Tons of divided water crashed down upon her decks and roared off over the rails, the men at the wheel were never less than knee-deep. The sheets strained, the timbers creaked, and the sails roared, and back of all were the wind and the North Atlantic in hot pursuit.
By noon it could be seen that the three vessels ahead were commencing to come back, but with terrible slowness. Code, lashed in the weather-rigging, studied them for more than an hour through his glasses. Then he leaped to the deck.
"Hell's bells! No wonder we can't catch 'em! Burns has got stays'l set, and I think Tanner has, too. Couldn't see Martin. Set stays'l, all hands!"
Under the driving of Ellinwood the staysail was set, and from then on the _Charming Lass_ sailed on her side.
At every roll her sheerpoles were buried, and it seemed an open question whether she would ever come up or not. It was at this time that Tip O'Neill, a daring young buck of Freekirk Head, performed the highly dangerous feat of walking from her main to her forerigging along the weather run, which fact shows there was foothold on her uppermost side for a man crazy enough to desire it.
That Ellinwood and the daring Jimmie Thomas were thoroughly in accord with Schofield's preposterous sail-carrying was a foregone conclusion. But others of the crew were not of the same mind. An hour more here or there seemed a small matter to them as compared to the chance of drowning and leaving a family unprotected and unprovided for.
Schofield sensed this feeling immediately it had manifested itself, and he called his lieutenants to him. He wished to provide against interference.
"House the halyards aloft!" he commanded, and at this even those two daring souls stood aghast, for it meant that whatever the emergency no sail could be taken off the _Charming Lass_. With the end of the halyards aloft no man could reach them in time to avert a catastrophe.
"You're sure drivin' her, skipper!" roared Pete in amazed admiration. "Up them halyards go. Oh, Lord, but she's a dog, an' she'll stand it."
So up the halyards went, and with them went a warning that whoever jumped to loosen them would get a gaff-hook in his breeches and be hauled down ignominiously.
This time when the log was hauled for the hour from three to four in the afternoon it showed a total of seventeen knots, or a fraction under twenty miles for the hour. And best of all, the three flying schooners had come back five miles. By ten o'clock that night Code judged they had come back five more, and knew that the next day would bring the test.