“Seems to me if I had such a great craft as the Seamew, I’d have got farther ahead than you be now,” returned our skipper, with scorn. “I reckon the race ain’t over yet.”
“It’s pretty near over. We got good weather comin’. The Seamew can walk away with you in a fair wind.”
“All right. Brag’s a good dog, but Holdfast’s a better one,” said Cap’n Joe. “Wait till we sight the Capes o’ Virginia.”
She was too far away from us then for Cap’n Si to shout again. The rest of us had grinned or scowled at the men aboard the Seamew, as our natures dictated. I had noticed that the boat found adrift with Singh and Phillis in it, had been hoisted aboard the Seamew and was lashed amidships.
Away we went on our tack, came about, and again neared our rival. The Seamew was not pulling away from us much; the wind was heavy. The Gullwing crept up on her and, finally, when the Seamew tacked again, we did the same and she had no chance to cross our bows, even had she been able to.
So we sailed, neck and neck, not half a mile from each other, both ships plunging through the swells with a line of white foam under their quarters, and well heeled over to the wind. Whichever won the race—whether the Gullwing or the Seamew—it would be a good fight.
Chapter XXII
In Which the Capes of Virginia Are In Sight
We had a stiff wind blowing—half a gale, indeed—and when we raised other sailing ships, their canvas was clewed down and some of them were running under little more than stormsails. But neither the captain of the Seamew nor of the Gullwing had any intention of losing a breath of such a favorable breeze.
Our ship heeled over until her rail was under water; and she was laden so heavily that this sort of sailing was perilous. Suppose some of the cargo should shift? Where would we be? Well, just about there, I guess!