SIR THOMAS WAS WON.
“Sir Thomas,” I said, “I can’t say I hope she will win, but I hope she will come so close to it that she will turn us all green with envy!”
“Ah, my boy, that’s the spirit,” he said; “that’s why it’s a pleasure to race against you Americans. You meet a fellow more than half way.”
The “Erin” is no less beautiful than the racer. With the “Shamrock’s” pennant at the foremast and the Stars and Stripes flying from the after-pole, she is a model. Commodore Morgan says she is one of the three finest ocean-going yachts in the world. The Prince and Princess of Wales visited her often, and gave signed photographs of themselves to hang in the elegant cabin. Admiral Dewey’s likeness hangs near the “Columbia’s.” The appointments of the yacht are worthy of the Waldorf-Astoria. Sir Thomas never leaves her, he told me, except to go aboard the “Shamrock.” I could not blame him. Finding a pair of upholstered steamer chairs forward, we dropped into them.
The conversation drifted into the early struggles of the baronet, to the days when he did not own a floating palace or an international cup challenger.