er and took
most of the cheers, and it was Clancy and Long Steve who waved their
hands from the wheel-box, and it was the skipper who leaned against
the weather rigging, and the rest of us who lined the weather rail and
answered the foolish questions of people along the road.

Every vessel we met seemed to think we had done something great; and I
suppose we had in a way--that is, skipper, crew and vessel. We had
out-carried and out-sailed the best out of Gloucester in a breeze that
was a breeze. We had taken the chance of being capsized or hove-down
and losing the vessel and ourselves. Mr. Duncan, I think, realized
more than anybody else at the time what we had been through. "I didn't
know what it really was to be," he said, "before I started. If I had,
I doubt very much if I'd have started." We all said--"No, no, you'd
have gone just the same, Mr. Duncan;" and we believed he would, too.

Going up the harbor somebody hinted to Clancy that he ought to go and
have a mug-up for himself after his hard work--and it had been hard
work. "And I'll take your place at the wheel," said that somebody,
"for you must be tired, Tommie."

"And maybe I am tired, too," answered Clancy, "but if I am, I'm just
thick enough not to know it. But don't fool yourself that if I stood
lashed to this wheel since she crossed the starting line this morning
I'm going to quit it now and let you take her up the harbor and get
all the bouquets. I'll have a mug-up by and by, and it'll be a mug-up,
don't you worry."

And it was a mug-up. He took the gold and silver cup given to Maurice
as a skipper of the winning vessel, and with the crew in his wake
headed a course for the Anchorage, where he filled it till it
flowed--and didn't have to pay for filling it, either.

"It's the swellest growler that I ever expect to empty. Gold and
silver--and holds six quarts level. Just a little touch all round,
and we'll fill her up again. 'Carte blanche, and charge it to me,'
says Mr. Duncan."

"What kind is carte blanche, Tommie?" asked Andie Howe.

"They'll tell you behind the bar," said Clancy.

"Billie," ordered Andie, "just a little touch of carte blanche, will
you, while Clancy's talking. He's the slowest man to begin that ever I
see. Speeches--speeches--speeches, when your throat's full of
gurry--dry, salty gurry. A little touch of that carte blanche that Mr.
Duncan ordered for the crew of the Johnnie Duncan, Billie, will you?"

"Carte blanche--yes," w