and most of our crew, having little wages due to them, had deserted
soon after our arrival. Only we apprentices and the sail-maker
remained, and we had work enough to set our muscles up in the heavy
harbour jobs. Trimming coal and shovelling ballast may not be
scientific training, but it is grand work for the back and shoulders.

We were in good trim for rowing. The old man had given us every
opportunity, and nothing he could do was wanting to make us fit. Day
and daily we had set our stroke up by the long pull from the anchorage
to the wharves, old Burke coaching and encouraging, checking and
speeding us, till we worked well together. Only last Sunday he had
taken us out of our way, up the creek, to where we could see the flag
at the _Rhondda's_ masthead. The old man said nothing, but well we
knew he was thinking of how the square of blue silk, with Californian
emblem worked in white, would look at his trim little _Hilda's_
fore-truck! This flag accompanied the Cup, and now (if only the Yankee
and his hired whalemen were safely at sea) we had hopes of seeing it at
our masthead again.

Tea over--still excited talk went on. Some one recalled the last time
we had overhauled and passed the _Rhondda's_ gig.

"It's all very well your bucking about beating the _Rhondda_," said
Gregson; "but don't think we're going to have it all our own way!
Mebbe they were 'playing 'possum' when we came by that time!"

"Maybe," said Jones. "There's Peters and H. Dobson in her crew. Good
men! Both rowed in the Worcester boat that left the Conways' at the
start, three years ago. . . . And what about the _Rickmers_? . . . .
No, no! It won't do to be too cocksure! . . . . Eh, Takia?"