“She’s the Sea Horse, Cap’n!” bawled down the man aloft.
“Smart tug, she is,” agreed the skipper.
“And I believe that’s the Comet makin’ to meet the Seamew.”
“Both Norfolk Tug Company’s craft—and good ones. I wouldn’t give a dollar bonus either way on ’em, would you, Mr. Gates?”
“They’re just as near alike as the Seamew and the Gullwing are alike,” agreed the mate, and went forward.
We were standing in now directly for the channel. The Seamew was headed likewise. We were bound to pass close to our sister ship—so close that, as the moments slipped past, I began to feel some disturbance of mind.
Heaven knows the ocean was broad enough; but the two skippers were obstinate and eager. One would not be likely to want to give way to the other. And moment after moment the two great ships, their canvas filled and the white water split in great waves from their prows, rushed closer and closer together.
Chapter XXIII
In Which We Face Death by the Breadth of a Hair
I had walked forward, anxious over the situation of the sister ships. Tom Thornton was right by my side, for Mr. Barney had taken the wheel himself.