"Ef there was any sea you'd go to the bottom, sure.

You got to learn to meet her." Dan fitted the thole-pins, took the forward thwart, and watched Harvey's work.

The boy had rowed, in a ladylike fashion, on the Adirondack ponds; but there is a difference between squeaking pins and well-balanced rowlocks--light sculls and stubby, eight-foot sea-oars.
They stuck in the gentle swell, and Harvey grunted.
"Short! Row short!" said Dan.

"Ef you cramp your oar in any kind o' sea you're liable to turn her over.

Ain't she a daisy?
Mine, too." The little dory was specklessly clean.