Bless you, that little schooner would run past the
fastest frigate in the king's service with the wind dead aft as we
have got it now; she is coming up with us hand over head, and as stiff
on her keel as a rock; this is her point of sailing, beating to
windward is ours. Why, if they ain't reefing the foresel, to make the
race even; and there go three reefs into her mainsel too." The old
boatman scratched his head.
"Who is aboard her, Dick? they are strangers to me."
By taking in so many reefs the lateen had lowered her rate of sailing,
and she now followed in their wake, keeping a quarter of a mile to
windward.
Talboys lost all patience. "Who is it, I wonder, that has the
insolence to dog us so?" and he looked keenly at Miss Fountain.
She did not think herself bound to reply, and gazed with a superior
air of indifference on the sky and the water.
"I will soon know," said Talboys.
"What does it matter?" inquired Lucy. "Probably somebody who is
wasting his time as we are."
"The road we are on is as free to him as to us," suggested the old
boatman, with a fine sense of natural justice. He added, "But if you
will take my advice, sir, you will shorten sail, and put her about for
home. It is blowing half a gale of wind, and the sea will be getting
up, and that won't be agreeable for the young lady."
"Gale of wind? Nonsense," said Talboys; "it is a fine breeze."
"Oh, thank you, sir," said Lucy to the old man; "I love the sea, but I
should not like to be out in a storm.
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