d the Gulf of
St. Lawrence, and stay there until we had filled her up with salt
mackerel. We thought so, because most of the fleet had decided on
that plan and because we had been away from home since the first of
April. But no--he stayed cruising off Block Island and running them
fresh into Newport with the last half-dozen of the fleet.

Our idea of it was that the skipper wanted to go home badly enough,
but he was set on getting a big stock and didn't care what it cost
himself or us to get it. Some of us would have given a lot to be
home.

"Oh, fine blue sky and a fine blue sea
And a blue-eyed girl awaiting me,"

was how Clancy put it as he came down from aloft one afternoon and
took the wheel from me. "By the wind is it, Joe?"

"By the wind," I said--the usual word when seiners are cruising for
mackerel, and I went aloft to take his place at the mast-head. It was
a lazy watch, as the mackerel generally were not showing at this time
in the middle of the day. They seemed to prefer the early morning or
the late afternoon, or above all a dark night.

Long Steve, who came up this day to pass the time with me aloft, had
been telling me about his old home, when we both noticed the topsails
of what we knew must be the first of a fleet of big schooner yachts
racing to Newport--from New York, no doubt, on one of their ocean
races. Steve, of course, had to try to name the leader, while she was
yet miles away--seiners have wonderful eyes for vessels--and was still
at it, naming the others behind, when the next on watch relieved me
and I went below.

The first of the yachts was almost on us when I came down, and Clancy
was watching her like a hawk when he turned the wheel over to the next
man. She was as about as big as we were. We knew her well. She had
been a cup defender and afterwards changed to a schooner rig. Our
skipper was taking a nap below at this time, or we supposed he was. He
had been up nearly a week, with no more than a two-hours' sleep each
day, and so was pretty well tired. That was what made Clancy stand by
the wheel and ask if the skipper was still asleep.

"No," said the skipper himself. He had just turned out, and in his
stocking feet he came to the companionway and looked up. "What is
it?"

"Here's this big yacht crawling by on our quarter--she'll be by us
soon. I thought you wouldn't like it."

"I'll be right up. Tell the gang to sway up."

He drew on his slip-shods and came on deck. H