The _James
Flint_! Nothing else in 'Frisco harbour had spars like hers; no ship
was as trim and clean as the big Yankee clipper that Bully Nathan
commanded. The sails were all aloft, the boats aboard. She was ready
to put to sea.
Our cries brought the captain and mate on deck, and the sight of the
outward-bounder made old man Burke's face beam like a nor'west moon.
"A chance for ye now, byes," he shouted. "An open race, bedad! Ye've
nothin' t' be afraid of if th' _James Flint_ goes t' sea by Saturday!"
Great was our joy at the prospect of the Yankee's sailing. The 'Frisco
Merchants' Cup was to be rowed for on Saturday. It was a mile-and-half
race for ships' boats, and three wins held the Cup for good. Twice, on
previous years, the _Hilda's_ trim gig had shot over the line--a
handsome winner. If we won again, the Cup was ours for keeps! But
there were strong opponents to be met this time. The _James Flint_ was
the most formidable. It was open word that Bully Nathan was keen on
winning the trophy. Every one knew that he had deliberately sought out
boatmen when the whalers came in from the north. Those who had seen
the Yankee's crew at work in their snaky carvel-built boat said that no
one else was in it.
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