“Oh, we’ll get back some way,” Polly led the way down the rocks to the shore, and the rest followed. But it took some time to gather up the shells and seaweed they had collected, so that when they were ready to start the sun was sloping well down in the west, towards the back of Bald Bluff on the ocean shore.
Crullers had a hard time getting started. The other girls were well along on their course, before she left the shelter of the Cove, and even then, she failed to catch the puff of wind that should have carried her towards the inlet, where Polly said, they would tack, and cut across the bay in a triangle.
“I don’t see how you can do it, Polly,” Kate said doubtfully.
“The wind will change when the tide comes in,” Polly called. “We’ll be all right.”
“Oh, Polly, look at Crullers,” Sue cried, all at once, as she happened to glance back over her shoulder. “She’s off the course, and making for the open channel.”
The yachts were spread out like a line of geese, one behind the other, and Crullers’ was last of all. Polly stood up, one hand on her tiller, and looked back. Crullers was waving wildly and shouting something to them, but the wind carried her voice the other way. And the little, broad-keeled “cat” was taking her own pleasure, headed merrily for the open channel.
“Crullers, sit down and steer,” shouted Polly.
“I can’t,” cried Crullers, helplessly, “the wooden thing in the handle part of it’s broken.”
“Now what does she mean by that, the little lubber,” thought Polly. “It must be the pintle bolt. I’m glad she’s got three ring buoys in the locker.”
The other girls were dazed and couldn’t think what to do. Polly slackened her sail, and put about. As she passed the others, she called to them to keep along as they were and she would look after Crullers.