“Go about sharp!” snapped out the captain of the pirate boat, pushing his tiller from him and throwing his weight upon it. His first officer pulled the sail close over the deck, the wind caught it fairly, and almost before the spectators were aware of it, the pirate boat had gone about and was speeding away on another tack. The revenue officers were not prepared for this. They naturally thought the pirates would run as close to the shore as they possibly could before they tacked, and were aiming for the point at which they calculated their opponents would go about, just as did the officers in the first race. Seeing this, and not wishing to sail too close to them, the pirates had gone about much farther from the shore than was needful. In order to follow them the revenue officers were now forced to come about and tack, which, going before the wind as they were, they found less easy. The sudden change in their opponents’ tactics puzzled them, and one of the two boys bungled. On future occasions each confidentially informed his friends that it was the other who was responsible; but, however that may have been, the boat missed stays, her sail flapped weakly in the breeze, and, while the crew were vigorously trying to set her in the wind by lashing the water with her rudder, the pirate boat was off and away, one hundred yards to the good, and the remainder of the race was a procession of two boats with the pirates easily in the lead. And now came the final struggle. Now came the momentous “rubber,” which was to plunge Chadwick’s into gloom, or keep them still the champions of the river. The appetites of both were whetted for victory by the single triumph each had already won, and their representatives felt that, for them, success or a watery grave were the alternatives. The Atlantic House boat, the _Wave_, and the boat upon which the Chadwick’s hopes were set, the _Rover_, were evenly matched, their crews were composed of equally good sailors, and each was determined to tow the other ignominiously into port. The two Prescotts watched the _Wave_ critically and admiringly, as she came toward them with her crew perched on her side and the water showing white under her bow. “They’re coming entirely too fast to suit me,” said the elder Prescott. “I want more room, and I have a plan to get it. Stand ready to go about.” The younger brother stood ready to go about, keeping the _Rover_ on her first tack until she was clear of the island’s high banks and had the full sweep of the wind; then, to the surprise of her pursuers and the bewilderment of the spectators, she went smartly about, and turning her bow directly away from the goal, started before the wind back past the island and toward the wide stretch of river on the upper side. “What’s your man doing that for?” excitedly asked one of the Atlantic House people, of the prisoners-of-war.