They were to windward of the schooner, just ready to flirt the
dory over the still sea, when sounds of woe half a mile off led
them to Penn, who was careering around a fixed point, for all the
world like a gigantic water-bug. The little man backed away and
came down again with enormous energy, but at the end of each
manoeuvre his dory swung round and snubbed herself on her rope.

"We'll hey to help him, else he'll root an' seed here," said Dan.

"What's the matter?" said Harvey. This was a new world, where he
could not lay down the law to his elders, but had to ask questions
humbly. And the sea was horribly big and unexcited.

"Anchor's fouled. Penn's always losing 'em. Lost two this trip
a'ready, - on sandy bottom, too, - an' dad says next one he loses,
sure's fish-in', he'll give him the kelleg. That 'u'd break Penn's
heart."

"What's a 'kelleg'?" said Harvey, who had a vague idea it might be
some kind of marine torture, like keel-hauling in the story-books.

"Big stone instid of an anchor. You kin see a kelleg ridin' in the
bows fur's you can see a dory, an' all the fleet knows what it
means. They'd guy him dreadful. Penn couldn't stand that no more'n
a dog with a dipper to his tail.
He's so everlastin' sensitive. Hello, Penn! Stuck again? Don't try
any more o' your patents. Come up on her, and keep your rodin'
straight up an' down."