'So long, captain. I'll tell them at 'Frisco that you're miles ahead. By the way, that other craft is not carrying stu'n's'ls. It's the new fashion, I believe.'
The 'Ocean Glory' continued her voyage, crossed the equator in good style, and after a delay of only one day she struck the first of the south-east trade winds, and in one long close-hauled board stood away about south-west-by-south, still keeping a sharp watch for the slightest sign of her opponent, and making rapid progress toward the bleak and stormy latitudes of Cape Horn.
Early one morning, in latitude 57°, 48' south, a hand aloft reported the 'Flying Scud' standing as themselves, some fifteen miles to the westward, and great excitement prevailed.
'I don't believe it can be that vessel!' the old man exclaimed. 'Clewlin, you have sharp eyes; here, take my glasses, and find out if she is really our rival.'
Within a few seconds Jack had perched himself snugly on the royal yard. He had some difficulty in picking up the vessel, yet, once he got her fairly focused she was not again lost sight of, but was certainly steering much 'freer' than themselves.
'It isn't the clipper, sir,' Jack presently sang out. 'She is all black fore and aft, and only carries royals.'
'I thought so,' the old man said. 'She's either a Sidney or a Melbourne packet, and is, of course, going easier.'
The stranger knew nothing of the 'Flying Scud.' As she drew up nearly abreast Captain Thorne eased his helm, and with yards slightly checked in the 'Ocean Glory' almost kept her place, despite the fact that the other was flying light with wool and passengers.
'Set our starboard topmast stu'n's'l,' the skipper sang out.
Mr. Fortune, unaccustomed to such 'carrying on,' eyed him nervously, but soon had the canvas set. It added half a knot, and made up the even ten knots an hour. Neither vessel now gained any advantage, and the old man smiled cheerfully.