And always, when it fell, we sculled fiercely and gained on
her, if only a little.
So another half hour passed, with its hopes and disappointments,
and then we were flying down on her with a breeze of our own, when
the end came. The wind shifted and I met it, and that shift did all
for us. It reached the ship, and took the clew of the sail inboard,
shaking and thundering, while the sheets lashed to and fro across
the deck. Then somewhere those sheets jammed and held fast, and as
if the canvas had been flattened in of set purpose, she luffed,
until with a great clap of the sail against the mast, the whole of
her upper canvas was aback, and she was hove to helplessly. Maybe
she was a furlong from us at the moment, and Bertric shouted.
"We have her," I cried, "if only all holds!"
"She will gather stern way directly," said Bertric, with set teeth.
"Then she will fall off again, and the sheets will get adrift."
We flew down on her, but we had been tricked so often before that
we hardly dared to hope. Now we were close to her bows, and we
heard the great yard creaking and straining, and the dull flapping
of the loose canvas of both tack and clew which had blown inboard.
The ship lurched and staggered under the uneasy strain, but the
tackle held, and we had her.
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