There was, however, no sign of either confusion or consternation, and Jordan's voice was quieter than usual.
"Up helm. Off with the mainboom, boys," he said.
Stickine pulled over the wheel, the long mainboom swung out amidst a rattle of blocks, and the Champlain came round, until instead of sailing close hauled to it she was running before the wind.
"Topsails," said Jordan. "Yard-headers. He hasn't got us yet."
There was no controverting that, but while Appleby knew the pace the Champlain could make when hard pressed it seemed almost impossible that she could out-sail a steamer. Still, the skipper's quiet voice was curiously reassuring, and he remembered that Stickine had told him there were two ways of winning a race. In the meanwhile the gaff topsails went up banging, and the foam was flying white when they were sheeted home. Then the men stood still about the rail, each busy with the unasked question—Had the commander of the gunboat seen them? The Champlain's stern was towards him now, and her mainsail alone would be visible with her masts in line.
They had not, however, long to wait for an answer, for suddenly a blaze of light drove through the haze and smote the straining canvas. Then it sank a little, forcing up the men's set faces and lighting all the deck.
For a moment or two the lads could see every one of them sharp and clear in the dazzling brilliancy, and then there was a bewildering darkness again, for the light went out. The gunboat had also gone with it, and they were once more alone in the fog.
"Seen us sure!" said Stickine.
Jordan laughed softly. "Running!" he said. "She'll not come round with him as we did. Let her come up. Boys, we'll have all sheets in."
In came the mainboom, the foresail and jibs were hauled in too, and the schooner's lee rail was swept by the frothing brine when she came up once more close-hauled to the wind. Still, Appleby wondered, for the gunboat was to windward of them, and Niven, who stood close by him, turned to one of the men to ask a question.