With the Emerald it was very different. Her huge mainsail was almost too much for her, now that she was hauled close upon a wind; and as we looked astern, we could see her taking plunge after plunge, and sending her sharp bows clear through the seas at every dive, until her jib and foresail were wet half-way up to their heads, whilst her lee-rail was completely buried in the boiling surge.
Now that we were close-hauled, the Emerald walked up to us, though by no means so rapidly as might have been expected. There was no comparison between the powers of the two craft, yet, though we certainly dropped to leeward a little more than she did, it was only a little; and the difference in our speeds was very trifling, considering the great difference in size between the cutter and ourselves.
About a quarter of an hour after we rounded the light-ship, the Emerald passed us close to windward. She presented a most beautiful sight, at least to a nautical eye, as she swept by. She was heeling over to such an extent that the water was up over her deck, on the lee-side, nearly to the skylights and companion; and her immense sails were driving her so irresistibly through the short, jumping seas, that she had no time to rise to each as she met it. Her bowsprit plunged deeply into the advancing wave, her sharp bows cleft it asunder, and then, as they rose through it, amidst a blinding shower of spray, the water shipped forward, rushed foaming aft and to leeward like a swollen mountain torrent, until it mingled with the water which flooded her decks to leeward.
As soon as she was past us, her crew hauled down a couple of reefs in her mainsail, and set a smaller jib. This, of course, relieved her very materially, and, if anything, rather increased than diminished her speed, as she kept sailing round and round us with ease, until we were well over towards Weymouth Roads once more, and it had become perfectly evident that we needed no looking after.
As soon as he was quite satisfied of this, Lord — made the best of his way to the anchorage, and brought up, having had such a dusting as ought to have satisfied him for some time to come.
As for Bob and myself, we were as pleased with our novel boat as it was possible to be. She proved to be a perfect success in every way; and when we took the tubes to pieces to stow them away, we found, so accurately had the joints been made, that not a drop of water had penetrated to the interior of either.
One alteration, however, we resolved to make, and that was in the size of the sails. The boat was stiff enough to carry much larger sails than we had provided for her; and as we did not know but that a time might come when speed would be a matter of the most vital importance to us, we determined to furnish her with sails as large as it was prudent to carry.
We also decided to alter her rig somewhat, by substituting what is known among the initiated as a “sliding-gunter” for a gaff-mainsail. This gives you a mainsail and jib-headed topsail in one, whilst it does away with the gaff altogether, whereby you obtain a much flatter standing sail; indeed, when this sail is properly cut (and it is not a difficult sail to shape), there is nothing to beat it in this respect.
Accordingly, we despatched an order to Lapthorn that night for the new suit of sails, and also for a balloon-topsail for the Water Lily, the dimensions of which satisfied even Bob, greedy as he was for canvas.
Meantime, the remainder of our stores were ordered, received, and shipped, and ten days after our arrival in Weymouth Roads we had everything on board which we could think of as necessary or likely to be in any degree useful to us on our voyage.