“Guess we shall if this wind holds. If it changes she’ll be off out to sea, and we shall lose her. Guess you’ll pay your five dollars all the same?”
“Look here,” said Gunson, roughly. “You’ve got an Englishman to deal with.”
“Oh, yes; guess I see that; but you send some ugly customers out here sometimes, stranger. Not good enough for yew to keep at home.”
Gunson made no answer, but sat watching the vessel, which, as it lay far out in the soft moonlight, looked faint, shadowy, and unreal.
Every now and then a good puff of wind filled our sail, so that the boat rushed through the water, and our hopes rose high, far we felt that in less than an hour we should be alongside our goal; but soon after Gunson would utter an impatient ejaculation, for the wind that sent us surging through the beautiful waters of the bay, sent the schooner along rapidly too, so that she grew more faint.
Once or twice I glanced back at the shore, to see how beautiful the town looked with its lights rising above lights, and all softened and subdued in the clear moonlight; but I was soon looking ahead again, for our chase was too exciting for me to take much interest in a view.
Every now and then the boat tacked, and we went skimming along with her gunwale close down to the water, when we were all called upon to shift our position, the boatman evidently doing his best to overtake the schooner, which kept seeming nearer and then farther off in the most tantalising way.
“Guess I didn’t ask you enough, skipper,” said the boatman. “This is going to be a long job, and I don’t think we shall dew it now.”
“Do your best, man,” said Gunson quietly. “I must overtake the schooner if it is possible.”
All at once the wind dropped, the sail shivered and flapped, and we lay almost without motion, but to our annoyance we could just make out the schooner with her sails well filled, gliding steadily away.