We in the half-deck
knew of the bet, and were keen that the ship which carried the
Merchants' Cup should not be overhauled by the runner-up! We had made
a fetish of the trophy so hardly won. The Cup itself was safely stowed
in the ship's strong chest, but the old man had let us have custody of
the flag. Big Jones had particular charge of it; and it had been a
custom while in 'Frisco to exhibit it on the Saturday nights to
admiring and envious friends from other ships. This custom we
continued when at sea. True, there were no visitors to set us up and
swear what lusty chaps we were, but we could frank one another and say,
"If you hadn't done this or that, we would never have won the race."
On a breezy Saturday evening we were busy at these rites. The _Hilda_
was doing well before a steady nor'-west wind, but the weather--though
nothing misty--was dark as a pall. Thick clouds overcast the sky, and
there seemed no dividing line between the darkling sea and the windy
banks that shrouded the horizon. A dirty night was in prospect; the
weather would thicken later; but that made the modest comforts of the
half-deck seem more inviting by comparison; and we came together for
our weekly "sing-song"--all but Gregson, whose turn it was to stand the
lookout on the fo'c'sle-head.
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