IT WAS an hour after noon when the Merry Amy I burst like a phantom ship out of the fog and the chase of the Good Fortune began. Two hours later it was plain that the chase could have but one ending. Black Lowther's ship was gaining. At first, while the breeze held light, she had dropped a little behind; but the Good Fortune belied her name; luck, or fate, turned persistently against her. The fog bank to the eastward, in which Falcon had hoped to lose his pursuer, lifted and disappeared, and simultaneously the breeze freshened.
The Good Fortune sailed well in any wind. She gathered speed as the breeze increased, and Lachlan, standing beside Falcon at the wheel, marvelled at her swiftness as she leaped quivering through the seas.
"I think we shall win, Captain Falcon," he said presently.
The tall man smiled sourly. "A landsman's opinion," he replied. "In light airs we could outpace her. In a stiff wind the Merry Amy is the fastest vessel on the Western Ocean."
For a while he said no more, and Lachlan, watching the ship behind, soon saw that he spoke truth. Little by little the Merry Amy was creeping up.
