Another gun was fired; and all of a sudden there was a rattling of blocks and chains, and the four mainsails slowly rose, and the flapping jibs were run out.  The bows drifted round:  which would get way on her first?  But now there was a wild uproar of voices.  The boom end of one of the yachts had caught one of the stays of her companion, and both were brought up head to wind.  Cutter No. 3 took advantage of the mishap to sail through the lee of both her enemies, and got clear away, with the sunlight shining full on her bellying canvas.  But there was no time to watch the further adventures of the forty-tonners.  Here and closer at hand were the larger craft, and high up in the rigging were the mites of men, ready to drop into the air, clinging on to the halyards.  The gun is fired.  Down they come, swinging in the air; and the moment they have reached the deck they are off and up the ratlines again, again to drop into the air until the gaff is high hoisted, the peak swinging this way and that, and the gray folds of the mainsail lazily flapping in the wind.  The steamer begins to roar.  The yachts fall away from their moorings, and one by one the sails fill out to the fresh breeze.  And now all is silence and an easy gliding motion, for the eight competitors have all started away, and the steamer is smoothly following them.

“How beautiful they are!—­like splendid swans,” Miss White said:  she had a glass in her hand, but did not use it, for as yet the stately fleet was near enough.

“A swan has a body,” said Macleod.  “These things seem to me to be all wings.  It is all canvas, and no hull.”

And, indeed, when the large top-sails and big jibs came to be set, it certainly seemed as if there was nothing below to steady this vast extent of canvas.  Macleod was astonished.  He could not believe that people were so reckless as to go out in boats like that.

“If they were up in our part of the world,” said he, “a puff of wind from the Gribun Cliffs would send the whole fleet to the bottom.”

“They know better than to try,” Colonel Ross said, “Those yachts are admirably suited for the Thames; and Thames yachting is a very nice thing.  It is very close to London.  You can take a day’s fresh air when you like, without going all the way to Cowes.  You can get back to town in time to dine.”

“I hope so,” said Miss White, with emphasis.

“Oh, you need not be afraid,” her host said, laughing.  “They only go round the Nore; and with this steady breeze they ought to be back early in the afternoon.  My dear Miss White, we sha’n’t allow you to disappoint the British public.”

“So I may abandon myself to complete idleness without concern?”

“Most certainly.”