That he had not seen her while standing up, was owing to the fact that her sails, instead of being white, were tanned a dull red, that blended perfectly with the colour of the distant shore line.

A bright-faced, resolute chap, somewhat younger than Cabot, but of equally sturdy build, held the tiller, and regarded with evident approval the behaviour of his speeding craft.
"We'll make it, Dave," he cried, cheerily.

"The old 'Sea Bee's' got the wings of 'em this time." "Mebbe so," growled the individual addressed, an elderly man who stood in the companionway, with his head just above the hatch, peering forward under the swelling sails.

"Mebbe so," he repeated, "and mebbe not.

Steam's hard to beat on land or water, an' we be a far cry from Pretty Harbour yet.