United States or Côte d'Ivoire ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The big lad's voice broke as he spoke of his lost watchmate. "An, if he was here he would want t' thank ye too for the way you've done by us. I can't say any more, Captain Schenke but we want you to take a small present from us the crew of the Hilda's gig." He held out the parcel. Only half understanding the lad's broken words, Schenke took the parcel and opened it.
"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.
He's drawn wit' th' Rhondda in this heat!" Takia bundled aboard the launch and we hauled inshore to watch the race. There was a delay at the start. Schenke, nichts verstehen, as he said, was for sending his boat away without a painter or spare gear. He was pulled up by the judges, and had to borrow. Now they were ready.
"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.
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.
The mate of the Rickmers came on the poop and said something to his captain. Schenke turned to the old man in some wonderment. . . . "Vat dis is, eh? My mate tell me dot your boys is want to speak mit me. Vat it is, Cabtin? No troubles I hope?" Burke looked as surprised as the other. "Send them up, Heinrich," he said.
Suddenly there came a hail from the ship, a roar of orders, rattle of blocks and gear, the yards swung round and she layed up in the wind, while the ghostly glare of a blue light lit up the sea around. A crowd of men were gathered at the waist, now shouting and cheering as we laboured painfully into the circle of vivid light. Old Schenke? The Hedwig Rickmers? Aye Schenke!
No one knew for certain what they could do, only old Schenke, their skipper, and he held his tongue wisely. The James Flint came around the bend, and our eager eyes followed her as she steered after the tug. She was making for the outer anchorage, where the laden ships lie in readiness for a good start off. "Th' wind's 'bout west outside," said Jones.
All right, Cabtin, now you come on board. Ah know all 'bout it! . . . Ah pick de oder boat up in de morning, und dey tells me. You come af mit me, Cabtin. . . . Goot, no?" "Ninety-six days, Schenke, and here we are at the mouth of the Channel!" Old Burke had a note of regret in the saying. "Ninety-six days! Sure, this ship o' yours can sail.
The Slieve Donard, after an unsteady course, had given up. Soon we could hear old Schenke roaring oaths and orders, as his launch came flying on in the wake of the speeding boats. The Germans spurted. We yelled encouragement to the Rhonddas. "Give 'em beans, old sons! . . ." "Rhondda! Rhondda! . . . Shake 'er up" Gallantly the white boat strove to keep her place, but the greens were too strong.
Word Of The Day