We flew along at a great rate--neither of us having said a word since casting loose from the wharf.

I now asked my companion what course he intended to steer, and what time he thought it probable we should get back.

He whistled for a few minutes, and then said crustily: "_I_ am going to sea--_you_ may go home if you think proper." Turning my eyes upon him, I perceived at once that, in spite of his assumed _nonchalance_, he was greatly agitated.
I could see him distinctly by the light of the moon--his face was paler than any marble, and his hand shook so excessively that he could scarcely retain hold of the tiller.

I found that something had gone wrong, and became seriously alarmed.

At this period I knew little about the management of a boat, and was now depending entirely upon the nautical skill of my friend.