She was, as Ben had said, a lap-streaked, keel-bottomed dingy--good enough as a yacht's tender or in deep water, but the worst boat in the world to row about Denboro bay at low tide.

Her high rail caught what breeze there was blowing and this helped to push her along.

However, I got within easy hailing distance after a while and called, over my shoulder, to ask what was the matter.
A man's voice answered me.
"We've lost an oar," he shouted.

"We're drifting out to sea.

Lend us a hand, will you ?" "All right," I answered.