It's pressing her bows under now." "She will go almost as fast without it," the skipper said.
The commander of the cutter seemed to be of the same opinion, for, just as he spoke, the topsail was seen to flutter, and then descended to the deck.

It was a quarter of an hour before the skipper spoke again.
"I think we just about hold our own," he said.

"I didn't think the Polly could have held her running." "She couldn't, in a light wind," the mate replied; "but with this wind, it will want a fast boat to beat her." The hands were now set to work, shifting the kegs further aft.
"That's better," the skipper said presently.

"I am sure we are gaining ground, and our masts will stand it, if the cutter's will." With her stern low in the water, the lugger was now tearing along at a tremendous pace.

Stout as were her masts, and strong the stays, James Walsham wondered at their standing the strain of the great brown sails, as they seemed, at times, almost to lift her bodily out of the water.
Buoyant as the craft was, the waves broke over her bows and flooded her decks, and sheets of spray flew over her.
The cutter, with her sharper bows and all her sail forward, was feeling it still more severely, and the spirits of all on board the lugger rose rapidly, as it was evident that they were dropping their pursuers.
Suddenly, the gaff of the cutter's mainsail was seen to droop, and the boom was hauled on board.
"I thought it would be too much for them," the skipper said exultantly.
"They are going to reef." "We had better reef down too, I think," the mate said.