"Overhaul them buntlines an' clewlines," he bawled to an
imaginary crew. "Set that main-royal." With McGuffey's help the
sheets came home, the halyards were taken to, the yards
mast-headed, and the halyards belayed to their pin. The
main-royal was now set so they fell to on the fore-royal. A word,
a gesture, from Mr. Gibney, and McGuffey would pounce on a rope
like a bull-dog. With the fore-royal set, Mr. Gibney ran back to
the wheel and put it hard over. There being no after sail set the
bark swung off readily on to her course, slipping through the
water at a nice eight-knot speed. Ten miles off the coast, Mr.
Gibney hung her up in the wind again, braced his yards with the
aid of the winch and McGuffey, came about and headed north. At
three o'clock she cleared the lightship and wore around to come
in over the bar, steering east by south, half-south, for Point
Bonita. She drew the full advantage of the wind now and over the
bar she came, ramping full through the Gate with her yards
squared, on the last of the flood tide.
As they passed Lime Point, Mr. Gibney prepared to shorten sail
and like a clarion blast his voice rang through the ship.
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