"Not at all, my boy. It is the result of ignorance. The more ignorant and uncultivated people are, the greater cowards they seem. They are superst.i.tious, and believe in ghosts and goblins and imps and fairies; and as for savages in far-off regions, they are sometimes the greatest cowards under the sun."

"I feel very much ashamed of myself, uncle," I said, and the tears stood in my eyes.

He looked at me very kindly as I spoke.

"I wish I was not so ignorant."

"For my part, Nat," he said, "I feel very proud of you, my boy; and let me tell you that you have no cause to be ashamed at all. Now take hold of the sheet here, and give and take as I tell you. Don't be afraid to let it slip through your hands fast if there is a heavy squall. I'll steer. The sea is heavier out in this long reach. Tell me when you'd like to put back."

"I don't want to go back, uncle," I said; "let's go on."

He nodded, and away we dashed, scudding along and riding over the waves, while he showed me how he steered, and why he did this and that; how, by a little pressure on the tiller, he could check our speed, and even turn the little vessel so that we were facing where the wind blew from, and now the sail flapped angrily; but we made no progress at all, only were tossed about on the waves.

I told him that I thought we could only go along with the wind straight behind us, but he showed me how we could sail with the wind on either side, and sometimes with it almost facing us, by what he called tacking, which I found meant that, if the wind came from straight before us, say at a certain point in front, we could get there at last by zigzagging through the water, now half a mile to the left, now half a mile to the right, a common way of progressing which brought us nearer and nearer every time.

"The sea is rougher than I thought," he said, "for I suppose we may call it sea out here, Nat, this being the estuary of the Thames, so I think I'll make that do for to-day."

"Don't go back for me, uncle," I said, as a wave broke over the bow of the boat, splashing us from top to toe.

"I am going back for both our sakes, Nat, for we shall soon be wet through. It is a day for india-rubber coats; but this has been a glorious sail, and a splendid lesson for you, Nat."

"Yes, uncle," I said, "and I feel hardly frightened a bit now."

"No, my boy, it has given you far more confidence than you had before.

It is live and learn, Nat; you believe more in me and I believe more in you."

He gave me one of his nods as he said this, and then took the rope from my hand.

"Now, Nat, steer us home, my boy; I'll tell you what to do. By and by you and I will have a native boat, perhaps, with a matting sail, to manage, sailing about near the equator."

"But is it rough out there, uncle, amongst the islands?" I said.

"Very, at times, my boy; but with a light, well-built boat like this I should not be afraid to go anywhere. See how like a duck she is in shape, and how easily she rides over the waves. I should like to have one exactly the same build but twice as large, and with the fore part and p.o.o.p decked over or covered in with canvas; and I don't know but what it would be wise to take out such a boat."

Then he went on giving me explanations about the sail, and which was a lug-sail, what was meant by fore-and-aft rig, and a dozen other things, showing me the while too how to steer.

The result was that, drenched with spray, but all in a glow with excitement, we got safely back, and for my part feeling that I had had a lesson indeed, and ready to put out any time with my uncle in far rougher seas.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

SAYING "GOOD-BYE!"

Days of practice with my gun followed, and then two or three more afternoons in the mouth of the Thames, my uncle always selecting the roughest days for that purpose; but after a time or two I quite got over my dread of the water, and was ready enough to hold the sheet or take the tiller, picking up very rapidly a knowledge of how to steer so as to ease the boat over the waves that would take us on the beam; learning how to tack and go about: and a dozen other little matters highly necessary for one who attempts the management of a boat.

And then the day of parting came, for Uncle d.i.c.k had made all his preparations, which were after all very simple, consisting as they did of two or three changes of clothes, plenty of ammunition, tools for skinning birds and animals, an abundant supply of preserving paste, and some medicines.

It was arranged that we were to go by one of the French steamers from Ma.r.s.eilles, to catch which we had of course to cross France, and then we intended to travel by one of the Peninsular and Oriental steamers to Singapore after crossing the Isthmus of Suez, for this was long before Monsieur de Lesseps had thrust spade into the sand.

"Get the good-byes over quickly, Nat," said Uncle d.i.c.k; and this I did as far as my Aunt Sophy was concerned, though she did kiss me and seem more affectionate than usual.

But it was different with poor Uncle Joseph, and had I known how he would take it to heart I'm afraid that I should have thought twice over before making up my mind to go.

"I can hardly believe it, Nat, my boy," he said in a husky voice. "It don't seem natural for you to be going away, my boy, and I don't know how I shall get on without you."

As he spoke he held my hands in his, and though he was pretending to be very cheerful, I could see that he was greatly troubled, and after all his kindness to me I felt as if I was behaving cruelly and ungratefully in the extreme.

"But I'm not going to grieve about you, Nat, my boy," he said quite cheerfully, "and here's your knife."

As he spoke he drew a splendid great jack-knife out of his pocket, hauling out a quant.i.ty of white cord to which it was attached, and proceeding to fasten it round my waist.

"There, Nat, my boy," he said, "it was the best I could get you; and the man says it is a splendid bit of stuff. Do you like it, Nat--do you like it?"

"Oh, uncle," I said, "it is too kind of you!"

"Not a bit, my boy, not a bit; and now make good use of it, and grow strong and big, and come back as clever a man as your uncle, and I know you will."

There is a bit of history to that knife, for it was only the day before that he and I and Uncle d.i.c.k were together, and Uncle Joe wanted to make me a present.

"There, Nat," said Uncle Joe, drawing his heavy gold watch out of the fob by its watered-silk ribbon with the handsomely chased gold key and large topaz seal at the end, "I shall give you that watch, my boy, for a keepsake. Take it, Nat, and put it in your pocket; keep it out of sight, my boy, till you have gone. I shall tell your aunt afterwards, but she mightn't like it, you know, and it would be a little unpleasant."

"But I don't like to take your watch, uncle," I said, glad as I should have been to have it, for it seemed too bad to take it away.

"Quite right, Nat," said Uncle d.i.c.k; "don't take it."

"Not take it!" said Uncle Joe in a disappointed tone.

"No; he does not want a watch, Joe. Where he is going he must make the sun his watch."

"Yes," said Uncle Joe quickly, "but how about the night?"

"Then he'll have to sleep and rest himself for the next day's work."

"And how about getting up in good time?"

"Daylight's the good time for getting up, Joe," said Uncle d.i.c.k; "and the sun will tell him the time."

"Ah!" cried Uncle Joe triumphantly, "but the sun does not always shine."

"No, not here," replied Uncle d.i.c.k. "You have too much smoke and fog.

We are going where he shines almost too much. Here, put away your watch, Joe. It is of no use to a boy who will be journeying through the primeval forest, plunging through th.o.r.n.y undergrowth or bog, or fording rivers and letting his clothes dry on him afterwards."

"But I should have liked him to have the watch," said Uncle Joe, rubbing one side of his nose softly with the case.

"Leave it for him in your will, then, my boy," said Uncle d.i.c.k. "He wants nothing that will enc.u.mber him, and your watch would only be a nuisance when the water had soaked in. Leave it to him in your will."

"Yes," said Uncle Joseph, "but I should have liked to give him something else to make him always remember me when he's away."