Monday morning dawned bright and fair (as we afterward learned from the sailor); and bright and fair it certainly was when we made its acquaintance.  The day was yet young when everything was ready for the trip up the river, and the shores of the little creek were echoing the harsh clicks of our labouring windlass.

“She’s hove short, and all ready to start whenever you are, sir,” announced the sailor at the bow door.

Nautica snipped a thread and laid down her sewing; the Commodore tossed his magazine aside.  A moment more and we were off.  When well out in the river, we headed toward the left bank, for we were to make a landing at the pier above Westover to take on two boxes of provisions that had been left there for us by the Pocahontas.  The steamer had gone; everybody about the wharf had gone; but we had arranged to have the boxes left out for us, and there they stood on the end of the pier.

Aboard Gadabout was the stir and bustle usually incident to the making of a landing.  Clear and sharp rose the voice of the Commodore; now issuing his orders, now taking them back again.  When he could think of nothing more to say, he went below and relieved Nautica at the wheel as our good ship swung beautifully in toward the wharf.

It must be remembered that a houseboat does not come up to piers like a steamboat, always finding men waiting to catch lines and to help in making landings.  Often, as was the way of it that morning, the wandering houseboat comes along to find only an empty pier; and if she wishes to establish any closer relations with it, she must make all the advances herself.

The wind may be blowing strong; the tide running strong—­everything strong but the qualifications of the commanding officer; in which case, it is well that preparations for the landing begin early.  There should be a coil of rope made ready at either end of the boat, and also a light line with a grapnel attached to It.  What is a grapnel?  How strange that question sounds to us now, mighty mariners that we have become!  But of course we should remember that there was a time when we did not know ourselves.  Well, a grapnel is much like one of those fish-hooks that have five points all curving out in different directions, only it usually weighs several pounds.

[Illustration:  “Often ...  The wandering houseboat comes along to find only an empty pier.”]

The value of the grapnel was shown that day at the pier above Westover.  Though Gadabout swung to the landing finely, a strong off-shore wind caught her; our ropes fell short; and we should have made but sorry work of it if a grapnel had not shot out into the air and saved the day.  As it fell upon the wharf, the line attached to it was hauled in hand over hand; and though the grapnel started to come along with it, sliding and hopping over the pier, soon one of its points found a crack or a nail or a knot-hole to get hold of; and the houseboat was readily drawn up and made fast to the pilings.