“I know it is,” he insisted. “Just look; we aren’t tipping half as much as we were.”
“I hope you’re wrong, Pop,” said Fred anxiously.
“But I’m not. Can’t you see it yourself?”
“Perhaps you’re right. At any rate it may only be a lull.”
In silence the four young sailors watched the sail and looked out over the water and gazed fearfully at the Spruce so close behind them now.
“She’s gaining,” announced John.
“No doubt of it,” said George. “What shall we do?”
“What can we do?” demanded John in despair.
“Can’t we take the reef out?”
“If we did,” said Fred, “we’d have to stop, and they’d surely pass us, and whether we’d ever catch them or not would be a question.”