In a few moments a sudden filling of the sails announced that they had caught the breeze.  The oars were drawn in, and every sheet hauled taut, and, when they rounded the head of the island, not one of the squadron was in sight.

“I expected,” said Harry, speaking in a loud voice, so that the others could hear, “that they would feel the wind long before this.”

“Even if they had,” answered Frank, “we could have beaten them easily enough.  You see, when they come around the foot of the island, they will be some distance below the long dock, and the current will carry them still further down, while we are above it, and can sail right down to it.  Here they come!”

The boys looked down the river, and saw the men-o’-war rapidly following each other around the foot of the island.

“I guess they have discovered their mistake before this time,” said William.  “Now,” he continued, as he drew his mainsail down a little closer “the Champion is going to be the first to sail into the creek.”

“That’s the game, is it?” said Frank.  “Ben, perch yourself up on the windward side, and we’ll see which is the best boat.”

Ben did as he was desired, and the little vessels increased their speed, and bounded over the gentle swells as if some of their crews’ spirit had been infused into them.  They had started nearly even—­the Alert and Champion being a little in advance of the Speedwell—­and the boys knew that the race was to be a fair trial of the speed of their boats.  The Alert and Speedwell had never been “matched” before, and the boys were anxious to learn their comparative speed.  The former was the “champion” boat of the village, and Harry and George were confident that Frank’s “tub,” as they jokingly called it, would soon be distanced.  Frank thought so, too; but the reputation of owning the swiftest boat in the village was well worth trying for, and he determined to do his best.

Since his race with the Champion, he had made larger sails for his boat, and added a flying-jib and a gaff-topsail, and he found that her speed was almost doubled.

The Champion soon fell behind, and the two rival boats were left to finish the race, which, for a long time, seemed undecided.  But, at length, the Speedwell, with her strong mast groaning and creaking under the weight of the heavy canvas, began to gain steadily, and soon passed the Alert.  Ten minutes’ run brought them across the river; and when Frank, proud of the victory he had gained, rounded the long dock, the Alert was full four rods behind.

The breeze was rapidly dying away, and not one of the coast-guards had yet reached the shore.  Some of them had been carried almost a mile below the creek, and lay with the sails idly flapping against the masts.

Frank and Ben sailed slowly along up the creek, and, when they arrived at the end of the dock, the Speedwell was “made fast,” and the boys started to get their mail.