The lower sails soon took their cue, and suddenly the slack sheets hummed taut in the breeze.
The "Petite Jeanne" answered to it at once, and the waves gurgled and laughed beneath her counter as she moved through the water.

She could sail quicker than her dinghy: Barebone knew that.

But he also knew that he could handle an open boat as few even on the Cotes-du-Nord knew how.
If the breeze came strong, it would blow the fog-bank away, and Barebone had need of its covert.

Though there must be many English boats within sight should the fog lift--indeed, the guardship in Harwich harbour would be almost visible across the spit of land where Landguard Fort lies hidden--Barebone had no intention of asking help so compromising.
He had but a queer story to tell to any in authority, and on the face of it he must perforce appear to have run away with the dinghy of the "Petite Jeanne." He desired to get ashore as unobtrusively as possible.

For he was not going to stay in England.