He held a long paddle with the handle jambed against the pointed stern, and the canoe's side rose out of the water as she paid off before the wind.
"We could do nothing with the paddles," he said.

"A sail's no use in a river-canoe, but these heavy freighters run pretty well.

Luckily it's a fair wind to the river mouth." Agatha could scarcely hear him, but when she asked how far it was he nodded as if he understood.
"Three or four miles! Not much sweep for the wind, but it will raise a nasty sea before we get there." Gazing at the driving clouds that blotted out the forest, she tried to ask if he could find the river, but just then the canoe rolled and the little spritsail swelled like a balloon.

There was a hiss and a splash, and the top of a wave that split at the stern and rolled forward poured in at the waist.

Thirlwell bent over the paddle and slackened the sheet, the canoe swung her bows out, and leaped ahead.