“I know what he did next,” said Ben, continuing the thread of his conjectures.
“Wha’ you tink, Massa Brace?”
“He tuk in sail. I don’t know why he didn’t do it sooner; for I called to him to do that, an’ he must ha’ heerd me. I’ve jest got a idea that the fault was not his’n. When I hauled up that bit o’ canvas, I’ve a sort o’ recollection o’ puttin’ a ugly knot on the haulyards. Maybe he warn’t able, wi’ his little bits o’ digits, to get the snarl clear, as fast as mout a’ been wished; an’ that’ll explain the whole thing. Sartin he got down the sail at last,—eyther by loosin’ the belay, or cuttin’ the piece o’ rope, and that’s why there be no canvas in sight. For all that, the Catamaran can’t be so fur off. She hadn’t had time to a’ drifted to such a great distance,—’specially if the sail were got down the time as we missed it.”
“Dat am true. I miss de sail all ob a sudden,—jess as if it had come down, yard an’ all, straight slap bang.”
“Well, then, Snowy,” continued the sailor, in a tone of increased cheerfulness, “if’t be as we conjecture, the craft ain’t far ahead o’ us yet. Maybe only a knot or two; for one can’t see far over the water who happens to be neck-deep under it as we be. In any case she be sure to be lying to leuart o’ us; and, without the sail, she won’t drift faster than we can swim, nor yet so fast. Let us do the best we can to make a mile or two’s leeway; an’ then we’ll know whether the old Cat’s still crawling about, or whether she’s gin us the slip altogether. That’s the best thing we can do,—ain’t it?”
“De berry bess, Massa Brace. We can’t do nuffin’ better dan swim down de wind.”
Without further parley, the two set themselves to the task thus proposed; and one striking with his right hand, the other with his left,—both buffeting the waves with equal vigour and resolution,—they were soon sweeping onward with a velocity that caused the sea to surge along the sides of the chest, until the froth rose to the fingers of Lilly Lalee as she lay grasping its lid!