great feats of bravery.

"I don't see any fun in going to sea, then," he said, dolefully, "if
there ain't any pirates and shipwrecks and things like that--"

"It isn't those things that make you love the sea, Tommy," cried Judy.
"It is the smell of it, and the wind, and the wide blue water and the
wide blue sky. It is something in your blood. I don't believe you
really love it at all, Tommy Tolliver."

She got up from the couch and began to gather up her wet hair, and only
Launcelot saw that she did it to hide her tears.

But Tommy was blind to her emotion. "Yes, I do," he asserted, stoutly.
"I do love it, and I bet I could find a treasure island if I tried."

Judy stamped her foot impatiently. "Oh, you couldn't," she blazed,
"you couldn't, Tommy Tolliver; you could just go to work like a common
seaman and get your tobacco and your grog, and be frozen and stiff in
the winter storms and hot and weary in the summer ones. But if you
really loved the sea you wouldn't care--you wouldn't care, just so you
could be rocked to sleep by it at night, and wake to hear it ripple
against the sides of the boat--"

"Gee--" said Tommy, open-mouthed at this outburst.

"Tommy," said Launcelot, with a glance at Judy's excited face and at
the trembling hands that could scarcely fasten her hair, "you don't
know a sailboat from a scow."