He was undeniably smarter than I when it came to manoeuvring. Time
after time I all but had him, and each time he tricked me and
escaped. Besides, the wind was freshening, constantly, and each of
us had his hands full to avoid capsizing. As for my boat, it could
not have been kept afloat but for the extra ballast. I sat cocked
over the weather gunwale, tiller in one hand and sheet in the
other; and the sheet, with a single turn around a pin, I was very
often forced to let go in the severer puffs. This allowed the sail
to spill the wind, which was equivalent to taking off so much
driving power, and of course I lost ground. My consolation was
that Demetrios was as often compelled to do the same thing.

The strong ebb-tide, racing down the Straits in the teeth of the
wind, caused an unusually heavy and spiteful sea, which dashed
aboard continually. I was dripping wet, and even the sail was wet
half-way up the after leech. Once I did succeed in outmanoeuvring
Demetrios, so that my bow bumped into him amidships. Here was
where I should have had another man. Before I could run forward
and leap aboard, he shoved the boats apart with an oar, laughing
mockingly in my face as he did so.

We were now at the mouth of the Straits, in a bad stretch of water.
Here the Vallejo Straits and the Carquinez Straits rushed directly
at each other. Through the first flowed all the water of Napa
River and the great tide-lands; through the second flowed all the
water of Suisun Bay and the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers. And
where such immense bodies of water, flowing swiftly, clashed
together, a terrible tide-rip was produced. To make it worse, the
wind howled up San Pablo Bay for fifteen miles and drove in a
tremendous sea upon the tide-rip.