Well, sir, fathom by fathom the steamer had her way of us.  She had drawn close enough to let Mr. Robinson make out the people abroad.  As for me, I was at the helm; for there was something in the maneuvering of the steamer that made me suspicious, and I wasn’t going to trust any man but myself at the tiller.  We held on as we were; we couldn’t improve the schooner’s speed by bringing the wind anywhere else than where it was; and no good was to be done by cracking on, even though it had, come to our dragging what we couldn’t carry; for the steamer’s speed was a fair fourteen if it was a mile, and our yacht was not going to do that, you know, or anything like it.  The moon had arisen, and the sea ran like heaving snow from the windward, and by this time the steamer was about half a mile ahead of us, about three points on the weather bow.  She was as plain as if daylight lay on her.  All the time the party and Mr. Robinson had kept the deck, she taking a view now and then of the steamer with an opera-glass.

“Suddenly I yelled out, ’Mr. Robinson, by all that’s holy, sir, that vessel there means to run us down!  Lads,’ I shouted, ’tumble aft quick, and see the boats all ready for lowering!’

“The lady jumped up with a scream, and seized hold of Mr. Robinson’s arm, who seeming to forget what he was about, shook her off, and fell to raving to me to see that the steamer didn’t touch us.  By thunder, sir, there was the cowardly brute slanting her flying length as though to cross our hawse, but clearly aiming to strike us right amidships.  I shouted to the men to make ready and ’bout ship, and a minute after I shoved the tiller over, and the yacht rounded like a woman waltzing.  But before we had gathered way the steamer was after us.  The lady sent up scream after scream.  Mr. Robinson stood motionless, seeing as plain as I that if the steamer meant to sink us there was no seamanship in this wide world that could stop her; and I saw the men throwing off their shoes and half stripping themselves, ready for what was to come.

“The steamer headed dead to strike our weather-beam; she rushed at us with the foam boiling over her bows; once more I chucked the schooner right up into the wind, and the steamer went past us like a rocket under our stern.  I looked at her and sha’n’t ever forget what I saw.  There was a white-haired man, with white whiskers and bareheaded, roaring and raging at us in the grasp of three or four seamen.  ’Twas like a death-struggle.  A chap who looked as if he had just seized the wheel was grinding it hard over to get away from us; and so the steamer fled past, more like a nightmare than a reality, and in a few minutes was standing with full speed to the norrard, where, in less than a quarter of an hour, she faded slick out of sight.