has not the names good yet. Go on, Harve.”
“Oh, it’s the reef-pennant. I’d hook the tackle on to the reef-pennant, and then let down—”
“Lower the sail, child! Lower!” said Tom Platt, in a professional agony.
“Lower the throat and peak halyards,” Harvey went on. Those names stuck in his head.
“Lay your hand on thim,” said Long Jack.
Harvey obeyed. “Lower till that rope-loop—on the after-leach-kris—no, it’s cringle—till the cringle was down on the boom. Then I’d tie her up the way you said, and then I’d hoist up the peak and throat halyards again.”
“You’ve forgot to pass the tack-earing, but wid time and help ye’ll larn. There’s good and just reason for ivry rope aboard, or else ’twould be overboard. D’ye follow me? ’Tis dollars an’ cents I’m puttin’ into your pocket, ye