The men whistled, stamped the deck impatiently, and cast anxious glances back at the cutter.
"She is walking along fast," the skipper said, as he examined her through a glass.

"She has got the wind steady, and must be slipping along at six knots an hour.

This is hard luck on us.

If we don't get the breeze soon, it will be a close thing of it." Another quarter of an hour passed without a breath of wind ruffling the water.

The cutter was fully two miles nearer to them than when she had first been seen, and was holding the wind steadily.
"Here it comes, lads," the skipper said cheerfully.