The main-peak was dropped to lessen the yacht's way, and as the red flare became more distinct, the outer jibs were doused. Keeping the shore close aboard on the port side, the Merle ran along toward the ruddy blur of the fire, which was now seen to be burning at the end of a point. As the boat neared this point, Jack seized the megaphone, and putting the big cone to his lips, faced the fire, which was now abeam.
"Hallo!" he roared. "Hallo, there! Gonzague!"
A sudden and confused shouting out of the fog answered him. Then black figures, silhouetted against the red brightness of the fire and waving burning brands, ran to and fro with odd antics and caperings.
"'Bout ship!" cried Dave. "'Ware boom! Douse the heads'ls!"
The Merle came over on the other tack, and the staysail and jibs were run down. The main-sheet was then so started as to spill the wind out of the sail, and the yacht's way was quickly lessened. Having rounded the point, the schooner moved ahead sluggishly, again passing the bonfire on the port hand.
"Stand by the anchor!" sang out Dave, as they ran by the end of the jetty.
"Hooray!" yelled a chorus of voices from the pier. "Hooray, Dave!"
Dave twirled the wheel to starboard, and the Merle came slowly into the eye of the wind, where he kept her until she seemed to be making sternway.
"Well enough!" he shouted. "Let her go!"
And the anchor-chain rattled down in three and a half fathoms.