Presently it was the Kestrel’s turn to round the mark buoy. She had it all to herself, for the bunch of four were already on the homeward run, while the remaining two competitors were well astern.
“Stand by!” cautioned Mr. Grant. “Ready with the spinnaker!”
Moving as softly as cats, Carline and Heavitree prepared the halliards and out-haul of the spinnaker. Round swept the Kestrel, making the mark buoy curtsey in her wash. Over flew the boom in a deliberate gybe.
“Up spinnaker!” ordered the Scoutmaster.
In double quick time the huge but light triangular sail was set and sheeted home. Now the Kestrel was at her best. Running was her strong point. The foam frothed at her cut-water and trailed astern in an ever-diverging double wake. In five minutes she had overtaken the partly crippled Plymouth cutter, the crew of which, far from being dismayed, had also set spinnaker. She was making a gallant fight against long odds, and the Kestrel’s crew broke a prolonged silence by giving the West Country Sea Scouts a rousing cheer.
A stern chase is proverbially a long one, but slowly yet surely the Kestrel was decreasing the distance between the now straggling procession of leading boats. The task entailed ceaseless vigilance on the part of the Scoutmaster. An accidental gybe at this state of the proceedings would be disastrous. In all probability the Kestrel’s mainmast would be carried away, but in any case the mainsail would mask the spinnaker and deprive it of its pulling power.
At the last bend, which was so gentle that there was no necessity to gybe and reset the spinnaker, the Kestrel was fourth. A Poole boat, staggering under a press of bellying sail, was leading. Following her came the centre-keeled Humber cutter, the crew of which had set a large square sail in addition to their working canvas. Next the Bristol boat, which, having made good following her temporary grounding, had failed to maintain her advantage while running.
Less than a quarter of a mile ahead could be seen the anchored boat that marked one end of the finishing line. The distance was too short to enable the Kestrel to overhaul the remaining three ahead. True, she drew level with the Bristol cutter; but, impeded by the far-flung bow wave of the latter, she was unable to continue her advantage. Yet the pace was terrific. Peter found himself wondering what would happen when the competing yacht crossed the line. There seemed no room to turn owing to the crowd of anchored yachts and boats beyond.
“Stand by!” cautioned Mr. Grant crisply.
Bang! went the gun for the foremost yacht. Five seconds later another report greeted the arrival of the second. Then, almost simultaneously, the gun fired twice.