the mean time, the brig had passed beyond the influence of the
bluff, and was beginning to feel a stronger breeze, that was coming
down the wide opening of Flushing Bay. As the tide still continued
strong in her favour, and her motion through the water was getting
to be four or five knots, there was every prospect of her soon
reaching Whitestone, the point where the tides meet, and where it
would become necessary to anchor; unless, indeed, the wind, which
was now getting to the southward and eastward, should come round
more to the south. All this Spike and his mate discussed together,
while the people were clearing the decks, and making the
preparations that are customary on board a vessel before she gets
into rough water.

By this time it was ascertained that the brig had received no damage
by her salute of the Pot Rock, and every trace of uneasiness on that
account was removed. But Spike kept harping on the boat, and "the
pilot-looking chap who was in her." As they passed Riker's Island,
all hands expected a boat would put off with a pilot, or to demand
pilotage; but none came, and the Swash now seemed released from all
her present dangers, unless some might still be connected with the
revenue steamer. To retard her advance, however, the wind came out a
smart working breeze from the southward and eastward, compelling her
to make "long legs and short ones" on her way towards Whitestone.

"This is beating the wind, Rosy dear," said Mrs. Budd, complacently,
she and her niece having returned to the deck a few minutes after
this change had taken place. "Your respected uncle did a great deal
of this in his time, and was very successful in it. I have heard him
say, that in one of his voyages between Liverpool and New York, he
beat the wind by a whole fortnight, everybody talking of it in the