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It was evident, however, that something must give. Human

ingenuity had not constructed a vessel that could stand such

driving. Even Pete Ellinwood began to lose his heartiness as the

Lass went down and stayed down longer with each vicious squall.

"Shut up, Pete!" said Code, when the mate started to speak. "No

sail comes off but what blows off, and while there's all sail on

the Nettie I carry all sail if I heave her down for it. Watch

him, he'll break. Burns is yellow."

The words were a prophecy. He had hardly uttered them when down

came the great balloon jib of the Nettie B. At once the Lass

began to gain in great leaps and bounds. They were fifty miles

from home and two miles only separated them.

But fortune had not finished with Code. Half an hour later there

came a great sound of tearing like the volley of small arms, and

the Lass's balloon jib ripped loose and soared to heaven like

some gigantic wounded bird.

"Let it go, curse it," growled Code. "Anyway, I didn't take it

down."