For days there was nothing to choose between the vessels, save that the unusual strength of the Trades gave the Star a trifling advantage. Every night Watchett took in his royals. This Ryder declined to do, though he often expected them to take themselves in.
'What did I say, ma'am,' said old Bagge. 'I told you it could blow quite 'eavy in its way in the South-East Trades.'
And thus it happened that what the Star lost by day she pulled up by night. And presently the Battle-Axe edged up closer, and at last was within hailing distance. Watchett stood on his poop with a speaking-trumpet, and roared in sombre triumph.
'I'm as good as you this trip on your best p'int, Ryder!'
'Tell him to go to—to—thunder,' said Mrs. Ryder angrily. Nevertheless, she waved her handkerchief to her enemy's wife, who was standing by 'plain Jack Watchett.'
'You've done mighty well,' said Ryder in his turn, 'but it isn't over yet.'
Jack Watchett intimated that he thought it was. He offered to double the bet. He also undertook to sail round the Star of the South in a light wind. He offered to tow her, and made himself so disagreeable that Mrs. Ryder, who knew what became a lady, went below to prevent herself snatching the speaking-trumpet from her husband and saying things for which she would be sorry afterwards. But Ryder, though he was by no means a saint, kept his temper, and only replied with chaff, which was much more offensive to Watchett than bad language.
'And don't be too sure,' he added. 'I may do you yet.'
'Not you,' said Watchett, 'I'm cocksure.'
They sailed in company for a week, and gradually as the Trade lessened in driving power the Battle-Axe drew ahead inch by inch. And as she did Mrs. Ryder's appetite failed; she looked thin and ill.