The breeze had dropped as the tide ebbed, and _Red Rose_ plunged languidly across the shining swell. Faint mist obscured the horizon and the yachts engaged in the fifty-mile race had vanished, although Wyndham thought he had not long since distinguished a sail in the distance. He was curious about this because if he had seen canvas it was _Deva_'s, and her skipper had probably seen _Red Rose_. The rest of the fleet was scattered about to the north. Wyndham had noted their positions carefully before the haze rolled up. He wanted to win and meant to leave nothing to chance. In the meantime, the yacht crept slowly through the sparkling water, close-hauled to a light wind that Wyndham knew woul…
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