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"Give 'em forty-two for a finish, fellows," bawled the Olympia's coxswain through his megaphone, literally pro bono publico. And forty- two did the trick, for forty-six could not be held, and the Olympia's cutter swept past the stake-boat a length in the lead, while Captain Boynton on the bridge beside the admiral of the fleet fairly jumped up and down.
In the fog and drizzle the leaders did not find the stake-boat at once. Wesley happening to be nearest to it when they did see it, got the benefit and was first around. We were close up, almost near enough to board the Withrow's quarter rounding.
We had only the compass to go by, for at the start it was rain and drizzle, as well as wind and a big sea, and you couldn't see a mile ahead. On the way we shot by the New Rochelle, which had started ahead with the intention of waiting for the fleet at the first stake-boat. Now she was headed back, wabbing awfully.
But I don't think that the sea checked them so very much not as much as one might think, for they were driving these vessels. We were next to the last vessel across the starting line. The Nannie O we couldn't see them all about held the Lucy Foster and the Colleen Bawn level. The Withrow showed herself to be a wonderful vessel off the wind, too. Wesley Marrs was around the stake-boat first.
This was a big undertaking, and many people thought it would never be accomplished; the successful aeronaut had to travel more than three miles in one direction, round the Eiffel Tower as a racing yacht rounds a stake-boat, and return to the starting point, all within thirty minutes i.e., almost seven miles in two directions in half an hour.
It was drizzling then, every now and then that settling down so that we couldn't see three lengths ahead. At such times we simply hoped that nobody ahead would carry away anything or in any way become disabled in the road. Well clear of the stake-boat, however, it lifted and we could see what we were doing.
Small wonder that the cry of dismay went up now, for Nott's Point was black, with a lurid light overhead, and the roar of the grim southeast wind came ominously over the water. La Juanita clasped her hands and strained her eyes for her namesake. The racers had rounded the second stake-boat, and the course of the triangle headed them directly for the lurid cloud.
Then came the home stretch; the last telling, racking effort of the two- mile triangle. The Chicago was still pulling a splendid thirty-eight as they swept by the stake-boat, but once the turn was made oars flashed up to forty-two, for the Olympia's nose had forged half a length ahead after that turn.
This is the day Sam Hollis was going to make me take in sail." Less than a minute after that we made our rush for the line. Hollis tried to crowd us outside the stake-boat, which was rolling head to wind and sea, worse than a lightship in a surf gale tried to crowd us out just as an awful squall swooped down. It was the Johnnie or the Withrow then.
There was a quick exclamation from the coxswain of the Chicago's cutter, a sharp command, and the stroke jumped to thirty-eight which sent the boat boiling forward. Another command on the Olympia's as the second stake boat was neared and the Olympia's crew was holding it at forty, a slip to tell, and the boats rounded the second stake-boat bows even.
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