"Sartain, I am. I see Bobtail start off in her alone."
"We must get out of the way, but I don't know where to go to," groaned the captain. "I cal'late you've ruined me, Ben."
"I didn't do it," protested the nephew. "I keep a tellin' on you, he knowed all about it in the fust on't."
"Get up your fore'n mainsail. We must get out of this as quick as we can."
"You can't kerry the foresail. It blows like Sam Hill, and squally, too."
"Hist the mainsail then."
This sail was set, but the moment they began to hoist it, Mr. Hines made the signal agreed upon, by waving his handkerchief on the wharf, for the return of the Skylark. The steamer had gone, and most of the people had left the wharf by this time. Bobtail, who was on the lookout for the signal, saw it immediately, and headed the yacht for the pier. As Ben Chinks had remarked, it blew hard, and the wind came in heavy flaws. The Skylark had a single reef in her mainsail, and the jib was furled, but even with this short canvas she flew like a bird.
"There goes the Eagle," shouted Monkey from the forecastle.
"Who's on board of her?" asked Bobtail.
"I reckon it's Captain Chinks; it looks like him."