'What do you think of this, Readyman?' Jack smilingly inquired, as with great mounds of white foam gleaming round her bows the 'Ocean Glory' raced home in a truly surprising manner. 'We've never done such sailing before.'
'And likely never will again,' the quarter-master replied. 'I thought the "Silver Crown" could do a decent bit of scooting, but this one would beat her hollow. Just look how she cuts into everything like a knife, and she loaded to the scuppers.'
As the course was presently altered slightly to the northward, more canvas was spread. Day by day runs of nearly four hundred miles became quite common. The weather grew much warmer and less boisterous, the Falkland Islands were passed, and without incident worthy of notice the equator was again crossed for the second time that voyage; but there the ship was unfortunately delayed by want of wind. However, the hands were kept busy in getting her ready for port, the decks were holystoned fore and aft, and after that paint and tar pots became the order of the day.
Three days after crossing the line the Australian clipper was sighted crawling northward, and being so much lighter and higher in the water, she steadily drew level, and signalled her surprise at finding her rival so much ahead, but that of the 'Flying Scud' nothing had been seen.
At last the first of the north-east trade wind began to fill the canvas. The ship drew away north, and after a splendid passage of eighty-five days from San Francisco she sighted the Irish coast in the vicinity of Cape Clear. An increasing south-westerly breeze took her along in good style.
Jack Clewlin, full of delight at once again seeing the outlines of his native land rising along the horizon a-lee, could not be induced to leave his lookout perch on the fore royal yard, and was the first to hail the deck with a tremendous outburst of joy, 'Stonewell lighthouse right ahead, sir!'
Half an hour later a pilot came alongside, and for some seconds his ears tingled with the oft-repeated inquiry, 'Has the "Flying Scud" arrived?'
'No,' the man replied. 'We've been watching for her or you the last couple of days. You have won the prize.'
A hearty cheer greeted the announcement.
The 'Ocean Glory' dropped her anchor in the outer roadstead of Stonewell Harbour, and after a voyage of three years and ten months, Jack Clewlin, now a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow of twenty, completed his sea apprenticeship.