Or maybe she doesn't;maybe she 'strikes and swings.'
Then she has to while away several hours (or days)sparring herself off.
Sometimes a buoy is not laid at all,but the yawl goes ahead,hunting the best water,and the steamer follows along in its wake.
Often there is a deal of fun and excitement about sounding,especially if it is a glorious summer day,or a blustering night.
But in winter the cold and the peril take most of the fun out of it.
A buoy is nothing but a board four or five feet long,with one end turned up;it is a reversed school-house bench,with one of the supports left and the other removed.
It is anchored on the shoalest part of the reef by a rope with a heavy stone made fast to the end of it.
But for the resistance of the turned-up end of the reversed bench,the current would pull the buoy under water.At night,a paper lantern with a candle in it is fastened on top of the buoy,and this can be seen a mile or more,a little glimmering spark in the waste of blackness.
Nothing delights a cub so much as an opportunity to go out sounding.
There is such an air of adventure about it;often there is danger;it is so gaudy and man-of-war-like to sit up in the stern-sheets and steer a swift yawl;there is something fine about the exultant spring of the boat when an experienced old sailor crew throw their souls into the oars;it is lovely to see the white foam stream away from the bows;there is music in the rush of the water;it is deliciously exhilarating,in summer,to go speeding over the breezy expanses of the river when the world of wavelets is dancing in the sun.It is such grandeur,too,to the cub,to get a chance to give an order;for often the pilot will simply say,'Let her go about!'and leave the rest to the cub,who instantly cries,in his sternest tone of command,'Ease starboard!Strong on the larboard!