Had she been steered, of course she would have left us astern without hope; but as we chased her now, the unsteady flaws of the rising breeze, which we could make full use of, rather hindered her.

Now and again, with some little shift, her sail flapped and she lost her way, and yawed so that we gained on her fast, while a new hope of success sprang up in our minds.

Then the sail would fill again, and she was away from us.
Once, as the breeze veered a point or two, I thought she must have jibed, for the clew of the sail almost swung inboard; but it filled again.
"She cannot jibe," said Bertric.

"See, her yard is braced square for running, and cannot shift.

If all holds, she must run till doomsday thus.