"Boom-foresail," he said sharply.
The tall dark canvas rose and swelled. Columbine began to list and trailed a white line astern. The mole faded and the light looked farther off.
"Mainsail next," said Wyndham. "Hoist handsomely."
The winch by the mast began to clink; the big sail shook and thudded while its slack folds blew out, and the Kroos started a wild paddling song. The tension was over; they were running out to sea and nobody could hear them now. The song, however, soon got breathless; it was hard to drag up the heavy canvas while she was before the wind and Wyndham would not round her to. He braced himself against the wheel and steered off-shore for the three-mile limit.
They set the sail, and got more wind as they left the land. She rolled and foam ran level with her dipping rail. The long main boom lurched up and groaned; one heard the masts creak and the rigging hum. Her wake ran back into the dark like a white cataract.
"Hoist gaff-topsail," said Wyndham. "Trim the squaresail-yard."
Marston gave him a quick glance and then got to work. He doubted if the gear would stand the strain, but Harry knew the boat. Although the Krooboys looked surprised, it was obvious that they trusted him. It cost them a struggle to cover her with sail, and she drove along almost too fast to roll. A white wave stood up above her waist, another curled astern, and the hollow squaresail swelled like a balloon. Although the sea was smooth, water foamed on board and spray swept the deck in savage showers. The men crouched behind the bulwarks and when Marston went aft he got an exhilarating sense of speed.
"Do you want help?" he asked. "Can you hold her?"
"I think I can," said Wyndham, with an exultant note in his voice. "We have sailed some hard races, Bob, but none for a stake like this. If the masts will stand, she must go to-night!"
Marston nodded. "Looks as if we ought to win! I imagine the tug is not in harbor and Don Ramon is comfortably persuaded we're asleep at the mission. When he finds we're not, we'll be a long way off. I don't suppose they can march the troops to the port and embark them before it's dark." He paused and laughed when he resumed: "His promise to send the port-captain orders to let us go if we told him when we wanted to sail was clever. He knew, of course, we couldn't do so."