The old boatman went forward grinning, and he and his boy lowered the mainsail. Then Talboys at the helm brought the boat's head round to the wind. She came down to her bearings directly, which is as much as to say that to Lucy she seemed to be upsetting.
Lucy gave a little scream. The sail, too, made a report like the crack of a pistol.
“Oh, what is that?” cried Lucy.
“Wind, mum,” replied the boatman, composedly.
“What is that purple line on the water, sir, out there, a long way beyond the other boat?
“Wind, mum.”
“It seems to move. It is coming this way.”
“Ay, mum, that is a thing that always makes to leeward,” said the old fellow, grinning. “I'll take in a couple of reefs before it comes to us.”
Meantime, the moment the lugger lowered her mainsail, the schooner, divining, as it appeared, her intention, did the same, and luffed immediately, and was on the new tack first of the two.
“Ay, my lass,” said the old boatman, “you are smartly handled, no doubt, but your square stern and your try-hanglar sail they will take you to leeward of us pretty soon, do what you can.”