This was still more difficult when they
reached the channel, and the _Roaring Bess_ drove into the rougher
water which is always found there. The white-caps leaped high, and
drenched both man and boy.
"Lucky we brought our oil-skins," the captain remarked. "We'll have to
beat back, and then there'll be some fun. I wonder if the doctor is a
good sailor. My, that was a whopper!" he exclaimed, as a larger wave
than usual struck the yacht. "Guess it'll be rougher before mornin'."
"This is great!" Rod cried, as another wave leaped upon them.
"Tut, that's nothin'," the captain replied. "If ye'd been with me
aboard the _Flyin' Queen_ when we struck a gale, ye'd know something
about big seas then. Why, this is only a mill-pond."
"I'm going to see a gale some day, captain. I want to go out on the
ocean in a storm."
"Ye do, eh? If ye go, I guess it'll be aboard a liner, where ye'll be
penned up like a rat in a trap. That's the way people travel these
days, 'in luxury,' they call it. But give me my old _Flyin' Queen_, a
strong breeze abeam, and ye kin have all yer iron or steel tubs as fer
as I'm concerned."
The _Roaring Bess_ had made good time down the river, lifting and
swinging forward with long plunging leaps as if glad of the freedom she
was enjoying.
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