The wind
being off shore, the sloop was heeling the other way, showing quite a
portion of her black hull, which was in strong contrast with her
glistening white sides and snowy sails. The water was spurting away
from her bows, showing white along the black side below her water
line--all in all, an inspiring sight to the lover of boats and the big
water.
"Hurrah, see her go! She's skimming along like a scared cat. No, that
isn't our tub, darlin's. I know Dad. She will be safe, but she will
come limping and groaning down the line at a mile an hour, then
probably go aground in the bay because there won't be room enough for
her to turn about. You see if I'm not right."
"You are all wrong," answered Harriet. "How do I know? Never mind. You
will find that you are." She had seen a man hauling in on the main
sheets--the ropes that led from the mainsail back toward the cockpit.
From that she knew the boat was preparing to change its course. This
it did a few moments later, heading in toward the shore, but pointed
at a spot a full half mile below the camp, as nearly as the girls
could observe.
"Oh, that is too bad! See, they are going somewhere else," cried Miss
Elting. "Why--why, what are they trying to do? Are those people
crazy?"
"They are tacking in," answered Harriet.
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