Her owner arrived while I was noting these things.

He looked at her with pride. "She's a good boat," he said. "She used
to be a lifeboat, with tanks in her to keep her buoyant, but I took
them out."

"I was expecting one with a deck," I said.

"Deck? Who wants a deck?" he answered. "She's all right. You must keep
baling, that's all. She would, be all the better for some white-lead
and paint."

"Why not give them to her?" I asked.

He pointed to an island about a mile distant and a headland half a
mile across the bay. "Keep within those two spots," he said, "and
you'll be all right. It's not safe to take her beyond. There might
be squalls."

"Rather limited," I suggested.

"There's grand water in between," he said. "Deep too in places. Nine
fathoms."

"Where's the man to sail her?" I asked.

"The man?" he replied. "Aren't you going to sail her yourself? Your
letter said nothing about a man."

"Good heavens!" I said, "you surely wouldn't let a total stranger try