Brandon and Craddock, casting off the tyers, hauled away at main and peak halliards. Heavitree and Carline ran for’ard to attach the foresail to the forestay by means of the hanks, and to run the jib out on the bowsprit ready to hoist. By the time the mainsail was set Heavitree, who was chosen for this particular work by reason of his strength, broke out the anchor and got it inboard. Simultaneously with the racing of the anchor, Mr. Grant put the helm hard-a-starboard, Brandon tended the mainsheet, while the two hands for’ard set both jib and staysail. As soon as the _Kestrel_ forged ahead, Peter and the Patrol Leader set and trimmed the mizzen. This done, all hands went quietly to their racing station and awaited orders. Now for the first time since the starting gun Peter was able to take notice of what the other competing yachts were doing. Smart though the _Kestrel’s_ crew had been in getting under way, there were two craft which had executed the manœuvre in quicker time and already had established a useful lead. One was a centre-board cutter from the Humber, a wholesome looking craft; the other, also a cutter, belonging to a Plymouth Troop. Slightly to lee’ard, and with her hands still engaged in sheeting home their canvas, was a Poole ex-fishing boat rather noted for her speed and weatherly qualities. A few yards astern was a deep-draughted Bristol pilot cutter. Apparently she had trouble with her peak-halliard blocks, and a couple of Sea Scouts were swarming aloft to set things right. All these craft were close-hauled on the starboard tack. The rest of the competitors, including two who had collided at the start, were heading towards the Bosham side of the channel. So far so well. Peter had never known the _Kestrel_ to move so fast in such a light wind. For one thing, she was no longer hampered by her dinghy. That impediment was for the present unnecessary and had been left ashore. But clean-heeled though the _Kestrel_ was, there were others who were faster. Although Mr. Grant, by keeping her “full,” got the very best out of the yacht, she could neither point so high nor travel as fast as two of the cutters. On the fore-deck of the _Kestrel_, Heavitree lay motionless, keeping well down to minimise wind-resistance. The rest of the crew stationed aft were as silent and immobile as statues. They realised that the race was not a game. It was something that required every effort of mind and body on the part of each member of the crew. Even to move about unnecessarily might mean the loss of the race, for even in a craft of the size of the _Kestrel_ it would be adversely sensitive to the alteration of “trim” should any of the crew begin “jumping about.”