Before this insidious
flattery the skipper's wrath melted like snow before the sun, and by the
time they reached port he would as soon have thought of hitting his own
father as his smooth-tongued engineer.
OUTSAILED
It was a momentous occasion. The two skippers sat in the private bar of
the "Old Ship," in High Street, Wapping, solemnly sipping cold gin and
smoking cigars, whose sole merit consisted in the fact that they had
been smuggled. It is well known all along the waterside that this
greatly improves their flavour.
"Draw all right?" queried Captain Berrow?-a short, fat man of few ideas,
who was the exulting owner of a bundle of them.
"Beautiful," replied Captain Tucker, who had just made an excursion into
the interior of his with the small blade of his penknife. "Why don't you
keep smokes like these, landlord?"
"He can't," chuckled Captain Berrow fatuously. "They're not to be 'ad--
money couldn't buy 'em."
The landlord grunted. "Why don't you settle about that race o' yours an'
ha' done with it," he cried, as he wiped down his counter. "Seems to me,
Cap'n Tucker's hanging fire."
"I'm ready when he is," said Tucker, somewhat shortly.
"It's taking your money," said Berrow slowly; "the Thistle can't hold a
candle to the Good Intent, and you know it.
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