By the time they had all had a good look at it, and I had hung it
round my neck again, we had got full into the breeze of the outer
bay. My father, who held the tiller, managed to get to the weather
side of the St. Magnus, and when we reached the Ness point, where a
number of people had already gathered from the town to watch the
expected race, the two boats were bow to bow.
Beyond the point we brought up at the same moment as the St.
Magnus, and steered westward on the starboard tack, with a
southwesterly breeze swelling our sails. The Curlew now bent over
to leeward, our bow plunging into the waves, dashing them aside and
sending the foam surging in a long track far astern. With a strong
outrunning current in our favour we sped through the channel
between Stromness and Graemsay, the St. Magnus being now to
windward of us and several lengths behind.
Tom Kinlay was sitting on the weather gunwale near his father, who
was steering. It was easy to see that they were all suppressing
their excitement in the race; yet their craft was brought bravely
along in our track, and there was still a chance of their reaching
the ship before us. The result depended upon good steering, and
upon the readiness of each crew to lower sail at the right moment.
From watching the St.
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