“Sure and I was. And better before the race than in the race. And next day––that’s to-day––we spent putting in a new stick. I had to take what I could get to save time, and I don’t think it’s what it ought to be and maybe it won’t last through to-morrow. But, anyway, you want to have an eye out for the Colleen to-morrow, for I’m telling you I never see her sail like she did yesterday coming across the Bay. Ask Tom Lowrie next time you see him. Well, to-night I had to beat down here to be sure and be here in time, and so out we put––and here I am. Blowing? Indeed and it is. And thick, is it? Standing on her knight-heads and looking aft you c’d no more than make out her side-lights. We came along, and Boston inner and outer harbor crowded with vessels, steamers and sail, waiting for it to moderate so they c’d put out. A blessed wonder it was we didn’t sink somebody––or ourselves. Outside we went along by smell, I think, for only every once in awhile could we see a light. One time we almost ran into something––a fisherman it must have been, for I s’pose only a fisherman would be going in on a night like this––out of a squall of snow and blackness she came––man alive! but, whoever she was, she was coming a great clip. Winged out and we didn’t see her till the end of 223 her bowsprit caught the end of our main-boom––hauled in we were to two blocks––and over we went on the other tack––yes, sir, over on the other tack. Thinks I, ‘’Tis a new way to jibe a vessel over.’ And the end of her fore-boom all but swept me from beside the wheel and over the rail as she went by––she was that close. And I sings out to her, ‘Won’t you leave us your name so I can thank you next time we meet?’ but Lord, not a word out of him. He kept on to Boston, I suppose, and we kept on to Gloucester, and here I am.”
“And the Colleen, Tom––she’s all right?”
“Right, man? Watch her to-morrow. Barring that forem’st being too light––but whoever looked for a breeze like this?––two days and three nights now and blowing harder all the time. But never mind, she’ll make great going of it to-morrow. Divil take it, but we’ll all make great going of it. Tommie, dear, what’s in the bowl? Milk? Man, but don’t be telling me things like that––and the one thing the doctors warn me against is heart-trouble. Ah, milk-punch––that’s better, man. A wee droppeen. Look at it––the color of the tip of a comber in twelve fathom of water and a cross-tide. Well, here’s to every mother’s son of us that’s going to race to-morrow. May ye all win if the Colleen don’t––all but you, Sam Hollis. But where’s he gone––into the other room? Well, if 224 he was here ’twould be the same. He’s got a vessel that can sail. Let him sail her to-morrow and win, if it’s in her––or in him. But a thousand dollars––and outside my house and vessel, Lord knows, it’s all the money I’ve got in the world––beyond my house and vessel––a thousand dollars the Colleen beats the Withrow. Hello, there––what d’y’say, Sam Hollis––the Colleen and the Withrow––a thousand dollars, boat for boat. But where the divil is he? Gone? Are you sure? Gone! But a queer time to leave a party––just when it’s getting to be real sociable.”
“Never mind the betting now, Tom,” spoke up Wesley Marrs. “Let the owners have that to themselves. And according to accounts some of them are having it. Fred Withrow and old Duncan are ready to go broke over the race to-morrow. Whichever loses, he’ll remember this race, I’m thinking. Here’s hoping it won’t be Duncan. So to the devil with the betting, Tom. Some of us have bet all we could afford––some of us more than we could afford, I callate. Let’s have a song instead, Tom.”
“Anything to please you, Wesley,” and O’Donnell began to sing. He started off first with his
“Oh, seiners all and trawlers all,”
but Alec McNeill and Patsie Oddie interrupted. 225 “Oh, give us the other one, Tom––the Newf’undland and Cape Shore Men.”
“Ha!” laughed O’Donnell, “it’s the mention of your own you want––you and Patsie there. Well, it’s all one to me. Any man from any place, so long as he’s a fair man and a brave man, and Lord knows ye’re both that. Well, here’s to you both––a wee drop just, Tommie––easy––easy,” and he began:
“Oh, Newf’undland and Cape Shore men, and men of Gloucester town,
With ye I’ve trawled o’er many banks and sailed the compass roun’;