And so it went, and Charmian and I consoled each other by
saying what a splendid boat the Snark was, so staunch and strong;
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.
