We were next to the last vessel across the starting line. The Nannie
O--we couldn't see them all--about held the Lucy Foster and the
Colleen Bawn level. The Withrow showed herself to be a wonderful
vessel off the wind, too. Wesley Marrs was around the stake-boat
first. In the fog and drizzle the leaders did not find the stake-boat
at once. Wesley happening to be nearest to it when they did see it,
got the benefit and was first around. We were close up, almost near
enough to board the Withrow's quarter rounding. I am not sure that the
skipper and Clancy, who were to the wheel, did not try to give Hollis
a poke with the end of our long bowsprit; but if they did, the Johnnie
was not quite fast enough for that. The Withrow beat us around.
Looking back we could see the others coming like wild horses. Every
one of them, except one that carried away something and hauled up and
out of it, was diving into it to the foremast with every leap the same
as we had been. On that first leg nobody could stand anywhere for'ard
of the fore-hatch or he would have been swept overboard.
Leaving Egg Rock and going for Minot's Ledge, the skipper left the
wheel and George Nelson took his place beside Clancy. It was drizzling
then, every now and then that settling down so that we couldn't see
three lengths ahead. At such times we simply hoped that nobody ahead
would carry away anything or in any way become disabled in the road.
Well clear of the stake-boat, however, it lifted and we could see what
we were doing. The Lucy Foster was still ahead with O'Donnell and
Ohlsen and Hollis almost abreast--no more than a few lengths between.
Practically they were all about just as they started. We were next. It
was a broad reach to Minot's Ledge and hard going for all hands. It
must be remembered that we all had everything on, even to balloon and
staysails, and our halyards were lashed aloft. The men to the
mast-head, who were up there to shift tacks, were having a sweet time
of it hanging on, even lashed though they were.
Everybody was pretty well strung up at this time. The skipper, a line
about his elbow, was hooked up to the main-rigging--the weather side,
of course--and it was up to a man's waist and boiling white on the lee
side. The crew were snug up under the weather rail and hanging on--no
mistake either about the way they were hanging on. Every once in
awhile one of us would poke his head up to see what they were doing to
windward of us. Mr. Duncan, who had come aboard just before we left
the dock, was trying to sit on the weather bitt near the wheel-box. He
had a line around his waist, too. He had bet a lot of money with
Withrow on the race, but I don't think that his money was worrying him
half so much as some other things then.
So far as we could see at this time we were making as good weather as
any of them. And our best chance--the beat home--was yet to come. The
Johnnie had the stiffness for that. Had the Johnnie reached Gloucester
from the Cape Shore earlier she, too, would have been lightened up and
made less stiff. To be sure she would have had her bottom scrubbed and
we would have had her up to racing pitch, with every bit of sail just
so and her trim gauged to a hair's depth, but that did not matter so
very much now. The Johnnie was in shape for a hard drag like this, and
for that we had to thank the tricky Sam Hollis. We began to see that
after all it was a bit of good luck our vessel not being home in time
to tune up the same as the rest of the fleet.
It was along about here--half-way on the reach to Minot's--that
Tommie Ohlsen broke his main-gaff. It was the fault of the Eastern
Point, the Boston steamer. She had gone ahead of the fleet, taking
almost a straight course for Minot's Ledge. Reaching across from
Half-Way Rock to Minot's the fleet began to overhaul her. She, making
bad weather of it along here, started to turn around. But, rolling to
her top-rail, it was too much for them, and her captain kept her
straight on for Boston. That was all right, but her action threw
Ohlsen off. She was right in the Nannie O's way, and to save the
steamer and themselves from a collision and certain loss of life,
Ohlsen had to jibe the Nannie O, and so suddenly that the Nannie O's
gaff broke under the strain. And that lost Ohlsen his chance for the
race. It was too bad, for with Ohlsen, Marrs, and O'Donnell, each in
his own vessel in a breeze, you could put the names in a hat and shake
them up. When we went by the Nannie O her crew were getting the
trysail out of the hold, and they finished the race with that, and
made good going of it, as we saw afterward. Indeed, a trysail that day
would have been sail enough for almost any men but these.
Before we reached Minot's there was some sail went into the air. One
after the other went the balloons--on the Foster, the Colleen, the
Withrow and at last on us. I don't know whether they had any trouble
on the others--being too busy with our own to watch--but we came near
to losing men with ours. It got caught under our keel, and we started
to try to haul it in--the skipper having an economical notion of
saving the owner the expense of a new sail, I suppose. But Mr. Duncan,
seeing what he was at, sang out: "Let the sail go to the devil,
Captain--I'll pay for the new one myself." Even at that we had to
crawl out on the bowsprit--six or eight of us--with sharp knives, and
cut it away, and we were glad to get back again. The Johnnie never
slackened. It was desperate work.
Rounding Minot's, Tom O'Donnell gave an exhibition of desperate
seamanship. He had made up his mind, it seems, that he was due to pass
Wesley Marrs along here. But first he had to get by the Withrow. Off
Minot's was the turning buoy, with just room, as it was considered,
for one vessel at a time to pass safely in that sea.
O'Donnell figured that the tide being high there was easily room for
two, and then breasted up to the Withrow, outside of her and with the
rocks just under his quarter. Hollis, seeing him come, made a motion
as if to force him on the rocks, but O'Donnell, standing to his own
wheel, called out--"You do, Sam Hollis, and we'll both go." There
certainly would have been a collision, with both vessels and both
crews--fifty men--very likely lost, but Hollis weakened and kept off.
That kind of work was too strong for him. He had so little room that
his main-boom hit the can-buoy as he swept by.
Once well around O'Donnell, in great humor, and courting death, worked
by Hollis and then, making ready to tack and pass Wesley's bow, let
the Colleen have her swing, but with all that sail on and in that
breeze, there could be only one outcome. And yet he might have got
away with it but for his new foremast, which, as he had feared, had
not the strength it should have had. He let her go, never stopped to
haul in his sheets--he had not time to if he was to cross Wesley's
bow. So he swung her and the full force of the wind getting her laid
both spars over the side--first one and then the other clean as could
be.
Hollis never stopped or made a motion to help, but kept on after the
Lucy Foster. We almost ran over O'Donnell, but luffed in time, and the
skipper called out to O'Donnell that we'd stand by and take his men
off.
O'Donnell was swearing everything blue. "Go on--go on--don't mind me.
Go on, I tell you. We're all right. I'll have her under jury rig and
be home for supper. Go on, Maurice--go on and beat that divil
Hollis!"
Half way to Eastern Point on the way back saw us in the wake of the
Withrow, which was then almost up with the Lucy Foster. It was the
beat home now, with all of us looking to see the Withrow do great
things, for just off the ways and with all her ballast in she was in
great trim for it. Going to windward, too, was generally held to be
her best point of sailing. All that Hollis had to do was to keep his
nerve and drive her.