It being a fact, to a degree, that a boat has as many peculiarities—one might almost say individualities—all its own as a human being, or a horse, it was interesting to see how quickly Mr. Carleton took note of them and handled his boat accordingly. He seemed to realize at once just how she would take the wind; how stiffly she would stand up in a flaw; just how much the jib and forestaysail needed trimming to be at their best; just how to humour the boat in several little ways to get the most out of her. And he did it all very confidently. That he was a man of sharp discernment, and quick to learn things, was the impression he made on Henry Burns. And if there should come a time when Henry Burns, remembering many things which he now observed, but attached no particular importance to, should put them all together and form a conclusion regarding them and of Mr. Carleton, why certainly there was nought of that in his mind now. He did observe one thing, however, in particular, and it was in accord with what he had told Harvey concerning Mr. Carleton. The man had aggressiveness and determination. Mr. Carleton surely believed in holding a boat down to its work. There was no timidity, even to a point that bordered on recklessness, in the way he met the heavier buffetings of the wind. Where a more cautious man would have luffed and spilled a little of the wind, Mr. Carleton held the wheel firm and let the _Viking_ heel over and take it, seeming to know she would go through all right; as though he should say, “You can stand it. Now let’s see you do it. I’ll not indulge you. I know what you can stand. You can’t fool me.” Henry Burns rather liked him for this. There was something that he admired in his skill and courage. The yacht _Viking_ was weathering the seas grandly. She was a boat that did not bury deep in a smother, and flounder about and pound hard and lose headway, but rode the waves lightly and went easily to windward. “Works well, doesn’t she?” cried Harvey, enthusiastically. “Splendid, better than ever—better than she did coming down the river, and yesterday,” responded Mr. Carleton. “She’d almost stand a gaff-topsail even with this breeze. That’s a good clean stick, that topmast. However, I guess we’re doing well enough. We won’t set it, eh?” “Here, you take the wheel,” he said the next moment to Henry Burns, whom he had observed eying him sharply. “Let’s see what kind of a sailor you are.” One might have thought it was Mr. Carleton’s own boat. He said it with such an air. Henry Burns acquiesced calmly and with that confidence he had when he knew he could do a thing right. Here was another individual who could learn things quickly, too; and if Harvey had had more experience than he in actual sailing and handling a boat, Henry Burns more than matched him in coolness and resource. “You’ll do,” said Mr. Carleton at length. “I’ll risk my life with you and Harvey any day. How’s the crew—are they pretty good sailors, too?”