"Oh, but we can't help doing 'em," he responded. "We'll have 'em so walloped that they'll go into dry-dock for a month."
"You'd better rap on wood, Mr. Taberman," cautioned Mrs. Fairhew, with a smile. "I don't wish to be a croaking raven, but surely they're ahead now."
Mrs. Fairhew had, as the race went on, grown more and more alert. Her eyes had in them the spark of a genuine lover of sport, and all the womanly love of contest and conquest showed in the eagerness of her pose and air.
"Of course they're ahead," Jerry answered; "but we have the wind of them by a good deal."
"I hope that means something," the lady commented, with a movement of the head half eager, half humorous, "but I confess that it is all Greek to me."
Jerry began to explain, but before he could make things clear to the lady's unnautical mind, the yacht came about again to the port tack. The Merle was then so far to weather of the yawl that Jack ordered the sheets to be started a trifle.
"Now then, Jerry, here's where we overhaul them," Jack cried exultingly. "Just set the balloon-jib outside the headsails. I think she'll stand it."
"Want the staysail?" asked the mate.
"No—'twould spoil her helm," returned the captain. "Jump along, old man."
The change was effected as quickly as might be, and the yacht's speed was visibly increased.