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Updated: May 3, 2025
By the time we were abreast of the passage, the George Noble had every stitch of her canvas on her, and was fairly "humming" along at nearly thirteen knots over the smooth water, and then when she spun into the narrow passage through which a seven-knot current was tearing, her speed became terrific, and I held my breath.
The “Farnum” now fairly leaped through the water. “Turn the light on the knockabout, now, and keep it there,” directed the submarine boy. There was a seven-knot breeze blowing. At the speed at which the submarine boat was traveling the distance was soon covered.
As soon as the mizen-top-sail was set, I braced sharp up, and brought the ship close upon the wind. This caused the Indians to wilt down like flowers under a burning sun, just as I expected; there being, by this time, a seven-knot breeze, and a smart head-sea on.
But no ship can sail fast without a fair amount of wind, and so far this breeze that had come to us was a mere breathing, just enough perhaps to waft us along at a speed of about two knots, or two and a half, maybe, whereas what I wanted was at least a seven-knot breeze, that would take us clean out of sight of our starting-point before dawn.
We sailed all night at a seven-knot clip, and in the morning the House of the Sun was still before us, and it took a few more hours of sailing to bring it abreast of us. "That island is Maui," we said, verifying by the chart. "That next island sticking out is Molokai, where the lepers are. And the island next to that is Oahu. There is Makapuu Head now. We'll be in Honolulu to-morrow.
McCoy started forward to take up his position on the bow in order to con the vessel in; but the captain gripped his arm and whirled him around. "Do it from here," he said. "That deck's not safe. What's the matter?" he demanded the next instant. "We're standing still." McCoy smiled. "You are bucking a seven-knot current, Captain," he said. "That is the way the full ebb runs out of this passage."
The wind for the previous twenty-four hours had been moderate, and steady at about east, but toward evening it became fitful, now dying away until the roll of the ship caused the canvas to flap heavily against the masts, and anon freshening up again for a few minutes, quite to a seven-knot breeze.
"They're mighty close to it, if they've shanghaied Mr. Benson and Mr. Hastings and put to sea with 'em," rejoined Eph. Then he rang for more speed. Down below, Williamson almost instantly responded. The "Farnum" now fairly leaped through the water. "Turn the light on the knockabout, now, and keep it there," directed the submarine boy. There was a seven-knot breeze blowing.
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