Mark seized a scull to push her off, when letting go the sheet the foresail flapped furiously, drawing the cord or rope through the staple as if it would snap it. Bevis, fearing the boat would turn over, let go the mainsheet, and then the mainsail flew over the left side, flapping and shaking the mast, while the sheet or rope struck the water and splashed it as if it were hit with a whip.
“Pull down the mainsail,” shouted Bevis, stumbling forward.
“Hold tight,” shouted Mark, giving a great shove with the scull. The boat came off, and Bevis was thrown down on the ballast. The wind took her before they could scramble into their places, and she drifted across the mouth of the Nile and grounded again.
“Down with the sail, I tell you,” shouted Bevis in a rage. “Not that one—the big one.”
Mark undid the cord or halyard, and down fell the mainsail into the boat, covering Bevis, who had to get out from under it before he could do anything.
“Did you ever see such a bother?” said Mark.
“Is anything broken?” said Bevis.
“No. You ought to have tacked sooner.”
“How could I tell? She wouldn’t come round.”
“You ought to have had room to try twice.”