also, we would get into the small boat and row around the Snark, and
gloat over her unbelievably wonderful bow.

"Think," I would say to Charmian, "of a gale off the China coast,
and of the Snark hove to, that splendid bow of hers driving into the
storm. Not a drop will come over that bow. She'll be as dry as a
feather, and we'll be all below playing whist while the gale howls."

And Charmian would press my hand enthusiastically and exclaim:
"It's worth every bit of it--the delay, and expense, and worry, and
all the rest. Oh, what a truly wonderful boat!"

Whenever I looked at the bow of the Snark or thought of her water-
tight compartments, I was encouraged. Nobody else, however, was
encouraged. My friends began to make bets against the various
sailing dates of the Snark. Mr. Wiget, who was left behind in
charge of our Sonoma ranch was the first to cash his bet. He
collected on New Year's Day, 1907. After that the bets came fast
and furious. My friends surrounded me like a gang of harpies,
making bets against every sailing date I set. I was rash, and I was
stubborn. I bet, and I bet, and I continued to bet; and I paid them
all. Why, the women-kind of my friends grew so brave that those
among them who never bet before began to bet with me. And I paid
them, too.

"Never mind," said Charmian to me; "just think of that bow and of
being hove to on the China Seas."

"You see," I said to my friends, when I paid the latest bunch of
wagers, "neither trouble nor cash is being spared in making the