Nine of them were lost, her skipper among them. One of the men saved--the cook--said that when the squall struck the vessel, Captain Ripley had been seen to jump for the boom tackle, which he unhitched, and then to spring for the lashings of the dory, which he cut with his knife. The cook also said that he thought the skipper lost his life because of the half-stunning blow that he must have received from the fore-boom while he was on the rail trying to free the dory. The vessel was sinking all the time and it being dark--or near it in the squall--I suppose Captain Ripley could not watch everything. No doubt, it was the fore-boom hit him and knocked him overboard. Certainly he was knocked overboard, and the last seen of him he was swimming and pushing an empty barrel before him to one of the crew. "Keep your nerve up," he called to the cook, and after that he suddenly disappeared. He got a man's death, anyway. We rowed back to the Duncan with the survivors. Nine men gone--it was a hard story to take home with us, but we had it to do. It was all a part of fishing life, and so we put back for Gloucester. XXII ON THE CAPE SHORE While we were into Gloucester, after taking home the crew of the Ruth Ripley, our vessel was put on the ways. That was after a talk between the skipper and Mr. Duncan. There is always something that needs attending to on a fisherman, and this time it was our water-tanks. And while they were being looked after, the Johnnie was overhauled, her bottom scrubbed and topsides painted. Old Mr. Duncan, we found, was beginning to take a lot of pride in our vessel and balked at no expense to have her in trim. And now that the Ripley was lost, he would have only two vessels to represent him in the big fishermen's race, which was then only four weeks away. "Hurry up home now," he said to Maurice as we left the dock that time. "Hurry up, and give yourself plenty of time to tune her up and get her in trim for the race. I've set my heart on it. You or the Lucy Foster must win that race, and whatever else we do we've got to beat Withrow's vessel, anyway." And Miss Foster said that one of her guardian's vessels would have to win the race, and my cousin Nell said that the Johnnie Duncan would have to win. There was a lot depending on it, she said. It meant a lot to Will Somers, I suppose Nell meant. We figured that we had time to make a Cape shore trip, and, with fair luck, to fill the Johnnie with salt mackerel and be back in time to get her in good condition for the race, which this year, because it was anniversary year in Gloucester, promised to be the greatest ever sailed.