Not a word was said about a
race, but every one knew that one would be sure to come off. Every
thing was done in a hurry, and the little vessels were all afloat in a
moment. They were on the leeward side of the island--that is, the side
from the wind--and they would be obliged to get around to the opposite
side before they could use their sails.
The coast-guards shoved their boats out into the current, and allowed
themselves to float down toward the foot of the island, thinking that
course easier than pulling, against the current, up to the head of
the island.
Frank noticed this movement, and said, in a low voice, to the
smugglers,
"Don't follow them, boys. They will find themselves becalmed in less
than a quarter of an hour. The breeze is dying away. If you want to
beat them, hoist your sails, and get out your oars, and row up to the
head of the island; we can reach it before they reach the foot, and,
besides, the current will carry them further down the river than they
want to go."
The smugglers did as Frank had directed; and as they moved from the
shore, and turned up the river, one of the coast-guards called out,
"Where are you fellows going?"
"Home," answered Ben.
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