ut
which didn't seem to fit in here. Her passengers were mostly
fishermen--crews of vessels not in the race. There was also a big
powerful iron sea-tug, the Tocsin, that promised to make better
weather of it than any of the others.

Billie Simms was one of the men who were not going in the race but
intended to see some of it. He was in the Henry Clay Parker, a
fine-looking vessel that was not so very fast, but had the reputation
of being wonderfully stiff. Coming out past Eastern Point lighthouse,
where he could begin to get a look at things, Billie hollered out that
he was sorry he hadn't entered. "Looks to me like the vessel that'll
stay right side up the longest ought to win this race, and that's the
Henry C." He hauled her across our stern while he was yelling and I
remember she took one roll down to her sheer poles when passing on,
and Maurice sang out, "Look out, Billie, or you'll capsize her."

"Capsize this one? Lord, Maurice, I've tried it a dozen times and I'm
damned if I could," and he went rolling on like nothing I ever saw,
unless it was the rest of us who were then manoeuvring for the start.
We passed the Parker again before we got to the line, and old Peter
Hines, who was hanging to her main-rigging, had to yell us his good
wishes. "Drive her, Maurice-boy, and whatever you do don't let the man
that took your vessel from you beat you home," meaning Sam Hollis of
course. Maurice waved his hand, but said nothing. He was looking
serious enough, however.

Tommie Clancy was the boy who wasn't worrying particularly. He saluted
Peter as if he were going out on a holiday excursion. "Ain't she a
dog, Peter? Watch her."

"That's what she is--and drive her, Tommie--drive her."

"Oh, we'll drive her, Peter," called back Tommie, and began:

"Oh, I love old Ocean's smile,
I love old Ocean's frowning--
I love old Ocean all the while,
My prayer's for death by drowning."

"Let you alone, Tommie, and you'll get your prayer some day," was
Peter's last hail as we straightened out for the swoop across the
line.

Clancy was to the wheel then with the skipper. Both were lashed and we
had life-lines around deck. To the wheel of every vessel in the fleet
were two men lashed, and they all had life-lines around deck.

In crossing the line there was no attempt at jockeying such as one
often sees in yacht racing. There was no disposition on the part of
any skipper to do anything that would set anybody