"Good, my lad! I will time you. If it takes forty-nine, you are no prophet."
"I don't expect to tell within a minute; but I guess I'll steer myself, if you are going to whittle me down as close as that."
Bobtail began to be very exact in his steering and sailing. He started the sheets a couple of inches, and watched the point ahead very closely. Ten miles an hour was fast sailing for a boat of the size of the Skylark; but he knew she would do it if she was well handled. The two gentlemen kept looking at their watches, and as the distance diminished they declared she would make the point in half an hour; but distances are very delusive on the water, and when half an hour had elapsed, they thought that five minutes more would bring the boat up with the headland. Bobtail watched his sails, and "steered small." In forty minutes he found that he should make the point a little too soon, and he let out the jib-sheet a little, so that the sail did not draw full.
"Forty-five minutes!" exclaimed Mr. Jones, "and we are off the point."
"But we are not up with it, sir," replied Bobtail, hauling in the jib-sheet again.
"You are cutting it fine, Captain Bobtail," added Mr. Howe.
"Of course I meant abreast of the point, and when it lies just abeam, we shall be up with it. Here we are, sir!"
"Forty-eight minutes to a second!" ejaculated Mr. Jones, as he showed his watch to the skipper.
"Lower the jib, Monkey!" shouted Bobtail.
"I did not think you could hit it so closely as that," said Mr. Howe.