Takia was our cox-n, a small wiry Jap. Nothing great in inches, but a
demon for good steering and timing a stroke. He was serving his
apprenticeship with us and had been a year in the _Hilda_. Brute
strength was not one of his points, but none was keener or more active
in the rigging than our little Jap.

He smiled,--he always smiled,--he found it the easiest way of speaking
English. "Oh, yes," he said. "Little cocksu'--good! Too much
cocksu'--no good!"

We laughed at the wisdom of the East.

"Talk about being cocky," said Gregson; "you should hear Captain
Schenke bragging about the way he brought the _Hedwig Rickmers_ out. I
heard 'em and the old man at it in the ship-chandler's yesterday.
Hot . . . . Look here, you chaps! I don't think the old man cares so
much to win the Cup as to beat Schenke! The big 'squarehead' is always
ramming it down Burke's throat how he brought his barque out from
Liverpool in a hundred and five days, while the _Hilda_ took ten days
more on her last run out!"

"That's so, I guess," said Jones. (Jones had the Yankee "touch.")
"Old Burke would dearly love to put a spoke in his wheel, but it'll
take some doing. They say that Schenke has got a friend down from
Sacramento--gym.-instructor or something to a college up there. He'll
be training the 'Dutchy' crew like blazes. They'll give us a hot time,
I'll bet!"

Gregson rose to go on deck. "Oh, well," he said, "it won't be so bad