’Do you see that long slanting line on the face of the water?  Now, that’s a reef.  Moreover, it’s a bluff reef.  There is a solid sand-bar under it that is nearly as straight up and down as the side of a house.  There is plenty of water close up to it, but mighty little on top of it.  If you were to hit it you would knock the boat’s brains out.  Do you see where the line fringes out at the upper end and begins to fade away?’

‘Yes, sir.’

’Well, that is a low place; that is the head of the reef.  You can climb over there, and not hurt anything.  Cross over, now, and follow along close under the reef—­easy water there—­not much current.’

I followed the reef along till I approached the fringed end.  Then Mr. Bixby said—­

’Now get ready.  Wait till I give the word.  She won’t want to mount the reef; a boat hates shoal water.  Stand by—­wait—­wait—­keep her well in hand.  Now cramp her down!  Snatch her! snatch her!’

He seized the other side of the wheel and helped to spin it around until it was hard down, and then we held it so.  The boat resisted, and refused to answer for a while, and next she came surging to starboard, mounted the reef, and sent a long, angry ridge of water foaming away from her bows.

’Now watch her; watch her like a cat, or she’ll get away from you.  When she fights strong and the tiller slips a little, in a jerky, greasy sort of way, let up on her a trifle; it is the way she tells you at night that the water is too shoal; but keep edging her up, little by little, toward the point.  You are well up on the bar, now; there is a bar under every point, because the water that comes down around it forms an eddy and allows the sediment to sink.  Do you see those fine lines on the face of the water that branch out like the ribs of a fan.  Well, those are little reefs; you want to just miss the ends of them, but run them pretty close.  Now look out—­look out!  Don’t you crowd that slick, greasy-looking place; there ain’t nine feet there; she won’t stand it.  She begins to smell it; look sharp, I tell you!  Oh blazes, there you go!  Stop the starboard wheel!  Quick!  Ship up to back!  Set her back!

The engine bells jingled and the engines answered promptly, shooting white columns of steam far aloft out of the ’scape pipes, but it was too late.  The boat had ‘smelt’ the bar in good earnest; the foamy ridges that radiated from her bows suddenly disappeared, a great dead swell came rolling forward and swept ahead of her, she careened far over to larboard, and went tearing away toward the other shore as if she were about scared to death.  We were a good mile from where we ought to have been, when we finally got the upper hand of her again.

During the afternoon watch the next day, Mr. Bixby asked me if I knew how to run the next few miles.  I said—­

’Go inside the first snag above the point, outside the next one, start out from the lower end of Higgins’s wood-yard, make a square crossing and—­’