James had already perceived this, and wondered that the lugger did not pay off before the wind, so as to make a stern chase of it.

“I want to get a few miles farther out,” the skipper said.  “Likely enough there is another cutter somewhere inshore.  It is quite enough to have one of these fellows at one’s heels.”

Another half hour and the cutter, edging in, was little over three miles distant.  Then the skipper gave the word, the helm was put down, the sheets slackened off, and, in a minute, the lugger was running dead before the wind with her sails boomed out, one on either side.  The cutter followed her example, and hoisted a large square sail.

The wind was blowing fresh now, and the sea was getting up.  Not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, and the sun shone brightly on the white heads which were beginning to show on the water.  The lugger was tearing along, occasionally throwing a cloud of spray over her bows, and leaving a track of white water behind her.

“I think she still gains on us,” the captain said to the mate, who had taken the helm.

“Ay, she is gaining,” the sailor agreed, “but the wind is freshening every minute.  She can’t carry that topsail much longer.  It’s pressing her bows under now.”

“She will go almost as fast without it,” the skipper said.

The commander of the cutter seemed to be of the same opinion, for, just as he spoke, the topsail was seen to flutter, and then descended to the deck.  It was a quarter of an hour before the skipper spoke again.

“I think we just about hold our own,” he said.  “I didn’t think the Polly could have held her running.”

“She couldn’t, in a light wind,” the mate replied; “but with this wind, it will want a fast boat to beat her.”

The hands were now set to work, shifting the kegs further aft.

“That’s better,” the skipper said presently.  “I am sure we are gaining ground, and our masts will stand it, if the cutter’s will.”

With her stern low in the water, the lugger was now tearing along at a tremendous pace.  Stout as were her masts, and strong the stays, James Walsham wondered at their standing the strain of the great brown sails, as they seemed, at times, almost to lift her bodily out of the water.  Buoyant as the craft was, the waves broke over her bows and flooded her decks, and sheets of spray flew over her.

The cutter, with her sharper bows and all her sail forward, was feeling it still more severely, and the spirits of all on board the lugger rose rapidly, as it was evident that they were dropping their pursuers.  Suddenly, the gaff of the cutter’s mainsail was seen to droop, and the boom was hauled on board.

“I thought it would be too much for them,” the skipper said exultantly.  “They are going to reef.”

“We had better reef down too, I think,” the mate said.  “She has had as much as she could bear for some time.”