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With a bit o' luck, now, ye'll be in Falmouth under the hundred." "So. If de vind holds goot. Oh, de Hedwig Rickmers is a goot sheep, no? But if Ah dond't get de crew of de poor lettle Hilda to work mein sheep, Ah dond't t'ink ve comes home so quick as hundert days, no?" "God bless us, man. Shure, it's the least they cud do, now.
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.
Long experience of Pacific ports had taught him how difficult it is to get a crew at the last moment. So when at length the cargo was stowed, we were quite ready to go to sea, while many others the Hedwig Rickmers among them were waiting for men.
"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.
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.
The Rickmers outside, Rhondda in the middle berth, and the neat little Slieve Donard inshore. At the start the Rhonddas came fair away from the German boat, but even at the distance we could see that the "Dutchmen" were well in hand. At midway the Rhondda was leading by a length, still going strong, but they had shot their bolt, and the green boat was surely pulling up.
On the day before sailing a number of the ship captains were gathered together in the chandler's store, talking of freights and passages, and speculating on the runs they hoped to make. Burke and Schencke were the loudest talkers, for we were both bound to Falmouth "for orders," and the Rickmers would probably sail three days after we had gone.
Still, even with the Yankee gone, there were others in the running. There was the Rhondda that held the Cup for the year, having won when we were somewhere off the Horn; then the Hedwig Rickmers a Bremen four-master which had not before competed, but whose green-painted gig was out for practice morning and night. Try as we might, we could never pull off a spurt with them.
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.
Another Yankee, the R. C. Rickmers, the largest sailing vessel in the world to-day, exceeds this. But her tonnage is much greater, more than eleven thousand gross, and her rig is entirely different. A full-rigged clipper ship might have twenty-two square sails, though it was rare to see so many. In addition she would have studding-sails to wing her square sails farther out.
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