“Now!” Sally gave the signal.
Instantly Penny swung the Cat’s Paw onto the homeward tack. Every inch of her sails drawing, she swept toward the finish line.
“We’re so much farther away than the Spindrift,” Penny groaned, crouching low so that her body would not deflect the wind. “Oh, Sally, will we make it?”
“Can’t tell yet. It will be nip and tuck. But if we can keep this breeze—”
The wind held, and the Cat’s Paw, sailing to windward of the finish line, moved along faster and faster. On the other hand, the Spindrift was forced to make several short tacks, losing distance each time. The boats drew even.
Suddenly Sally relaxed, and slumped down on the cushions.
“Just hold the old girl steady on her course,” she grinned. “That brass lantern is the same as ours!”
“Then we’ll win?”
“We can’t lose now unless some disaster should overtake us.”
Even as Sally spoke, boat whistles began to toot. Sailing experts nodded their heads in a pleased way, for it was a race to their liking.