“Oh, there’s time enough for that,” said Poole coolly.
“I’ll take care of you. But I say, look! That gunboat is coming on two knots for our one. Can’t you see?”
“I can see her lights, of course, but it doesn’t seem to me that she is getting closer.”
“She is, though, and she’s bound to overtake us, for old Burgess is keeping right along the main channel. Why, if I didn’t know who was at the wheel,” cried the lad excitedly, “I should be ready to think that the steersman had proved treacherous, and was playing into the enemy’s hands. Oh, here’s father! I say, dad, do you see how fast that gunboat is overhauling us?”
“Oh yes,” said the skipper coolly. “It’s all right, my boy; Burgess knows what he’s about. He wants to get a little more offing, but it’s getting nearly time to lie over on the other tack.”
He had hardly spoken when the mate at the wheel called out—
“Now!”
The skipper gave a short, sharp order or two, the men sprang to the sheets, the schooner was turned right up into the wind, the sails began to shiver, and directly after they began to fill on the other tack, were sheeted home, and the Teal lay so over to starboard that Fitz made a snatch at a rope so as to steady himself and keep his feet.
“Why, he’ll have the sea over her side,” whispered Fitz excitedly.
“Very likely,” said Poole coolly. “Ah, you don’t know how we can sail.”