On Sunday you and I will be around Benicia up to the very moment Demetrios's sail heaves into sight.
I guess it was the disappointment written on my face that made him desist; for I, also, had a pride in my boat- sailing abilities, and I was almost wild to get out alone with the big sail and go tearing down the Carquinez Straits in the wake of the flying Greek.
He lowered sail a couple of hundred yards out and set his customary fifty feet of rotten net.
The fishermen crowded around in a spirit of fun, and when I started to get up sail overwhelmed me with all sorts of jocular advice.
I waited to give Charley all the time I could, and I pretended dissatisfaction with the stretch of the sail and slightly shifted the small tackle by which the huge sprit forces up the peak.
I was right behind him all the time, and I dared to do whatever he did, even when he squared away before the wind and jibed his big sail over--a most dangerous trick with such a sail in such a wind.
But I was on my mettle, and never in all my life did I sail a boat better than on that day.
This allowed the sail to spill the wind, which was equivalent to taking off so much driving power, and of course I lost ground.
I was dripping wet, and even the sail was wet half-way up the after leech.
The huge sail, the howling wind, the driving seas, the plunging boat--I, a pygmy, a mere speck in the midst of it, was mastering the elemental strife, flying through it and over it, triumphant and victorious.
So quickly did it all happen that I was entangled in the sail and drawn under.
Also Charley was raised high in their esteem, while I came in for a little share of praise as a boy who knew how to sail a boat.