Thursday passed--and now Friday--still there was no sign of the wind
changing, and the big Yankee barque lay quietly at anchor over by the
Presidio.
When the butcher came off from the shore with the day's stores, we
eagerly questioned him about the prospects of the _James Flint's_
sailing. "_Huh_! I guess yew're nat the only 'citizens' that air
concarned 'bout that!" he said. "They're talkin' 'bout nuthin' else on
every 'lime-juicer' in the Bay! . . . . An' th' _Rickmers_! Gee!
Schenkie's had his eye glued ter th' long telescope ever since
daybreak, watchin' fer th' _Flint_ heavin' up anchor!"
The butcher had varied information to give us. Now it was that Bully
Nathan had telegraphed to his New York owners for permission to remain
in port over Sunday. Then again, Bully was on the point of being
dismissed his ship for not taking full advantage of a puff of nor'-west
wind that came and went on Thursday night.
. . . The _Flint_ was short of men! . . . The Flint had a full crew
aboard! Rumours and rumours! "All sorts o' talk," said the butcher;
"but I know this fer certain--she's got all her stores aboard. Gosh!
I guess--she--has! I don't like to wish nobody no harm, byes, but I
hope Bully Nathan's first chop 'll choke him, fer th' way he done me
over the beef! . . . Scorch 'im!"
In the forenoon we dropped the gig and put out for practice. Old Burke
and the mate came after us in the dinghy, the old man shouting
instruction and encouragement through his megaphone as we rowed a
course or spurted hard for a furious three minutes. Others were out on
the same ploy, and the backwaters of the Bay had each a lash of oars to
stir their tideless depths. Near us the green boat of the _Rickmers_
thrashed up and down in style. Time and again we drew across--"just
for a friendly spurt"--but the "Dutchies" were not giving anything
away, and sheered off as we approached. We spent an hour or more at
practice and were rowing leisurely back to the ship when the green boat
overhauled us, then slowed to her skipper's orders.
"How you vass, Cabtin Burke?" said Schenke, an enormous fair-headed
Teuton, powerful-looking, but run sadly to fat in his elder years.
"You t'ink you get a chanst now, _hein_? . . . Now de Yankee is goin'
avay!" He pointed over to the Presidio, where the _Flint_ lay at
anchor. We followed the line of his fat forefinger. At anchor, yes,
but the anchor nearly a-weigh. Her flags were hoisted, the blue peter
fluttering at the fore, and the _Active_ tug was passing a hawser
aboard, getting ready to tow her out. The smoke from the tugboat's
funnel was whirling and blowing over the low forts that guard the
Golden Gates. Good luck! A fine nor'-west breeze had come that would
lift our dreaded rival far to the south'ard on her way round Cape Horn!
Schenke saw the pleased look with which old Burke regarded the Yankee's
preparations for departure.
"Goot bizness, eh?" he said. "You t'ink you fly de flack on de _Hilda_
nex' _Sonndag_, Cabtin? Veil! Ah wish you goot look, but you dond't
got it all de same!"
"Oh, well, Captain Schenke, we can but thry," said the old man. "We
can but thry, sorr! . . . Shure, she's a foine boat--that o'
yours. . . . An' likely-looking lads, too!" No one could but admire
the well-set figures of the German crew as they stroked easily beside
us.
"_Schweinehunden_," said Schenke brutally. We noticed more than one
stolid face darkling as they glanced aside. Schenke had the name of a
"hard case." "_Schweinehunden_," he said again. "Dey dond't like de
hard vork, Cabtin. . . . Dey dond't like it--but ve takes der Coop,
all de same! Dey pulls goot und strong, oder"--he rasped a short
sentence in rapid Low German--"Shermans dond't be beat by no durn
lime-juicer, _nein_!"
Old Burke grinned. "Cocky as ever, Captain Schenke! Bedad now, since
ye had the luck of ye're last passage there's no limit to ye!"
"Luck! Luck! Alvays de luck mit you, Cabtin!"
"An' whatt ilse? . . . Sure, if I hadn't struck a bilt of calms an'
had more than me share of head winds off the Horn, I'd have given ye a
day or two mesilf!"
"Ho! Ho! Ho! _Das ist gut_!" The green boat rocked with Schenke's
merriment. He laughed from his feet up--every inch of him shook with
emotion. "Ho! Ho! Hoo! _Das ist ganz gut_. You t'ink you beat de
_Hedwig Rickmers_ too, Cabtin? You beat 'm mit dot putty leetle
barque? You beat 'm mit de _Hilda_, _nichtwahr_?"
"Well, no," said our old man. "I don't exactly say I beat the
_Rickmers_, but if I had the luck o' winds that ye had, bedad, I'd
crack th' _Hilda_ out in a hundred an' five days too!"
"Now, dot is not drue, Cabtin! _Aber ganz und gar nicht_! You know
you haf bedder look von de vind as Ah got. Ah sail mein sheep! Ah
dond't vait for de fair winds nor not'ings!"
"No," said Burke, "but ye get 'em, all the same. Everybody knows ye've
th' divil's own luck, Schenke!"
"Und so you vas! Look now, Cabtin Burke. You t'nk you got so fast a
sheep as mein, eh? Veil! Ah gif you a chanst to make money. Ah bet
you feefty dollars to tventig, Ah take mein sheep home quicker as you
vass!"
"Done wit' ye," said stout old 'Paddy' Burke, though well he know the
big German barque could sail round the little _Hilda_. "Fifty dollars
to twenty, Captain Schenke, an' moind y've said it!"
The green boat sheered off and forged ahead, Schenke laughing and
waving his hand derisively. When they had pulled out of earshot, the
old man turned ruefully to the mate: "Five pounds clean t'rown away,
mister! Foine I know the _Rickmers_ can baate us, but I wasn't goin'
t' let that ould 'squarehead' have it all his own way! Divil th' fear!"
We swung under the _Hilda's_ stern and hooked on to the gangway. The
old man stepped out, climbed a pace or two, then came back.
"Look ye here, byes," he said, "I'll give ye foive dollars a man--an' a
day's 'liberty' t' spind it--if ye only baate th' 'Dutchmen.' . . .
Let th' Cup go where it will!"