Having received the assurance that the side-lights and stern-lights were burning brightly and that the look-outs were at their posts, the Third Officer stepped aft and demanded of the helmsman the course.
The man gave it without hesitation. Kelso glanced at the compass-bowl. The correct point was dead on with the lubber's line.
"Very good, Richards!" he remarked. "Keep her so."
Noticing Geoff he beckoned the lad to him. Together they paced the port or wind'ard side of the poop.
Presently conversation drifted round to the subject of the Old Man's outboard motor.
"I'd like to get that confounded box of dud tricks running," remarked Kelso. "Not that I'm keen on that type of engine; but somehow the Old Man's quite cut up about it. Dunno why, unless he's got an interest in the firm who make the things."
"Those flywheel magnetos are always unsatisfactory," remarked Geoff. "I know several fellows who had them in Poole. Not one could be relied upon."
"But this one has a separate mag, driven by bevel gear," declared Kelso.
The Third Officer and Geoff were talking freely now. The barrier of restraint had been swept away. Both were on common ground, discussing internal-combustion engines.
"So much the better then," asserted the latter. "Evidently the trouble is owing to their weak spark. You can't swing the flywheel quick enough."
"That's a fact," admitted Kelso, whose hands still bore testimony to his efforts in that direction. "That and high compression. Once she starts she goes."
"Then why not gear the mag?" suggested Geoff. "Gear it two to one, so that there'll be two sparks of the plug to every revolution of the flywheel? She ought to fire at a quarter turn then."
"She might," admitted Kelso. "But what happens to the spark that doesn't fire?"
"Nothing," replied Geoff. "It won't affect the explosion. I've seen a motor-boat engine with a magneto geared. It started like a bird."
"Really?" exclaimed the Third. "Look here; suppose we tackle the job? If it does all right it'll please the Old Man immensely. If we can get the engine to go by the time we reach Rio——"
"Light on the starboard bow, sir!" shouted the look-out for'ard.
Peter Kelso sprang to the lee rail. The Golden Vanity was on the port tack. Away on her starboard bow could be discerned a single red light—an indication that there was a sailing-ship on the starboard tack. If she were close hauled it would be the Golden Vanity's business to give way to her.
Geoff waited, wondering what the Third Officer would do. It seemed remarkable that two sailing-vessels, having miles of ocean to themselves, should converge in this manner.
Kelso, too, was waiting. On him the safety of the ship and all who sailed in her depended, and possibly that of the strange craft as well. He was waiting to observe the change of angle; an indication which would show whether the other vessel was sailing free or close hauled. Until he was certain on that point he was loath to warn the Watch.
In less than ten minutes the on-coming craft was clearly visible in the starlight when looked at through night-glasses. She was a full-rigged ship carrying all plain sail—which was precisely what the Golden Vanity was carrying.
Presently Kelso returned the binoculars to their case.
"She's the Blue Bird," he declared.
"The ship we're racing?" asked Geoff.
"Yes," replied the Third. "It's our bad luck. We'll have to give way. Inform Captain Corbold that the Blue Bird's two miles on our starboard bow close hauled on the starboard tack."
Geoff scurried down the poop ladder on his way to the Old Man's cabin. As he did so he heard the Third warning the Watch on deck to stand by.
Geoff knocked, and without waiting for permission entered the cabin. On one bulkhead was a bracket carrying a gimballed lamp. To keep off the glare the Old Man had painted green one section of the shade, so that his bunk was in shadow.
Captain Corbold was sleeping. His deep resonant snoring left no doubt on that score. He was lying on his back. His huge pyjama-clad body seemed to fill the entire space between the bunk-board and the bulkhead.
"Please sir!" began Geoff.
The Old Man opened his eyes.
"Mr. Kelso told me to inform you that the Blue Bird——"
The Old Man leapt out of his bunk.
"Is two miles off——"
The Old Man was already pulling on his clothes. Methodical in his habits he made a point of laying out every article ready to hand.
"On our starboard bow——"
The Old Man grabbed his rubber boots.
"Close hauled on the starboard tack!"
Geoff had delivered the message, but within ten seconds of its completion, Captain Corbold was making for the deck.
"What are we doing?" he demanded.
"I've put the helm up, sir," reported Kelso. "We couldn't point any higher. Shall we run under her lee and 'bout ship?"
"No," replied the Old Man promptly. "Go to lee'ard of her and then close haul."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the Third, not without a sense of disappointment. His idea, had he had a free hand, would have been to run under the Blue Bird's lee, go about smartly on the other tack and then attempt to get to wind'ard of the Golden Vanity's rival.
"Meet her! . . . At that!" cautioned Kelso to the helmsman.
In the starlight the sight of the Blue Bird tearing along with a great bone in her teeth and with her canvas setting like a glove was one never to be forgotten. The two ships passed within a cable's length of each other. In the half darkness the distance appeared to be even less. Then the Blue Bird's port light vanished from sight—hidden by the screen. As it did so, the Golden Vanity's courses and topsails shivered in the back-draught from the craft to wind'ard. Filled again as she drew clear. Then she plunged into the Blue Bird's lee-bow wave, taking it green over her shoulder.
Both vessels had drawn clear, but still Kelso did not give the order to up helm and brace up the yards. Geoff wondered why, seeing that the Vanity was losing what might prove to her valuable seconds. It was not until he caught sight of a phosphorescent swirl two hundred yards or more astern of the Blue Bird, that he realized the reason for the Third's delay in giving the expected orders. That swirl marked the position of the rotator of the Blue Bird's log—and it is considered neither good seamanship nor good form to cut another craft's log-line.
"'Bout ship, sir?" inquired Kelso.
Captain Corbold shook his head.
"Hold on close hauled," he decided. "It's a matter of luck either way. She may get a fair slant or we may not. 'Twill be a close run either way."
CHAPTER XIV. The Sea-serpent
For a full minute Davis kept his night-glasses focused on an object that showed faintly in the starlight at a maximum distance of a couple of cables' lengths.
By the time he had finished his scrutiny that distance had appreciably diminished.
"That's the stuff to give 'em, look you!" he said in a low voice to Setchell, who with the Welshman was cadet of the Morning Watch. "Get Wilson out of it for a bit."
Setchell gave a glance round. The poop was deserted save for the hand standing his trick at the wheel. The Officer of the Watch had left the deck for a few minutes.
"Where's the Second?" asked Setchell.
"Guzzling cocoa, you bet," replied Davis. "Look lively, or we'll miss the thing."