XXXIV
MINNIE ARKELL ONCE MORE
We were hardly across the line when there was a broom at our truck––a new broom that I know I, for one, never saw before. And yet I suppose every vessel that sailed in the race that day had a new broom hid away somewhere below––to be handy if needed.
But it was the Johnnie Duncan, sailing up the harbor, that carried hers to the truck. And it was Mr. Duncan who stood aft of her and took most of the cheers, and it was Clancy and Long Steve who waved their hands from the wheel-box, and it was the skipper who leaned against the weather rigging, and the rest of us who lined the weather rail and answered the foolish questions of people along the road.
Every vessel we met seemed to think we had done something great; and I suppose we had in a way––that is, skipper, crew and vessel. We had out-carried and out-sailed the best out of Gloucester in a breeze that was a breeze. We had taken the chance of being capsized or hove-down and 266 losing the vessel and ourselves. Mr. Duncan, I think, realized more than anybody else at the time what we had been through. “I didn’t know what it really was to be,” he said, “before I started. If I had, I doubt very much if I’d have started.” We all said––“No, no, you’d have gone just the same, Mr. Duncan;” and we believed he would, too.
Going up the harbor somebody hinted to Clancy that he ought to go and have a mug-up for himself after his hard work––and it had been hard work. “And I’ll take your place at the wheel,” said that somebody, “for you must be tired, Tommie.”
“And maybe I am tired, too,” answered Clancy, “but if I am, I’m just thick enough not to know it. But don’t fool yourself that if I stood lashed to this wheel since she crossed the starting line this morning I’m going to quit it now and let you take her up the harbor and get all the bouquets. I’ll have a mug-up by and by, and it’ll be a mug-up, don’t you worry.”
And it was a mug-up. He took the gold and silver cup given to Maurice as a skipper of the winning vessel, and with the crew in his wake headed a course for the Anchorage, where he filled it till it flowed––and didn’t have to pay for filling it, either.
“It’s the swellest growler that I ever expect to empty. Gold and silver––and holds six quarts 267 level. Just a little touch all round, and we’ll fill her up again. ‘Carte blanche, and charge it to me,’ says Mr. Duncan.”