"I'm not beaten yet, and I don't mean to be," laughed Larry, "and I'm not going to lose my wind talking," he added, and became silent.
On and on they went, each riding lightly over swell after swell, until the bow was gained. Heeding the captain's warning, Larry gave it a berth of several feet, and Striker did the same. But the man was now close at hand, and a few additional strokes put him several feet in advance.
"Striker's ahead!"
"Go it, Larry; don't let him beat you!"
"The best man wins, and it's a new pair of pants he gets as a reward!" cried Captain Ponsberry, and held up the garment mentioned—a pair picked up on the ship many months before with no owner coming forward to claim them. "I think they'll most fit ye, Larry, so put in your best licks for 'em!"
"Stretch 'em out to fit me, cap'n!" cried Striker, "for they'll be mine when this race is over; stretch 'em out!"
And a laugh went up at the Yankee's words. The lank sailor was now two yards ahead, and the yawl was less than thirty yards off. In vain Larry tried to increase his stroke, the distance between him and his opponent remained the same.
