he chances were ten to one
that the wind would not be strong enough to call for the heavy ballast
they carried. Fishermen, of course, are built to be at their best when
wind and sea are doing their worst, and so the taking out of ballast
for a September race looked like good judgment. So about forty tons of
ballast were taken out of most of them--the Lucy Foster, the Withrow,
the Nannie O, and half a dozen others.

That looked all right, but on Tuesday night an easterly gale set in,
the wind blowing forty-odd miles an hour. All day Wednesday it blew,
and all day Thursday even harder, with a promise of blowing harder
still on Friday, which was to be the day of the race. The people of
Gloucester who had been praying for wind, "Wind for a fisherman's
race--wind--wind," seemed likely to get what they wanted.

On Thursday I saw Tommie Ohlsen and Wesley Marrs in conference on the
street. Wesley had his nose up in the air, sniffing the breeze. He
shook his head with, "Tommie, I ought to've let the ballast stay in
the Lucy. It looks like it's going to be the devil's own breeze for
vessels that ain't prepared for it."

"Yes," said Ohlsen, "wind fifty-two mile an hour the weather man says,
and still making. That's bad for light ballast and whole sail. If we
could only put the ballast back----"

"Yes--if we could. But we can't put it back now--there ain't time to
do it right and everybody would laugh at us too. And besides, if we
did, all the others would put it back, and where's the difference?"

"Of course," said Tommie, "but if all of us would put it back it would
make a better race."

In view of the reputation of Wesley Marrs and Ohlsen and O'Donnell and
their vessels, we could not understand the confidence of Withrow and
his people in Sam Hollis. He had a great vessel--nobody doubted it.
But it was doubted by many if she was the equal of some of the others,
and few believed she was better. And Sam Hollis was not the man to
carry the sail, or at least the fishermen of Gloucester generally did
not think so. But Withrow and Hollis's gang kept on bragging and they
backed their bragging up, too. I drew what money I had saved that
summer out of my seining share--two hundred and twenty-five
dollars--and bet it myself with one of the Withrow's crew that the
Johnnie Duncan would beat the Withrow, whether the Johnnie was home to
race or not. It was really betting against Withrow himself, who, it
was said, was taking up every bet