ad intelligence in her eyes, made for
it, swirled, fluttered like a bird, felt with her claws for the ground
underneath, found it, gripped it, swayed, hung on, and at last settled
gently in her place. There was no more jar to the whole thing than if
she had been a cat-boat in a summer breeze. "Pretty, pretty, pretty,"
you could hear the gang along our rail.

"They talk about knockabout racing craft," said Clancy, "but did
y'ever see anything drop to a berth slicker than that? And that's a
vessel you c'n go to sea in, and in the hardest winter gale that ever
blew you c'n turn in when your watch is done and have a feeling of
comfort."

"Where's the steam trawler, the porgy boat, we saw yesterday?"

"Put into Chincoteague most likely--nearer than here."

"That's what we'll have to come to yet--steamers, and go on wages like
a waiter in a hotel."

"Yes," said Clancy, "I s'pose so, but with vessels like we got and the
seamen sailing out of Gloucester we'll stave 'em off a long time yet,
and even as it is, give me a breeze and a vessel like this one under
us and we'll beat out all the steam fishermen that ever turned a
screw."

One of the latest experiments in a fishermen's model reached in then
and her coming started a chorus. They were always trying new models in
Gloucester, everybody was so anxious to have a winner. This one's
sails were still white and pretty and her hull still shiny in fresh
black paint. The red stripe along her rail and the gold stripe along
her run set off her lines; her gear didn't have a speck on it, her
spars were yellow as could be and to leeward we thought we could still
smell the patent varnish. For that matter there were several there as
new-looking as she was, our own vessel for one; but there had been a
lot of talk about this one. She was going to clean out the fleet. She
had been pretending to a lot, and as she hadn't yet made good, of
course she got a great raking.

"She's here at last, boys--the yacht, the wonderful, marvellous
Victory! Ain't she a bird? Built to beat the fleet! Look at the
knockabout bow of her!"

"Knockabout googleums--h-yah! Scoop shovel snout and a stern ugly as a
battle-ship's, and the Lord knows there was overhang and to spare to
tail her out decent. Cut out the yellow and the red and the whole lot
of gold decorations and she's as homely as a Newf'undland jack."

"Just the same, she c'n sail," said somebody who wanted to start an
argument.

"Sail! Yah! m