"No, I thank you," answered William. "I think we can get along very well without any of your help."
"Yes," chimed in Ben. Lake, "and we'll catch you before you are half-way to the island."
"We'll see about that!" shouted George, in reply.
By this time the Speedwell was fairly before the wind, the sails were hauled taut, the boys seated themselves on the windward gunwale, and the race began in earnest. But they soon found that it would be much longer than they had imagined. Instead of the slow, straining motion which they had expected, the Speedwell flew through the water like a duck, mounting every little swell in fine style, and rolling the foam back from her bow in great masses. She was, beyond a doubt, a fast sailer.
George and Harry shouted and hurrahed until they were hoarse, and Frank was so overjoyed that he could scarcely speak.
"How she sails!" exclaimed Harry. "If the Champion beats this, she will have to go faster than she does now."
Their pursuers were evidently much surprised at this sudden exhibition of the Speedwell's "sailing qualities;" and William hauled more to the wind and "crowded" his boat until she stood almost on her side, and the waves frequently washed into her.
"They will overtake us," said Frank, at length; "but I guess we can keep ahead of them until we cross the river."
And so it proved. The Champion began to gain—it was very slowly, but still she did gain—and when the Speedwell had accomplished half the distance across the river, their pursuers were not more than three or four rods behind.
At length they reached the island, and, as they rounded the point, they came to a spot where the wind was broken by the trees. The Speedwell gradually slackened her headway, and the Champion, which could sail much faster than she before a light breeze, gained rapidly, and soon came alongside.