Through the row which ensued the
Thistle's crew snored peacefully, and at last were handed up over the
sides like sacks of potatoes, and the indignant watermen pulled back to
the stairs.
"Here's a nice crew to win a race with!" wailed the skipper, almost
crying with rage. "Chuck the water over 'em, Joe! Chuck the water over
'em !"
Joe obeyed willingly, until at length, to the skipper's great relief,
one man stirred, and, sitting up on the deck, sleepily expressed his
firm conviction that it was raining. For a moment they both had hopes of
him, but as Joe went to the side for another bucketful, he evidently
came to the conclusion that he had been dreaming, and, lying down again,
resumed his nap. As he did so the first stroke of Big Ben came booming
down the river.
"Eleven o'clock!" shouted the excited skipper.
It was too true. Before Big Ben had finished, the neighbouring church
clocks commenced striking with feverish haste, and hurrying feet and
hoarse cries were heard proceeding from the deck of the GOOD INTENT.
"Loose the sails!" yelled the furious Tucker. "Loose the sails! Damme,
we'll get under way by ourselves!"
He ran forward, and, assisted by the mate, hoisted the jibs, and then,
running back, cast off from the brig, and began to hoist the mainsail.
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