"The deuce! Who's forrud?"
"Billy and Joe."
"All right. Must be damp for 'em up there."
"Can't see. Guess it's blue water to the knees, most of the time."
"Shouldn't wonder. Do 'em good."
After this jargon was finished, it did not take long to run down to the False Duck Light. Here the double-reefed mainsail was "squatted" and the fourth reef-pennant hauled down. The reefed staysail was taken in and stowed; and under the peak of the mainsail they jibed over. Steering by the compass, they then rounded to leeward of Timber Island and hauled their wind into South Bay.
To put the Ideal over so far with so little canvas showing, it must have been blowing a gale. They sped up into the bay close hauled, and "came to" in about four fathoms. Down went the big anchor through the hissing ripples to that best of holding-grounds, and the vessel, drifting back as if for another wild run, suddenly fetched up with a grind on her iron cable. The mad thing knew that unyielding grip, and swung around submissively.
CHAPTER X.
Full souls are double mirrors, making still
An endless vista of fair things before,
Repeating things behind.