“Pull down the mainsail,” shouted Bevis, stumbling forward. “Hold tight,” shouted Mark, giving a great shove with the scull. The boat came off, and Bevis was thrown down on the ballast. The wind took her before they could scramble into their places, and she drifted across the mouth of the Nile and grounded again. “Down with the sail, I tell you,” shouted Bevis in a rage. “Not that one--the big one.” Mark undid the cord or halyard, and down fell the mainsail into the boat, covering Bevis, who had to get out from under it before he could do anything. “Did you ever see such a bother?” said Mark. “Is anything broken?” said Bevis. “No. You ought to have tacked sooner.” “How could I tell? She wouldn’t come round.” “You ought to have had room to try twice.” “So we will next time.” “Let’s go up the Nile and turn round, and get the sails up there,” said Mark. “It will be such a flapping here.” Bevis agreed, and they pushed the boat along with the sculls a few yards up the Nile which was quite smooth there, while at the mouth the quick wavelets dashed against the shore. The bank of the river and the trees on it sheltered them while they turned the boat’s head round, and carefully set the sails for another trial. “We’ll have two tries this time,” said Bevis, “and we’re sure to do it. If we can’t tack, it’s no use sailing.” When everything was ready, Mark rowed a few strokes with one oar till the wind began to fill the sails; then he shipped it, and sat down on the ballast on the windward side. The moment she was outside the Nile the splashing began, and Mark, to his great delight, felt a little spray in his face. “This is real sailing,” he said. “Now we’re going,” said Bevis, as the boat increased her speed. “Lot’s see how much we can gain on this tack.” He kept her as close to the wind as he could, but so as still to have the sails well filled and drawing. He let the mainsail hollow out somewhat, thinking that it would hold the wind more and draw them faster. “Hurrah!” said Mark; “we’re getting a good way up; there’s the big sarsen--we shall get up to it.” There was a large sarsen or boulder, a great brown stone, lying on the shore on the quarry side of the gulf, about thirty yards above the bathing-place. If they could get as high up as the boulder, that would mean that in crossing the gulf on that tack they had gained thirty yards in direct course, thirty yards against the wind. To Mark it looked as if they were sailing straight for the boulder, but the boat was not really going in the exact direction her bow pointed.