At them, heeling well over, her crew at the rail ready to board the “Rocket,” came the schooner. Her first manœuvre had been to board by the bows. Now it looked as though the sailing vessel must strike amidships. Halstead gave a quick turn to the speed-ahead control. Answering, the motor boat took a jump ahead, then settled down to steady going. The schooner, left astern, jibed with a noisy flapping of sails.
“I think we can make it,” called up Dawson.
“We have made it,” called back Captain Halstead, joy ringing in his voice. “The only question is whether we can keep it up.”
“Let her out a bit more,” called Joe.
One hand on the wheel, the other on the speed control, the young skipper increased the speed by slow degrees until the “Rocket” had settled down to a steady twelve-mile speed.
Hank, relieved of the helm, ran aft. Standing on the stern rail, one arm wrapped around the flag-pole, young Butts made a lot of gestures at the crew of the schooner. Those gestures were eloquent of derision and contempt.
Five minutes later the schooner had given up the chase, heading off to the southward.
“Ev—everything is all safe now, isn’t it?” asked Eben Moddridge, shakily.
“Trouble seems to be all behind us,” replied Halstead.
“Then—er—I’m—I’m going below and lie down,” quaked Mr. Moddridge. “I never felt more nervous in my life!”