you want to capsize us? Turn her to
starboard; she's on the port tack. Put up the helm, and make her luff!"

"What _do_ you mean?" cried Hilda, utterly bewildered by these nautical
directions.

"You little idiot, don't tug so hard! You'll be running us into the
buoy. Look here! you can't steer. Just drop these lines. I'd better ship
the oars and hoist the sail, and then I can take the tiller myself.
There's a stiffish breeze; I can tack her round, you'll see, if I've no
one interfering. Now let me get my bearings."

"Are you sure you know how?" asked Belle uneasily.

"Haven't I watched old Jordan do it a hundred times?" declared Cha