“Hoo!  Hoo!  Hoo!  Tventig dollars to feefty—­dot you goes home quicker as me, no?” Schencke turned to the other men.  “Vat you tinks, yenthelmen?  Ah tinks Ah sbend der tventig dollars now—­so sure Ah vass.”

The others laughed.  “Man, man,” said Findlayson of the Rhondda.  “You don’t tell me Burke’s been fool enough to take that bet.  Hoo!  You haven’t the ghost of a chance, Burke.”

“Och, ye never know,” said the now doleful sportsman.  “Ye never know ye’re luck.”

“Look here, Cabtin,” said Schencke (good-humoured by the unspoken tribute to his vessel’s sailing powers)—­“Ah gif you a chanst.  Ah make de bett dis vay—­look.  Ve goes to Falmouth—­you und me, hein?  Now, de first who comes on de shore vins de money.  Dot vill gif you t’ree days’ start, no?”

“That’s more like it,” said the other captains.  “I wish you luck, Burke,” said Findlayson.  “Good luck—­you’ll need it too—­if you are to be home before the big German.”

So the bet was made.

At daybreak next morning we put out to sea.  The good luck that the Rhondda wished us came our way from the very first.  When the tug left us we set sail to a fine fair wind, and soon were bowling along in style.  We found the nor’-east Trades with little seeking; strong Trades, too, that lifted us to the Line almost before the harbour dust was blown from our masts and spars.  There calms fell on us for a few days, but we drifted south in the right current, and in less than forty days had run into the “westerlies” and were bearing away for the Horn.

Old Burke was “cracking on” for all the Hilda could carry canvas.  Every morning when he came on deck the first question to the mate would be:  “Any ships in sight, mister?” . . .  “Any ships astern,” he meant, for his first glance was always to where the big green four-master might be expected to heave in sight.  Then, when nothing was reported, he would begin his day-long strut up and down the poop, whistling “Garryowen” and rubbing his hands.

Nor was the joy at our good progress his alone.  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.”