"So; belay there," the mate called out to the men who were slackening the main-sail. Going up to the binnacle, he observed the compass, and addressing the helmsman, said,
"Let her break off three points."
"Very good, Sir," replied the sailor; while the mate, still keeping his eyes on the compass, watched the needle till it reached the desired point, and exclaimed quickly, when he saw the vessel fast obeying her helm,
"Now; take her up;—don't let her break off any more."
"Ay, ay, Sir."
"How's that lee runner?" the mate asked, hearing the main-sail chafe against the runner block. "Slack it off, and take a turn or two at the weather one."
"Ay, ay, Sir."
The officer then walking the deck again, all was silent as before, with the exception only of a rippling sound as the cutter began to feel a breath of air, and move through the water.
The wind fairly sprung up at midnight, and at eight o'clock in the morning, the pilot came on board. About ten miles from Gottenborg, this pilot contrived to run the yacht aground at eleven A.M., and there she stuck until half-past two P.M.; but the mishap occurred not so much through his ignorance, as through the importunity of some custom-house officers, and the lightness of the wind. We reached Gottenborg in the course of the afternoon, and, after a great deal of shouting, swearing, hauling, and entangling of rigging, the yacht was moored very pleasantly alongside the quay. We were indebted to the courtesy of the Harbour-Master for the berth we obtained, since he compelled two large American ships to alter their position, and make room for us.