to catch the words, and she answered, emphatically, "No, Catherine; you're mistaken. It ain't crustiness as makes me speak as I spoke then. But I'm nigh upon fifty year longer in the world than you. And I've seen a deal of people, high and low. I'd do more for that young lass than you would. But, all the same, I read her as plain as print. I tell you, it makes me sorry to see her sometimes." "Sorry! What for?" "What for? Well, there's no need to say whether it's for this or for that; but I am sorry to see a young creature with no more religion than a heathen-Lord forgive me!—and her head turned with vanity and vain-glory, and caring for nothing but show-off and being admired. I tell you, if Miss Veronica was sent to live among black Indians, she'd paint herself blacker than any of 'em, if that was what they considered handsome. Ah, deary me, Catherine, child! don't get to think too much of that rosy face of yours. It is pretty now. You needn't plume yourself up. God made it, and he didn't make it to last very long." "There's the door-bell!" said Catherine, jumping up, not unwilling to escape from Joanna's moralising. In a few minutes the hall-door was shut heavily, and almost immediately afterwards the vicar rang his bell. "Was that Miss Veronica ?" he asked, as the girl entered the room. "No, sir; it was Jemmy Sack, sir. He brought a message from my young lady to say as she wouldn't be home to-night." 'Not be home to-night!" "No, sir. Jemmy Sack saw Miss Veronica at the school-house, and she bad him say, as it threatened rain, she should very likely stay at Mrs. Plew's for the night. And you wasn't to be alarmed, please sir.' "Alarmed! No, of course I am not alarmed. But- Where is Jemmy? Is servant what had passed, the old woman shook her head. "Ah," said she, "that's the way. The strange face is gone. There's nobody at home to amuse my lady, so off she goes to make a fool of that soft-hearted little surgeon, that would just lay down and let her walk over him, if she had a mind to." "But, Joanna, it's a real bad night. I don't wonder as she didn't like the walk home, all along that sloppy lane, or through the churchyard, as is worse a deal, and lonesomer." "It ain't sloppiness, nor yet churchyards that could keep Miss Veronica if she wanted to come. And, what's more, if Miss Maud had been at home she wouldn't have stayed at old Mrs. Plew's. For Miss Maud she do take her up pretty short about her goings on with that soft little man. If there's anybody on God's earth as Veronica minds, or looks up to, it's Miss Desmond. And I've wished more than once lately that Miss Maud hadn't been away this fortnight." "Why?" asked Catherine, gazing with open-mouthed curiosity at Joanna. 'Well, it's no matter. I may ha' been wrong, or I may ha' been right; but all's well that ends well, as the saying goes." And with this oracular response Catherine was fain to content herself. THE ATLANTIC YACHT RACE. IT was not an ancient mariner-it was, on the contrary, a rather young and inexperienced mariner-who suggested the ocean yacht race in 1866. At a dinner in New York (all of the company being members of the New York Yacht the Club), the discussion happened to turn upon sea-worthiness of centre-board boats, or boats fitted with a false movable keel. Thereupon, Mr. Peter Lorillard offered to match his centreboard yacht, the Vesta, against Mr. George Osgood's keel yacht, the Fleetwing, for a race across the Atlantic. In order to more thoroughly test the question whether centre-board yachts could sail only in smooth water, the race was fixed for the month of December, when rough weather upon the Atlantic is a certainty. The match having been made, Mr. Bennett asked to be allowed to enter his yacht, the Henrietta, for the race, and this request was at once granted. The joint stakes amounted to one hundred thousand dollars in greenbacks about sixteen thousand pounds-and were duly deposited in the hands of the stakeholders. Mr. William M'Vickar, then commodore of the yacht club, consented to cross to England in a steamer, await the arrival of the competitors, and act as referee for the race. It was further arranged that the race should be sailed according to the yacht club regulations concerning canvas and ballast; and that each yacht should carry two judges to certify that these regulations were strictly observed. Sandy Hook, New York, was to be the starting-point: the Needles, off the Isle of Wight, the winning-post. least two months. Up to the last moment hampers of provisions, boxes of wine and spirits, cigars, and all sorts of comforts and luxuries were sent on board by anxious friends. The day was clear, cold, and bright; the ice was forming in At first the American press roundly de- the harbour; and the wind was as westerly as nounced the proposed race as a foolhardy un- could be desired. All the flags in New York City dertaking, almost sure to end in the drowning were flying; the wharves were crowded with of all concerned. Such gloomy prognostica- spectators; the harbour was dotted with extions, however, only increased the public in- cursion steamers. At seven o'clock A.M. the terest in the event; and, as the time for the dark blue racing flag of the Henrietta was disrace approached, the popular excitement vented played, and the yachts were taken in tow by itself in tremendous wagers, only to be paral- tugs to be drawn to their starting stations. leled by the betting in England upon the Derby. From this time no communication was perThe Fleetwing was decidedly and justly the mitted between the yachts and the shore: partly favourite; the Vesta being entirely untried at to prevent any further difficulties in regard to sea, and the Henrietta being regarded as very the crews: and partly because several kind but slow, though perfectly seaworthy. In their frightened friends had conceived the idea of previous performances, the Vesta had beaten subpoenaing some of the yachtsmen as witnesses the Fleetwing, and both had outsailed the in trials of which they knew nothing, in order Henrietta. To an inexperienced eye there to preserve them from the perils of the sea. As seemed very little differences in their build and the yachts were towed down the Narrows, folrigging. Their burdens, too, were very nearly lowed by scores of steamers, propellers, sailequal, the Fleetwing registering two hundred boats, and pilot-boats, the enthusiasm was and twelve tons, the Henrietta two hundred absolutely painful to those on board, and and five, and the Vesta two hundred and it was a relief when the calling of the roll one, American measurement. By the Eng- came to distract their overstrained feelings. lish system of measurement this tonnage In the Fleetwing sailed Messrs. Centre and would be largely increased. Some difficulty Staples, of the New York Yacht Club, who was experienced in securing seamen to cross went as judges; Captain Thomas, who comthe Atlantic in such vessels and in such manded the yacht; and a crew of twenty-two weather. The men were willing enough to men. In the Vesta, were Messrs. George Lorilengage, but their mothers, wives, and sweet- lard and Taylor, the judges; Captain Dayton, hearts interfered, and persuaded them not to and twenty-three petty officers and seamen. In sign articles. Moved by such feminine solici- the Henrietta, were Mr. Bennett, the owner; tations, the picked crew of the Henrietta de-Messrs. Jerome, Knapp, and Fisk, judges and serted her, a few days before the start, and their places had to be supplied by a lot of landlubbers, few of whom could climb a mast. To make up for a similar deficiency on board the Fleetwing, half a dozen merchant captains volunteered for the voyage, and those brave fellows were, unfortunately, the very men whom Neptune doomed to death. To find the necessary complement of judges for the yachts was also not an easy matter. Invitations to prominent yachtsmen were declined for various reasons, and the gentlemen who finally served in this capacity were almost all volunteers. Messrs. Lorillard and Osgood, the owners of the Vesta and the Fleetwing, were detained at home by business, and reluctantly relinquished their intention of sailing their own yachts in the race. Thus it happened that, although the Henrietta was an outsider in the original match, although she had the reputation of being slow, and although she was very ill manned, yet the people suddenly made her their pet, and loudly hoped that she would win, because Mr. Bennett adhered to his determination to sail in her. Public sympathy was unanimously with "the only man who goes in his own boat." On the morning of the eleventh of December, 1866, the three yachts lay off Staten Island ready to start. They had been very carefully equipped. The trip was estimated to occupy about twenty days; but the yachts were provisioned for at | guests; Captain Samuels, formerly of the clipper ship Dreadnought; Sailing-Master Lyons; and a crew of twenty-four seamen, including petty officers, carpenter, sailmaker, and stewards. At precisely one o'clock P.M., Mr. Fearing, the club starter, gave the signal for the race. Simultaneously the tugs were cast off, the sailors flew aloft, and the yachts were covered with canvas. The Fleetwing, having the most northerly position, and by far the best crew, easily gained an advantage at the start, and dashed away before the fresh breeze as if inspired to win. The Vesta followed almost as quickly; but the Henrietta, lying close in shore, had the worst of the start, and lagged behind despondingly. The tugs and excursion steamers sailed in a line after the yachts, bands and bells and cheers uniting in an encouraging clamour. As a striking contrast, the wreck of the Scotland lay abeam, sternly suggesting the dangers that were to be encountered on the voyage. Presently the bright sun was obscured by heavy clouds; the wind rapidly freshened; the good-byes shouted from the steamers were but faintly heard; the mournful strains of Auld Lang Syne sadly reminded the yachtsmen of the friends they were leaving. Then Sandy Hook, the extreme point of land, sunk out of sight; the Neversink Highlands faded into a cloud and soon disappeared; the last tie to home was dissolved; the open sea was before the voyagers; and three cheers from all the yachts bade farewell to the United States. The yachts were at this time almost abreast, driven through the water by a ten-knot breeze. As the sun set in a glory of crimson and gold, each captain took the course he had previously selected. The Fleetwing kept to the northward; the Henrietta held straight on for the European steamer track; the Vesta dropped away to the southward, hoping to ❘ meet with weather more favourable to her peculiar construction. At six o'clock P.M. the yachtsmen on the Henrietta lost sight of the Fleetwing in the darkness. The Vesta was visible until eight o'clock, and then she, too, vanished in a moment. Now, for the first time, we felt the terrible loneliness of the sea. But the lights were bright in the cabin; a sumptuous dinner was served, and, what with songs and stories below, and a succession of heavy snow-squalls on deck, there was no chance to be melancholy. Fortunately, seasickness did not succeed home-sickness. The Henrietta rocked as gently as a cradle, and no person on board experienced a moment's illness at any period of the voyage. The next day was very bright, but very cold. We were up betimes, and on the look-out for the other two yachts. Neither of them was ever in sight until we arrived at Cowes. We were not long in ignorance of the quality of the Henrietta's crew. One man after another was sent up to reeve a signalhalyard, and one man after another slipped up and down the topmast, like a toy-monkey on a stick. In any case of emergency, we should have to rely upon Captain Samuels, sailingmaster Lyons, and Jones and Coles, the first and second officers: who seemed to have as many lives and as much agility as a pair of cats, if one might judge from the manner in which they jumped and climbed about, eager to atone for the lubberliness of the rest of the crew. We carried all sail, and made eleven knots an hour until noon, when we were struck by a snow-squall, and had to take in topsails. The wind came in angry gusts from the north. At one o'clock, the end of our first nautical day, we found that the Henrietta had sailed two hundred and thirty-five knots by observation, and two hundred and thirty-seven by log. In the afternoon we showed our racing signal to two steamers, and received prompt replies. Several sailing vessels were in sight; but whenever we hoisted our dark blue flag they kept away from us. This was our constant experience throughout the race. Whether the captains of these ships took the Henrietta for a pirate, or a Fenian privateer-for in those days there were all kinds of mad tales about the Fenians-has not been satisfactorily explained; but we were never able to speak a vessel, although several were in our direct course, until we neared the coast of England. As night fell, the weather grew more stormy, and the mainsails were reefed. Every now and then, as the gale moderated, the reefs were shaken out, only to be taken in again when the wind increased. During this storm-and, in fact, throughout the whole voyage-it was wonderful to observe the tact and patience with which Messrs. Lyons and Jones, who commanded the two watches into which the crew was divided, managed to get the utmost speed out of the yacht. At all hours the Henrietta carried all the canvas she could safely bear, but not a shred more. The sails were taken in and set, a score of times a day, as the weather varied. Not a moment was lost, not a rope strained, not an inch of canvas carried away. These incessant manoeuvres singularly resembled those of a physician who administers stimulants to a patient with his hand upon the pulse, carefully noting every change. The Henrietta could not have had better doctors, and could not have done them greater credit. And now, if the gentle reader be willing to trust himself upon a yacht in the Atlantic Ocean on a stormy night in the middle of December, he shall be invited on board the Henrietta, and shown over the vessel. The yacht is inclined at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and, as she has no bulwarks, the seas break over her, amidships. Having secured a firm and moderately dry position on deck, the gentle reader looks about him and sees, first of all, the man at the wheel, who is illuminated by the little lamp placed above the compass. Near this seaman, leaning over the rope that serves as a bulwark for the yacht, is Master Lyons, who commands the watch. The cabin doors are closed, to shut out the intruding sea. The deck is encumbered amidships, on the one side by spare spars, and on the other by the jollyboat, which is more ornamental than useful, since no row-boat could swim when the Henrietta must sink. None of the crew is visible. One watch is asleep in the forecastle; the other is coiled up under tarpaulins forward. All sail is cracked on for the moment. Those queer oblong boxes, hauled half-way up the masts, contain canvas-back ducks-appropriate game for a yacht race-intended as presents for English friends, and especially for her Majesty the Queen. There is nothing else of interest to be seen on deck; neither Master Lyons nor the helmsman cares to talk, and outside the yacht the scriptural "blackness of darkness" rests upon the face of the waters. So we had better descend to the cabin, whence scraps of songs and shouts of laughter issue invitingly. Stay! Those port-holes attract attention. The Henrietta served as a revenue cutter during the late Civil War, and those port-holes were for her carronades. Her length? About equal to the frontage of three ordinary houses. Her breadth? Very nearly that of an ordinary room. The quarter-deck, so styled by courtesy, is about ten feet by six, and to that space, inclined at the angle aforesaid, almost all our exercise is confined. It is hardly as large as a barn-door. In the cabin behold five persons, known on board as, respectively, the chief, the captain, the lieutenant, the joker, and the journalist. The chief is, of course, the owner of the yacht. The captain is Captain Samuels, who com mands the Henrietta. He ran away from school; went to sea as a common sailor; turned out to be an uncommon sailor; worked his way up unaided, to the rank of captain; taught himself navigation and all other useful knowledge; lived a pure Christian amid the dissipations of the merchant service; made himself respected equally by his virtues and his fists; crossed the Atlantic on seven occasions in the quickest time on record for a sailing ship; encountered adventures which would have put Othello to the blush, in spite of the Moor's complexion, and, above all, retained, developed, or acquired, the manners and motives of a thorough gentleman. The lieutenant is a little, quiet fellow, brimfull of cool courage, never losing his presence of mind except when ladies are in sight. He owes his title to his service in the Henrietta during the war. You will probably have stumbled over the joker in descending the companion-way. It is his custom to sit on the stairs, wrapped in a waterproof coat, and endeavour to seduce one of his companions to sit beside him, in the hope that a wave may drench the unwary victim. In appearance and humour he is a combination of Sir John Falstaff, Artemus Ward, and Joseph Miller. He laughs at everybody, and everybody laughs at him. In rough weather, he wins the captain's heart by attentively perusing a pocketbible. In pleasant weather, he makes the hours pass like seconds with his jokes, songs, and stories. In a word, no yacht race would be complete without him. The journalist is the very reverse of the joker, against whom he is often pitted in single combat for the amusement of the company. His weakness is an ambition to be doing something, when there is absolutely nothing to be done. He keeps the log; he volunteers to assist the captain in working out his observations; he scribbles songs and attempts to teach his comrades to sing them; he makes himself obnoxious by wishing for a tremendous storm so that he may have something to describe. boxes of fragrant Havannahs. There are cards on board, but they are never used; books, but they are never read. Even the bottles are used moderately. The overwhelming excitement of the race supersedes all other forms of excitement. Cigars, however, are in constant demand. To the right and left, at the end of the cabin, are doors leading to the state-rooms already mentioned. Between them is a narrow passage connecting the cabin with the kitchen. If the gentle reader be not averse to a glass of grog on this cold December night, he has only to signify his wish, and, in response to shouts of Tom, Albert, or Edward, two stewards and one cabin-boy rush into view. Experience has taught them that whenever anybody wants anything, the rest of the company are sure to join in the demand, and hence this triple apparition, like the witches in Macbeth. On the second nautical day we had sailed two hundred and ten miles by observation, and twenty miles more by log. Captain Samuels accounted for this discrepancy by a current that had drifted us to the south-west. The afternoon was clear and sunshiny; the night was bright with moonlight, obscured by occasional snow-squalls. The next day, the fourteenth of December, the weather was sultry and the sea comparatively smooth. All day long. nothing was in sight except flocks of gulls and Mother Carey's chickens. At noon, we had made two hundred and four miles more. In the evening, the moon showered silver upon a sea as placid as the Thames. We were all aroused at midnight by a change in the weather. Repeated squalls of rain and hail, like the quick blows of an accomplished pugilist, struck the Henrietta, and knocked her through the heavy seas at the rate of eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, knots an hour. This battering by Boreas continued until sunrise, when a snow-storm set in. The waves foamed upon the deck, as if showing their white teeth at the presumptuous little yacht. To leeward, a spar from some recent wreck lifted itself to view, like a warning finger. Scudding before the wind, the Henrietta fairly flew over the waves; but the silence, which no one felt disposed to break except by whispers, was most depressing. No observation could be taken, as the sun was totally obscured, but the dead reckoning-suggestive phrase!-assured us that we had sailed two hundred and twenty-five miles during the past twenty-four hours. There was some comfort in this. Even the storm was helping us to victory. The cabin itself is the size of a small roomsay, of the gentle reader's library. On the starboard side, is a divan, upon which two men may sleep comfortably. The joker sleeps there, having been turned out of his bed in the chief's state-room by a leaky seam. The journalist also sleeps there-though he has a berth in the state-room with the lieutenantbecause he labours under the idea that he must be at hand whenever the captain stirs, in order to see what is happening. On the larboard side, are piles of spare sails, and upon these the As night-which was but a darker daycaptain sleeps, whenever the exigencies of the closed in upon us, the Henrietta sailed faster race permit him to close his eyes, which is but and faster. This was a habit of the little very seldom. It is a curious fact that, when-yacht. Often at sunset we used to pat her ever anybody else invades the captain's couch, by day or night, the yacht jibes, and the result is an awful tumble. In the centre of the cabin is a table, with a rim to restrain refractory plates. Around this table, the company are gathered. They have just finished a supper of fried oysters and game. Before them are song-books, bottles of Château Margaux, and as if she had been a living thing, and cry, encouragingly, "Now, Henrietta! This is your time, dearie!" Perhaps the dew wetted the sails, and thus ensured our superior speed after nightfall. But on this especial evening the little boat shuddered as she went, like a racehorse overdriven. The pumps were tested every hour; but though they sounded like a knell, they showed no leakage. Sea after sea Again the night came, and we had cleared the Grand Banks and were off soundings. The sea still hammered away at the yacht, as if Neptune had surrendered his trident to Vulcan; but the wind held from the northward, and the gallant Henrietta registered her eleven and twelve knots an hour. The next morning we were in the "roaring forties"-degrees of longitude which the captain had taught us to dread. The character of the waves entirely altered. Instead of dancing over short chopping seas, like those of the English Channel, we passed between ranges of water-hills. Sailing in the trough of the sea, the sensation was precisely similar to that which is experienced in passing through a railway cutting, except that our banks were movable. As they rose and fell they disclosed mirages in the dim distance. | Ships under full sail, ocean islands, even momentary towns and cities, were pictured upon the waves, the views changing like those of a kaleidoscope. The water was glazed by the snow, and appeared to be of the consistency of oil. There was no horizon. The sky was veiled with leaden clouds. Nevertheless, we were in excellent spirits, for the barometer promised us fair weather; the wind, which had been wavering for some hours, again blew from | the north; and our reckoning showed that the yacht had gained two hundred and eighty miles during the past day. Thus in six days and fourteen hours we had sailed half across the Atlantic. In the afternoon a magnificent rainbow decorated the sky and endorsed the promises of the barometer. Amid the general jubilance, the captain alone was morose. He declared that we had been too fortunate, and that our luck was too good to last. The barometer was wrong; the rainbow was wrong; Captain Samuels, as usual, was right. During the night the wind shifted to west-southwest, and we were compelled to jibe ship, throwing all the sleepers out of their berths remorselessly. Rain and hail-squalls followed each other in rapid succession. Signs of dirty weather ominously increased. For the first time, the mainsail was double-reefed. At noon we had sailed two hundred and fifty miles; but with the dreaded south-west wind to baffle us we had no hope of such splendid progress in the future. Clearly, we should have to face an adverse gale. The journalist was about to have his wishes realised; but the rest of the company regarded him as a Jonah, and glared at him as wrathfully as if he had been personally responsible for the storm. At four o'clock P.M. the gale had set in with all its fury. The mainsail was furled, the jibs were taken in, and the foresail was trebly reefed. Under this small spread of canvas, the yacht was driven at the rate of nine knots an hour. The rain and spray now dropped around the vessel like a watery curtain, as if the sea would conceal from us the terrors it was preparing. The Henrietta, tormented by the wind and waves, lost all patience, and pitched and tossed about like a thing possessed of evil spirits. The yacht was put in order for the worst. A bucket was placed near the cabin stove, to extinguish the fire if necessary. The dead-lights leaked. Water came dripping in through seams hitherto seaworthy. Needless to say, it was impossible to sleep. The servants, attempting to comply with innumerable orders, were flung about the cabin, as if discharged from catapults. The seamen moved about dejectedly, as though some great peril were impending. The ready cry, "If you're not satisfied, take your carpetbag and go ashore," that had hitherto prevented all grumbling, no longer preserved good humour among the yachtsmen. At last the order, Lie down and take it easy," sent the company to their couches, and transformed them into marine Mark Tapleys. It was so pleasant to lie there and watch the men boring holes in the floor to let out the water in case the waves broke through the skylight! Suppose the waves did break through the skylight-what then? As if in answer, there came a frightful crash on deck. A tremendous sea had burst over the quarter, struck full upon the foresail, and glanced off upon the jolly-boat, staving in the boat's side like a blow from a sledgehammer. If that sea had struck the deck first, the Henrietta must have foundered with all on board. Simultaneously, the carpenter 66 |