They were now east of the Azores, and within four days' run of Gibraltar, which was their first halting-place. So the men were set to work to scrub the deck, polish the rails, new paint the boats, mend such of the signal flags as were torn, and "smarten" up the vessel generally; for a sea-captain is as proud of his ship as a lands-man of his wife, and likes to bring her into port as trim as possible.
Frank, always ready to be of use, took his share of the work, though he had plenty to occupy him without it. He was never tired of watching the sun make rainbows in the spray of the bow, and the pretty little sea-fairies, called by sailors "Portuguese men-of-war," float past with their tinted shells and outspread feelers; while at night the moon was so gloriously brilliant, and the sea so clear and smooth, that he often staid on deck till midnight to enjoy the spectacle. But another sight was in store for him, even more to his taste than these.
One evening, just before sunset, two sail (the first for several days) were descried by the look-out, quite close to each other. Herrick, after eying them keenly for a moment, pronounced them to be a British steamer and a full-rigged American clipper ship.
"How on earth can you tell that?" asked the wondering Frank, who could see nothing of the strangers but their topmasts.
"Easy enough. That un's a steamer, by her smoke; and she's a Britisher, by the look o' the smoke, for they mostly burn soft coal. T'other's a clipper, by her rig, and the lot o' handkerchiefs [studding sails] she has aloft; and she's a 'Merican, for nothin' else could hold its own with a steamer. But what can they be doin' so close together? Ah! I've got it—they're a-racin'."
AN OCEAN RACE.
When the two vessels came near enough to be signaled, and to reply, Herrick was found to be right in every particular, and the excitement aboard the Arizona rose to a height. The captain himself came out to watch the race, and every man who was not on duty below hastened on deck.
"See how Johnny Bull's a-pilin' the coal on!" cried old Herrick, pointing to the eddying smoke, which grew blacker every minute. "But he don't whip that craft—not much! Canvas agin tea-kettles any day! Hooray!"
"Right you air, old hoss! Guess some o' them clippers can show as good a record as any steamer afloat. Why, didn't the old Nabob run 7389 miles in thirty days out thar in the Indian Ocean?—and that's 246 miles a day for a whole month, anyhow."