"And this old tub looks like a slop bucket," complained Midkiff.
"Handsome is as handsome does," laughed Kingdon. "We know how well the Spoondrift acted the other day in that squall."
"She certainly spoke her little piece coming up from Boston," Red admitted.
"That other boat's going to cross our bow, Kingdon," Peewee announced excitedly.
"Don't you believe it, infant," was the prompt rejoinder.
"But she is, I tell you——"
"Watch out!" called Kingdon. He swung the tiller hard over and the Spoondrift turned almost on her heel. The white spume flew across the decked-over bows into the cockpit, Cloudman getting about half a bucketful down the back of his neck.
"What do you think you're doing?" he yelled, leaping up.
"Hold on!" advised Red, choked with laughter.
The sail of the Spoondrift caught and held every ounce of wind possible. She was shooting along, splashing through the waves with a lift of her nose that shook her from stem to stern.