Our Hero, Fred Temple, has risen to be a senior manager in the great Liverpool business founded by his father. But he was getting overworked and deeply tired, so one day he announced that he was taking leave for a while and was going to visit Norway in a small yacht.
be torn out of her," said Temple to the Captain, as he grasped the brass rail that surrounded the quarterdeck, and gazed upward with some anxiety.
"No fear o' her," said the Captain, turning the quid of tobacco in his cheek; "she's a tight boat, an' could stand a heavier sea than this. I hope it'll blow a wee thing harder."
"Harder!" exclaimed Fred.
"You must be fond of wind, Captain," observed Grant with a laugh.
"Oo ay, I've no objection to wund."
The Captain said this, as he said everything else, more than half through his nose, and very slowly.
"But do you not think that more wind would be apt to carry away our top-masts, or split the sails?" said Temple.
"It's not unlikely," was the Captain's cool reply.
"Then why wish for it?" inquired the other in surprise.
"Because we're only thirty miles from the coast of Norway, and if the wund holds on as it's doin', we'll not make the land till dark. But if it blows harder we'll get under the shelter