THE FASTEST STEAMBOATS
Two posts, painted white and in line with each other one almost at the river's edge, the other 150 feet back marked the starting line of a measured mile, and were eagerly watched by the men aboard the yacht. She sped toward the starting line as a sprinter dashes for the tape; almost instantly the two posts were in line, the men with watches cried "Time!" and the race was on. Then began such a struggle with Father Time as was never before seen; the wind roared in the ears of the passengers and snatched their words away almost before their lips had formed them; the water, a foam flecked streak, dashed away from the gleaming white sides as if in terror. As the wonderful craft sped on she seemed to settle down to her work as a good horse finds himself and gets into his stride. Faster and faster she went, while the speed of her going swept off the black flume of smoke from her stack and trailed it behind, a dense, low lying shadow. "Look!" shouted one of the men into another's ear, and raised his arm to point. "We're beating the train!" Further on this >> |
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