The hours passed slowly.  The wind continued to drop, until the vessel scarcely moved through the water, and, after a while, the sweeps were got out, and were worked until the day broke.  All eyes were on the lookout for the cutter, as the day dawn began to steal over the sky.

“There she is, sure enough,” the captain exclaimed at length, “lying to on the watch, some eight miles to the west.  She must have seen us, for we are against the light sky; but, like, ourselves, she is becalmed.”

It was a quarter of an hour, however, before the position of the cutter was seen to change.  Then her head was suddenly turned east.

“She has got the wind,” the captain said.  “Now we only want a good breeze, and you’ll have a lively day of it, lads.”

From the time when she had turned, the lugger had made only about eight miles along the coast to the east, and an equal distance seaward, for the tide had set against her.  The morning was bright and clear, the sea was perfectly smooth.  As yet, the sails hung idly down, but there were dark lines on the water that showed that a breeze was coming.

“We shall have plenty of wind presently,” the skipper said.  “See how light the sky is to the south.  There will be white tops on the waves in an hour or two.

“Here comes a flaw.  Haul in your sheets, lads, now she begins to move.”

The puff did not last long, dying away to nothing in a few minutes, and then the lugger lay immovable again.  The men whistled, stamped the deck impatiently, and cast anxious glances back at the cutter.

“She is walking along fast,” the skipper said, as he examined her through a glass.  “She has got the wind steady, and must be slipping along at six knots an hour.  This is hard luck on us.  If we don’t get the breeze soon, it will be a close thing of it.”

Another quarter of an hour passed without a breath of wind ruffling the water.  The cutter was fully two miles nearer to them than when she had first been seen, and was holding the wind steadily.

“Here it comes, lads,” the skipper said cheerfully.  “Another ten minutes, and we shall have our share.”

The time seemed long, indeed, before the dark line on the water reached the lugger, and there was something like a cheer, from the crew, as the craft heeled slightly over, and then began to move through the water.  It was the true breeze this time, and increased every moment in force, till the lugger was lying well over, with a white wave at her bow.

But the cutter had first gained by the freshening breeze, and James Walsham, looking back at her, judged that there were not more than four miles of water between the boats.  The breeze was nearly due west, and, as the lugger was headed as close as she would lie to it, the cutter had hauled in her sheets and lay up on the same course, so that they were now sailing almost parallel to each other.

“If we could change places,” the skipper said, “we should be safe.  We can sail nearer the wind than she can, but she can edge away now, and has all the advantage of us.”