Long Steve, who came up this day to pass the time with me aloft, had been telling me about his old home, when we both noticed the topsails of what we knew must be the first of a fleet of big schooner yachts racing to Newport--from New York, no doubt, on one of their ocean races. Steve, of course, had to try to name the leader, while she was yet miles away--seiners have wonderful eyes for vessels--and was still at it, naming the others behind, when the next on watch relieved me and I went below.
The first of the yachts was almost on us when I came down, and Clancy was watching her like a hawk when he turned the wheel over to the next man. She was as about as big as we were. We knew her well. She had been a cup defender and afterwards changed to a schooner rig. Our skipper was taking a nap
