"
I believe Fred enjoyed them simply as stories, but they fanned in my
heart that restless fever for which sea-breezes are the only cure. I
think Mr. Rowe got excited himself as he recalled old times. And when
he began to bawl sea-songs with a voice like an Atlantic gale, and
when he vowed in cadence
"A sailor's life is the life for me,"
I felt that it was the life for me also, and expressed myself so
strongly to that effect that Mr. Rowe became alarmed for the
consequences of his indiscretion, and thenceforward told us
sea-stories with the obvious and quite futile intention of disgusting
me with what I already looked upon as my profession.
But the barge-master's rapid change of tactics convinced me more and
more that we could not safely rely on him to help us in our plans.
About five o'clock he made tea on board, and boiled the water on the
little stove in the cabin. I was very anxious to help, and it was I
who literally made the tea, whilst Mr. Rowe's steadier hand cut thick
slices of bread-and-butter from a large loaf. There was only one cup
and saucer. Fred and I shared the cup, and the barge-master took the
saucer. By preference, he said, as the tea cooled quicker.
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