s."

The "Bertha Millner" veered round and played off to the wind, tugging at
her anchor.

"Man y'r windlass."

Wilbur and the crew jumped once more to the brakes.

"Brake down, heave y'r anchor to the cathead."

The anchor-chain, already taut, vibrated and then cranked through the
hawse-holes as the hands rose and fell at the brakes. The anchor came
home, dripping gray slime. A nor'west wind filled the schooner's sails,
a strong ebb tide caught her underfoot.

"We're off," muttered Wilbur, as the "Bertha Millner" heeled to the
first gust.

But evidently the schooner was not bound up the bay.

"Must be Vallejo or Benicia, then," hazarded Wilbur, as the sails grew
tenser and the water rippled ever louder under the schooner's forefoot.
"Maybe they're going after hay or wheat."

The schooner was tacking, headed directly for Meiggs's wharf. She came
in closer and closer, so close that Wilbur could hear the talk of the
fishermen sitting on the stringpieces. He had just made up his mind that
they were to make a landing there, when--

"Stand by for stays," came the raucous bark of the Captain, who had
taken on the heel. The sails slatted furiously as the schooner came
about. Then the "Bertha Millner" caught the wind again and lay over
quietly and contentedly to her work. The next tack brought the schooner
close under Alcatraz. The sea became heavier, the breeze grew stiff and
smelled of the outside ocean. Out beyond them to westward opened
the Golden Gate, a bleak vista of gray-green water roughened with
white-caps.

"Stand by for stays."

Once again as the rudder went hard over, the "Bertha Millner" fretted
and danced and shook her sails, calling impatiently for the wind,
chafing at its absence like a child reft of a toy. Then again she
scooped the nor'wester in the hollow palms of her tense canvases and
settled quietly down on the new tack, her bowsprit pointing straight
toward the Presidio.

"We'll come about again soon," Wilbur told himself, "and stand over
toward the Contra Costa shore."

A fine huge breath of wind passed over the schooner. She heeled it
on the instant, the water roaring along her quarter, but she kept her
course. Wilbur fell thoughtful again, never more keenly observant.

"She must come about soon," he muttered uneasily, "if she's going to
stand up toward Vallejo." His heart sank with a sudden apprehension. A
nervousness he could not overcome seized upon him. The "Bertha Millner"
hel