hondda_ (for had we not, time and again, shown them our stern on the
long pull from Green St. to the outer anchorage?), but the Germans were
different. Try as we might, we could never pull off a spurt with them.
No one knew for certain what they could do, only old Schenke, their
skipper, and he held his tongue wisely.

The _James Flint_ came around the bend, and our eager eyes followed her
as she steered after the tug. She was making for the outer anchorage,
where the laden ships lie in readiness for a good start off.

"Th' wind's 'bout west outside," said Jones. "A 'dead muzzler'!
She'll not put t' sea tonight, even if she has all her 'crowd' aboard."

"No, worse luck! mebbe she'll lie over till Saturday after all. They
say Bully's dead set on getting th' Cup. He might hang back. . . .
Some excuse--short-handed or something!" Gregson was the one for
"croaking."

"No hands?" said Fatty. "Huh! How could he be short-handed when
everybody knows that Daly's boardin'-house is chock-full of fightin'
Dutchmen? No, no! It'll be the sack for Mister Bully B. Nathan if he
lets a capful o' fair wind go by and his anchor down. Gracie's agents
'll watch that!"

"Well! He's here for th' night, anyway. . . . There goes her mudhook!"

We watched her great anchor go hurtling from the bows and heard the
roar of chain cable as she paid out and swung round to the tide.

"Come roun', yo' boys dere! Yo' doan' want no tea, eh?" The nigger
cook, beating tattoo on a saucepan lid, called us back to affairs of
the moment, and we sat down to our scanty meal in high spirits,
talking--all at one time--of our chances of the Cup.

The _Hilda_ had been three months at San Francisco, waiting for the
wheat crop and a profitable charter. We had come up from Australia,
and most of our crew, having little wages due to them, had deserted
soon after our arrival. Only we apprentices and the sail-maker
remained, and we had work enough to set our muscles up in the heavy
harbour jobs. Trimming coal and shovelling ballast may not be
scientific training, but it is grand work for the back and shoulders.

We were in good trim for rowing. The old man had given us every
opportunity, and nothing he could do was wanting to make us fit. Day
and daily we had set our stroke up by the long pull from the anchorage
to the wharves, old Burke coaching and encouraging, checking and
speeding us, till we worked well together. Only last Sunday he had
ta