Hug the land, for there are no more reefs before Scalea.

If you do not get aground on what you can see in Calabria, you will not get aground at all, says the old proverb.

Briskly over two or three miles to the next point, and the breeze is gone again.

While she is still forging ahead out go the sweeps, six or eight of them, and the men throw themselves forward over the long slender loom, as they stand.
Half an hour to row, or more perhaps.

Down helm, as you meet the next puff, and the good felucca heels over a little.