Frank Norwood was the time-keeper, and he stood with his watch in his hand. Each yacht was to pass to windward of the Penobscot, and come round her stern, reporting as she did so. Sam Rodman was to call "time" when the foremast of each yacht was in range with a certain chimney of a house on the main shore. At the word Frank was to give the time, and Donald was to write it down on his schedule. Everything was to be done with the utmost accuracy. The Skylark was rapidly approaching, with the Sea Foam nearly half a mile astern of her. The Phantom and Christabel were not far behind the Sea Foam, while the rest were scattered along all the way over to Turtle Head.

"Ready there!" shouted Donald, as the Skylark came nearly in range of the Penobscot and the chimney.[154]

"All ready," replied Sam Rodman.

The gun forward had been loaded, and a seaman stood at the lock-string, to salute the first boat in.

"Time!" shouted Sam, as the mainsail of the Skylark shut in the chimney on the shore; and the six-pounder awoke the echoes among the hills.

"Twelve, forty, and thirty-two seconds," added Frank, as he took the time from the watch.

"Twelve, forty, thirty-two," repeated Donald, as he wrote it on the schedule.

The crowd on the judges' yacht cheered the commodore as the Skylark rounded the Penobscot, and the ladies waved their handkerchiefs at him with desperate enthusiasm.

"I thought you said the Sea Foam was to beat the Skylark," said Nellie Patterdale.

"I think she may do it yet," replied Donald.

"And Sam's new boat must beat them both, Don John," laughed Maud Rodman.

"Time!" called Sam.

"Twelve, forty-five, two," added Frank.

"Twelve, forty-five, two," repeated Donald, writing down the time.

By this time the Skylark had come about, not[155] by gybing,—for the wind was too heavy to make this evolution in safety,—but had come round head to the wind, and now passed under the stern of the Penobscot.

"Skylark!" reported the commodore.

A few minutes later the Sea Foam did the same. The Phantom came in a minute after the Sea Foam, and for a few moments the judges were very busy taking the time of the next four boats. The Juno did not arrive till half past one, and she was the last one. As fast as the yachts rounded the Penobscot, they went off to the line and picked up their cables and anchors. The captains of the several craft which had sailed in the race then boarded the Penobscot to ascertain the decision of the judges.

"You waxed me badly, Robert," said Ned Patterdale, who was mortified at the defeat of the Sea Foam, though he kept good-natured about it.

"I still think the Skylark can't be beaten by anything of her inches," replied Commodore Montague.

"I am rather disappointed in the Sea Foam," added Ned.

Donald heard this remark, and he was much[156] disturbed by it; for it seemed like a reproach upon the skill of his father, and an imputation upon the reputation of Ramsay and Son. If the yachts built by the "firm" were beaten as badly as the Sea Foam had been, though she had outsailed the Phantom, it would seriously injure the business of the concern. The defeat of the Sea Foam touched the boat-builder in a tender place, and he found it necessary to do something to maintain the standing of the firm. He knew just what the matter was; but under ordinary circumstances he would not have said a word to damage the pride of the present owner of the Sea Foam.

"I am sorry you are not satisfied with her, Ned," said Donald.

"But I expected too much of her; for I thought she was going to beat the Skylark," replied Ned Patterdale. "I think you encouraged me somewhat in that direction, Don John."

"I did; and I still think she can beat the Skylark."

"It's no use to think so; for she has just beaten me four minutes and a half; and that's half a mile in this breeze. Nothing could have been more fairly done."[157]

"It was all perfectly fair, Ned; but you know that winning a race does not depend entirely upon the boat," suggested Donald, hinting mildly at his own theory of the defeat.

"Then you think I didn't sail her well?" said Ned.

"I think you sailed her very well; but it could not be expected that you would do as well with her as Bob Montague with the Skylark, for he has sailed his yacht for months, while you have only had yours a few weeks. This is a matter of business with me, Ned. If our boats are beaten, we lose our work. It is bread and butter to me."

"If it was my fault, I am sorry she was beaten, for your sake, Don John; but I did my best with her," replied Ned, with real sympathy for his friend.

"Of course I am not going to cry over spilt milk."

"Do you really think the Sea Foam can beat the Skylark?"

"I think so; but I may be mistaken. At any rate, I should like the chance to sail the Sea Foam with the Skylark. I don't consider it exactly an even thing between you and the commodore,[158] because he has had so much more experience than you have," replied Donald.

"You believe you can sail the Sea Foam better than I can—do you, Don John?"

"It wouldn't be pleasant for me to say that, Ned."

"But that's what you mean?"

"I have explained the reason why I spoke of this matter at all, Ned. It is bread and butter to me, and I hope you don't think I am vain."

Ned was a little vexed at the remarks of his friend, and rather indignant at his assumed superiority as a boatman. Donald was usually very modest and unpretentious. He was not in the habit of claiming that he could do anything better than another. Generally, in boating matters, when he saw that a thing was done wrong, he refrained from criticising unless his opinion was asked, and was far from being forward in fault-finding. Though he was an authority among the young men in sailing boats, he had not attained this distinction by being a critic and caviller. Ned was therefore surprised, as well as indignant, at the comments and the assumption of Donald; but a little reflection enabled him to see the boat-[159]builder's motive, which was anything but vanity. He had some of this weakness himself, and felt that he had sailed the Sea Foam as well as any one could have done it, and was satisfied that the Skylark was really a faster yacht than his own. The race was plain sailing, with a free wind nearly all the way, and there was not much room for the exercise of superior skill in handling the craft. At least, this was Ned's opinion. If the course had been a dead beat to windward for ten miles, the case would have been different; and Ned had failed to notice that he had lost half the distance between the Skylark and the Sea Foam when he rounded the stake buoy.

It was a fact that among the large party on board the Penobscot, the boats of the firm of Ramsay and Son were just then at a discount, and those of the Newport builders at a corresponding premium. Donald was grieved and vexed, and trembled for the future of the firm of which he was the active representative. But he figured up the results of the race, and when the captains of all the yachts had come on board of the judges' boat, he announced the prizes and delivered them to the winners, with a little speech. The silver[160] vase was given to the commodore, with liberal and magnanimous commendations both of the yacht and her captain. The marine glass was presented to Edward Patterdale, as the winner of the second prize, with some pleasant words, which did not in the least betray the personal discomfiture of the chairman. There was a further ceremony on the quarter-deck of the Penobscot, which was not in the programme, and which was unexpected to all except the officers of the club.

"Captain Laud Cavendish, of the Juno," said the chairman of the judges, who stood on the trunk of the yacht, where all on board, as well as those in the boats collected around her, could see him.

Laud stepped forward, wondering what the call could mean.

"I find, after figuring up the results of the race," continued the chairman, glancing at the schedule he held in his hand, "that you are entitled to the third and last prize. By carefully timing the movements of your excellent craft, and by your superior skill in sailing her, you have contrived to come in—last in the race; and the[161] officers of the club have instructed the judges to award this medal to you. I have the honor and the very great pleasure of suspending it around your neck."

The medal was made of sole leather, about six inches in diameter. Attached to it was a yard of stove-pipe chain, by which it was hung around the neck of the winner of the last prize. A shout of laughter and a round of applause greeted the presentation of the medal. Laud did not know whether to smile or get mad; for he felt like the victim of a practical joke. Miss Nellie Patterdale stood near him, and perhaps her presence restrained an outburst of anger. Mr. Montague, the father of the commodore, had provided a bountiful collation in the cabin of the Penobscot, and the next half hour was given up to the discussion of the repast. Laud tried to make himself agreeable to Nellie, and the poor girl was persecuted by his attentions until she was obliged to break away from him.

"Don John, I am told that everybody is satisfied with this race except you," said Commodore Montague, as the party went on deck after the collation.[162]

"I am satisfied with it,............