“What’s that?” cried Harvey. “Stuck? Nonsense! Here, you, Joe, hold this wheel a moment. I’ll have it up in a hurry.”
He sprang forward, brushing George Baker out of the way impatiently.
“Let me get hold there,” he said.
Harvey seized the iron rod, which was fastened to the centreboard, and gave a strong pull. But the centreboard did not budge. He took a firmer hold and pulled with all his strength. It was of no avail. The board had stuck fast in its box.
“I’ll have it up or break something,” cried Harvey, beside himself with anger, and again he grasped the rod with both hands and gave a furious wrench. There was a most unexpected and baffling verification of his threat, for the rod, broken off short at its connection with the centreboard, did come up, so suddenly that Harvey sprawled over backwards, still grasping the rod with both hands clenched, and rolled over on the floor of the cockpit.
There was no such thing as getting the centreboard up now. It was down to stay.
Harvey, white with rage, sprang to his feet and hurled the rod into the sea. Then he took his seat sullenly at the wheel again.
“That settles it,” he said, as soon as he could speak for anger. “We haven’t a ghost of a chance now. I shouldn’t wonder, even, if the Sally overhauled us.” And he looked back helplessly at the yacht astern.
Slowly but surely the Anna Maud forged ahead. The distance between her and the Surprise grew ever farther and farther.
“That’s queer,” said Captain Silas Tucker, looking back at Harvey’s yacht. “I thought she was going to give us a harder run home than that. I’ve heard the boat was good off the wind, but she doesn’t seem to be doing well. It’s first prize for us this trip, and easily won. Well, your Uncle Silas hasn’t sailed around these parts all his life for nothing.”