CONCLUSION
The jackies of the battleship set up a great cheer.
Coxswain Davis and the eleven men of his racing crew were lined up on the quarterdeck of the "Long Island." On the decks of a dozen other ships in the bay a similar spectacle might have been seen.
The great race for the silver cup was about to be run. But, now that Joe Harper was unable to guide the boat of the "Long Island," the other ships feared none save the racing crew of the "Georgia."
"Never mind if you don't win, Dynamite. You've got the pluck; you've got the sand. It won't be your fault. But make 'em hump. Make 'em work for what they get," shouted a jackie.
Dan smiled faintly. There was little color in his face, but no one was able to find a trace of nervousness there.
"If that boy had the experience, I should expect to see him win," confided an officer to his companion.
"I don't know. This putting green men in a racing boat is bad business. I hear he has put his friend Sam Hickey in as stroke oar."
"Yes."
The officer shook his head.