Now lend a hand on the main-sheet!" Together, hand over hand, they came in on the reefed mainsail.

Joe began to warm up with the work.

The _Dazzler_ turned on her heel like a race-horse, and swept into the wind, her canvas snarling and her sheets slatting like hail.
"Draw down the jib-sheet!" Joe obeyed, and, the head-sail filling, forced her off on the other tack.
This manoeuver had turned French Pete's bunk from the lee to the weather side, and rolled him out on the cabin floor, where he lay in a drunken stupor.
'Frisco Kid, with his back against the tiller and holding the sloop off that it might cover their previous course, looked at him with an expression of disgust, and muttered: "The dog! We could well go to the bottom, for all he 'd care or do!" Twice they tacked, trying to go over the same ground; and then Joe discovered the skiff bobbing to windward in the star-lit darkness.
"Plenty of time," 'Frisco Kid cautioned, shooting the _Dazzler_ into the wind toward it and gradually losing headway.

"Now!" Joe leaned over the side, grasped the trailing painter, and made it fast to the bitt.

Then they tacked ship again and started on their way.