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.
Conflicting currents tore about in all directions, colliding,
forming whirlpools, sucks, and boils, and shooting up spitefully
into hollow waves which fell aboard as often from leeward as from
windward.
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