Scrambling down into the boat with some circumspection--for my broken arm, although knitting together again nicely, was still rather painful at times, and very liable to break again in the same place if treated roughly--I took my place in the stern-sheets, whereupon Cupid, giving the little cockle-shell a powerful thrust off from the wharf wall, threw out the two tiny oars by which the boat was usually propelled, and proceeded with long powerful strokes to row across to the mainland, at this point a bare half-mile distant.
