"Now then," he shouted, "we'll fool 'em!" He gripped the spokes, and the men ran to the sheets at command while the Karluk shot off at right angles to her previous course, skirting the fog that blanketed the wind but yet allowed sufficient breeze to filter through to give them headway, gliding like a ghost on the new tack to the east.
Rainey, tense from the explosion of the shell, jumped below at last and came back exultant.
"It was a dud, Lund!" he shouted. "Or else they didn't want to blow us up on account of the gold. But they've wrecked the cabin. The fog's coming in through the hole they made. Tamada's galley's gone. It's raked the schooner!"
"So long's it's above the water line, to hell with it! We'll make out. Listen to the fools. They've gone in after us, straight on."
The booming of the gunboat's forward battery sounded aft of them, dulled by the fog—growing fainter.
"Lund's luck! We've dodged 'em!"
"They'll be waiting for us at the passes," said Rainey. "They've got the speed on us."
"Let 'em wait. To blazes with the Aleutians! Ready again there for a tack! Sou'-east now. We'll work through this till we git to the wind ag'in. It's all blue water to the Seward Peninsula. We're bound for Nome."
"For Nome?" asked Peggy Simms.
"Nome, Peggy! An American port. The nearest harbor. An' the nearest preacher!"