It was a clear night, bright stars lighting up the skies over the Hawaiian Islands. A slight sliver of a new moon could just be seen rising in the east.
The yawl ran on its auxiliary engine for fifteen minutes, putting the harbor behind it. When they were well clear, and in open sea, Mr. Brewster cut the engine.
“All hands to,” he called. “Prepare to hoist sail.”
A yawl is a fore-and-aft rigged vessel. It has a large mainmast forward, and a much smaller mast set abaft or behind the tiller, or wheel.
Hank Mahenili and his son Li had hold of the halyards at the mainmast, ready to pull on the lines to raise the main and jib sails.
Biff would handle the mizzen or aft sail by himself.
“Heave away, me hearties,” Mr. Brewster ordered.
The three “hearties” heaved, and the sails slid up their masts, and billowed gently out, catching a soft, warm wind. The sails were set and trimmed.
“Okay, Biff, you take over now.”
Biff came into the cockpit and took the tiller over from his father.