Dory could not see any reason why his uncle should follow him at all, and especially not why he should chase him in the night and the storm. It seemed to him not improbable that the Sylph had abandoned the pursuit, and gone up the lake.
While he was hoping the chase was ended on the part of his uncle, the Goldwing came up with the south-west point of the large island. Beyond it the sea looked very ugly, and it would shake the schooner up in a very lively manner in the next mile and a half she had to make. Dory did not care to take any needless risks; and, if the steamer had given up the chase, he intended to get under a lee, and anchor till morning.
He looked back once more before the boat reached a position where he could not see the other side of the lake. To his regret he saw the Sylph just coming into view beyond Ladd's Point. She had not given it up. He wished he had made another half mile, and then she could not have seen the schooner; for she would have been behind the island. She could see him plainly enough now, and she headed for the south of Ball Island.
Having passed through the channel between the islands, the weather there proved to be a perfect muzzler. The Goldwing labored heavily in the angry chop sea, and it was all Dory could do to keep her right side up. In a few minutes more it seemed quite impossible to do so, and Dory let go the mainsail halyards. Whether he was caught or not, he could no longer carry all sail. He had put the schooner before it, but he had to come up into the wind to get in the mainsail.
The young skipper's calculations had been within bounds, and he could afford the time he spent in reducing sail. With more experience he would have taken in sail from choice rather than necessity, for a boat don't sail any faster by being crowded with more sail than she can carry. The foresail was a large one, and it almost becalmed the jib. It was all the sail she needed, and Dory soon saw that he was going faster than at any time before.
A run of a mile and a half more brought the boat up with the extreme end of St. Alban's Point. An eighth of a mile west of it was a small island. Here was another of those channels which the low water rendered available for the purpose of the skipper in eluding his swift pursuer. The channel was about four feet deep; and Dory hauled in the fore sheet, and went through it. Under the lee of the island the skipper found the water quiet. Throwing the boat up into the wind, he ran forward, and hauled down the jib. Then he threw over the anchor, leaving the foresail set.
It was getting dark, and the manœuvring could not be kept up much longer. It would be fifteen or twenty minutes before the Sylph could come up with St. Alban's Point. The Goldwing was behind the island, and he did not think the people on board of her would discover where she was. If they did, she could not follow him through the shoal passage. If she got out her boats again, he could run off to the northward under the foresail. All he had to do was to watch and wait.
He had still a considerable supply of ham and hard-bread and cheese in the cabin; and, while he watched and waited, he ate his supper. Before he had eaten all he wanted, he saw the bow of the Sylph beyond the point of the little island. She had stopped her screw, and this made it evident to Dory that his uncle suspected he had gone through one of the openings to the other side of the islands.
The skipper of the Goldwing was tired of the chase, but he did not intend to be captured by his uncle. He could hear the escaping steam on board of the Sylph, and he knew that she was not more than a quarter of a mile distant from him. Captain Gildrock would get out his boats again, and send them through the passage, where the steamer could not go. Weighing the anchor, he stood off to the north-west under the foresail only.
Though the wind was blowing almost a gale, the schooner went along very well under the foresail. She had not made half a mile before Dory saw the Sylph standing down the bay again. This movement called for reflection on the part of the skipper. He was not quite willing to believe that his uncle would allow himself to be caught again by the old strategy. If she were going around to the north side of the islands, it was a five-miles' run; and it would take her half an hour to do it.