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The loss of her big jib was the only thing that saved the Lass

from being hove down completely, for two hours later the gale had

reached its height, and she was laboring like a drunken man under

her staysail, topsail, and four lowers.

Twenty miles from home and the two schooners were abreast,

tacking together on the long leeward reaches and the short

windward ones, as they made across the Bay of Fundy.

"Look at her comin' like a racehorse!" cried Ellinwood again, and

this time Code recognized the vessel that was pursuing them. It

was the mystery schooner, and in all his life at sea Code had

never seen a ship fly as that one was flying then.

"Wonder what she's up to now?" he asked vaguely. But he gave no

further thought to the matter, for the Nettie B. claimed all his

attention. Suddenly from between the masts of the Burns schooner

a great flutter of white appeared as though some one had hung a

huge sheet from her stay.