“All the same, my hearty; stay where you are,” answered Duggin with a voice as if confident of success. “Ready!” shouted the steward. All oars were thrown forward, as the men bent ready for the first dash. “Fire!” Scarce had the gun boomed over the water when the blades were dipped together. “Pull, boys, pull!” cried the cockswain of the Norah. “Heave away, my lads, heave! now for the start!” cried the other. After about five strokes the buff shot right ahead, clearing completely the bow of her sable rival. A sneer of bitter triumph might be seen on Duggin’s lip as he darted past his hated opponent. In a very few minutes more, however, the buff ceased to gain, as the black, under the powerful and steady stroke of her crew, began to more gallantly through the water. As they came alongside the ruined barracks below the town of Cove, the Sally had come up to the Norah, and for a short distance they went stem and stem together. From that point they had to shoot over towards a large buoy, round which they must turn. The cockswains now urged on their men, who answered by a cheer, as the wave foamed under their strokes. Duggin’s crew pulled with desperate vigour in order to gain the turn, but the black continued the same even regular pull that was evidently telling well. “Look now, father; is the white flag first? is it ahead, father?” asked Sally. “No, child; the Norah is---- No! she is not! Bravo, Bill! there they go for the buoy! That’s it. More power to you, Bill! Don’t they walk out of the saucy buff!” It was true for Jerry; the black boat was now fairly six lengths ahead, and was gaining more at every stroke. They reached the buoy; and now began the difficulty. “Back water, larboard side; pull--pull on the starboard,” said the cockswain. “Magrath, heave! Brien, that’s the go!” shouted William, as he backed with all his might. “Hurra for the honour of Passage! Pull, my lads, pull!--rattle into ’em. Hurra!” bawled the Norah’s helmsman, with a voice hoarse from exertion. Before the Sally could be well got under weigh after the turn, the Norah had darted round the buoy, and was in a moment three lengths beyond her. “Oh, heavens, they’re beat!” said Jerry, as he sank back on the cushion in utter despair. “Don’t say that, father! Look again!” entreated Sally. “There!” cried the old man, as he ventured another glance, “she’s clane out of her again! Bravo, Bill! Give it to her! There she clips, the beauty! I always said there wasn’t your equal except myself at building a gig! Now, boys,” continued he, addressing his own crew, “pull a rattling touch over, and we’ll give them such a cheer! Heave, my lads--that’s it; bend your lazy backs!” The course was about two or three miles in length from the buoy to the old convict-hulk, round whose dark mass the boats must pull before they made for the quay from which they had started, and which was also the winning-place. The struggle up along the bank was indeed a beautiful sight, as from time