Jerry grinned. “I think you’ve done it again, Skipper,” he said. “That’s the best question you’ve asked all night!”
“What do you mean?” Sandy asked, puzzled.
“I mean that he can’t put about on the other tack without an awful lot of trouble. We can, and we will, and with luck we’ll lose him that way!”
This time the maneuver was a familiar one of bringing the sloop up into the wind, shifting the genoa jib and coming off the wind to the new tack. It was performed smoothly, both boys working like an experienced crew.
On the new tack, they looked about once more for Jones’s following sloop. As they had hoped, the strange zigzag they had described had left him far astern, but still in sight. Even as they watched, they saw Jones drop his spinnaker and re-rig it on the new tack. Once more, he was in pursuit!
“I’ve never seen anyone handle sails that well,” Jerry said in unwilling admiration.
“Do you think we can outmaneuver him?” Sandy asked.
“Well, we might keep up the sort of thing we’ve been doing,” Jerry answered. “If we keep changing tacks, we can probably keep him out of close shooting range all night. Then, by morning, we can hope to see some other boats and maybe get help. There’s only one thing wrong with that plan, though.”
“I know,” Sandy offered. “We’re all right as long as we don’t make any mistakes. But the minute we goof on one maneuver, we lose the race! Right?”
“Right,” Jerry said. “Still, I don’t see what else we can do but try. We haven’t got much choice.” As they sailed on in silence, Sandy reviewed their situation. The trouble with their plan was a simple one. They had to do a perfect job of sailing, and he doubted whether they were up to it. All Jones had to do was follow their maneuvers, and when they made their first mistake, he would close in. There was no hope, he could see, in waiting for Jones to make the first mistake himself. The man was too good for that.