Mark took the foresail down, and the boat did show some disposition to run up into the wind; but when Bevis tried to tack she went half-way, and then payed off and came back, and they nearly ran on the railings, so much did they drift. Still they tried without the foresail again; the boat they found did not sail so fast, and it was not the least use, she would not come round. So they re-set the foresail. Again and again they sailed to and fro, from the shore just above the Nile to the bunch of rushes, and never gained a foot, or if they did one way they lost it the other. They were silent for some time. “It’s like the Bay of Biscay,” said Mark. “‘There she lay, all the day, In the Bay of Biscay, O!’ “And the sails look so jolly too.” “I can’t make it out,” said Bevis. “The sails are all proper, I’m sure they are. What can it be? We shall never get out of the gulf.” “And after all the rowing round too,” said Mark. “Lubberly.” “Horrid,” said Bevis. “I hope there’s no other ship about looking at us. The sailors would laugh so. I know--Mark!” “Yes.” “Don’t row next time; we’ll wear ship.” “What’s that?” “Turn the other way--with the wind. Very often the boom knocks you over or tears the mast out.” “Capital, only we’ve no boom. What must I do?” “Nothing; you’ll see. Sit still--in the middle. Now.” Bevis put the tiller over to windward. The boat paid off rapidly to leeward, and described a circle, the mainsail passing over to the opposite side, and as it took the wind giving a jerk to the mast. Mark tightened the other foresheet, and they began to sail back again. “But just look!” said he. “Horrid,” said Bevis. In describing the circle they had lost not only what they had gained, but were level with the mouth of the Nile, and not five yards from the shore at the head of the gulf. It was as much this tack as they could do to get above the railings; they were fifteen yards at least below the rushes, when Bevis put the tiller up to windward, and tried the same thing again. The boat turned a circle to leeward, and before she could get right round and begin to sail again, they had gone so near the shore, drifting, that Mark had to put out the scull in case they should bump. In crossing this time the wind blew so light that they could not get above the mouth of the Nile. “It’s no use wearing ship,” said Mark. “Not a bit; we lose more than ever. You’d better row again,” said Bevis reluctantly. Mark pulled her round again, and they sailed to and fro three times more, but did but keep their position, for the wind was perceptibly less as the day went on, and it became near noon. “I hate those rushes,” said Mark, as he pulled her head round once more. Bevis did not reply, but this time he steered straight across to the Nile and up it till the bank sheltered them from the wind. There they took down the sails, quite beaten, for that day at least, and rowed back to harbour.