THE SKYLARK AND THE SEA FOAM.
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.
"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 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 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."
"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, 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-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 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 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.
"I am satisfied with it," replied Donald. "Everything has been perfectly
fair, and the Skylark has beaten the Sea Foam."
"But you still think the Sea Foam can outsail the Skylark?"
"I think so; but of course I may be mistaken."
"You believe that Ned Patterdale didn't get all her speed out of the Sea
Foam," added the commodore.
"I don't mean to say a word to disparage Ned; but he don't know the Sea
Foam as you do the Skylark."
"There is hardly a particle of difference between the boats."
"I know it; but you have had so much more experience than Ned, that he
ought not to be expected to compete with you. If you will exchange
boats, and you do your best in the Sea Foam, I believe you would beat
your own yacht. I think Ned does first rate for the experience he has
had."
"So do I; but I believe the difference is in the sailing of the boats;
for you may build two yachts as near alike as possible, and one of them
will do better than the other," said Robert Montague.
"I should like to have you sail the Sea Foam against the Skylark, Bob,"
added Donald.
"You don't want me to beat my own boat, if I can--do you, Don John?"
laughed Robert.
"I think you could."
"I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll sail the Skylark against the Sea Foam
this afternoon, and you shall handle Ned's yacht. I have been talking
with him about it, and he agrees to it."
"I'm willing, Bob," replied Donald, eagerly.
"All right."
"I hope Ned don't think hard of me for speaking of this matter," added
Donald. "I wouldn't have uttered a word if this result did not affect
our business."
"I understand it, Don John; and so does Ned. But I think you are making
a mistake; for if the Sea Foam is beaten again by the Skylark,--as I
believe she will be,--it will be all the worse for your firm," laughed
Robert.
"I am willing to run the risk," replied Donald. "If we can't build a
boat as fast as the Skylark, I want to know it."
"But, Don John, you don't expect me to _let_ you beat me--do you?"
"Certainly not, Bob. I hope you will do your very best, and I shall be
satisfied with the result."
It was soon reported over the Penobscot that another race was to be
sailed immediately, and the report created intense excitement when the
circumstances of the affair were explained. Judges were appointed, and
other arrangements concluded. Donald and Ned Patterdale went on board of
the Sea Foam, and Commodore Montague on board of the Skylark. The two
yachts anchored in line, with the Skylark to windward, as she was three
inches longer than the other. The start was to be made at the firing of
the first gun. Donald took his place at the helm of the Sea Foam, and
stationed the hands. He was a little afraid that Ned Patterdale was not
as enthusiastic as he might be; for if his yacht won the race, the
responsibility for the loss of the first prize in the regatta would rest
upon him, and not upon his craft. It would not be so pleasant for him to
know that he had failed, in any degree, as a skipper. The position of
Donald, therefore, was not wholly agreeable; for he did not like to
prove that his friend was deficient in skill, though the future
prosperity of the firm of Ramsay and Son required him to do so.
The wind was even fresher than before, and dark clouds indicated a heavy
rain before night; but Donald did not heed the weather. He stationed Ned
in the standing-room to tend the jib-sheets and mind the centre-board.
Two hands were at the cable, and two more at the jib-halyards.
"Are you all ready forward?" called the skipper _pro tem._ of the Sea
Foam.
"All ready," replied the hands. And Donald waited with intense interest
for the gun.
Bang.
"Let go! Hoist the jib!" cried Donald.
The hands forward worked with a will. The rope was thrown into the
tender, to which the end of it was made fast, and the jib, crackling and
banging in the stiff breeze, now almost a gale, went up in an instant.
"Haul down the lee jib-sheet," said Donald to his companion in the
standing-room. And it is but fair to say that Ned worked as briskly as
the yachtmen at the bow.
The Sea Foam heeled over, as the blast struck her sails, till her rail
went under; but Donald knew just what she would bear, and kept the
tiller stiff in his hand. Stationing Dick Adams at the main sheet behind
him, he placed the others upon the weather side. In a moment more the
yacht came to her bearings, and lying well over, she flew off on her
course. She had made a capital start, and the Skylark was equally
fortunate in this respect. The two yachts went off abeam of each other,
and for half a mile neither gained a hair upon the other. Then commenced
the struggle for the victory. First the Skylark gained a few inches;
then the Sea Foam made half a length, though she immediately lost it;
for in these relative positions, she came under the lee of her opponent.
Again the Skylark forged ahead, and was a length in advance of the Sea
Foam, when the yachts came up with Turtle Head.
"You are losing it, Don John," said Ned, apparently not much displeased
at the result.
"Not yet," replied Donald. "A pull on the main sheet, Dick," added the
skipper, as he put the helm down. "Give her six inches more
centre-board, Ned."
"You will be on the rocks, Don John!" shouted the owner of the yacht, as
the Sea Foam dashed under the stern of the Skylark, and ran in close to
the shore.
"Don't be alarmed, Ned. Haul down the jib-sheet a little more! Steady!
Belay!" said the confident skipper.
By this manoeuvre the Sea Foam gained a position to windward of her
rival; but she ran within half her breadth of beam of the dangerous
rocks, and Ned expected every instant the race would end in a
catastrophe. She went clear, however; for Donald knew just the depth of
water at any time of tide. Both yachts were now under the lee of the
island, and went along more gently than before. It was plain enough now
that the Sea Foam had the advantage. Beyond the Head, and near the
ledge, she was obliged to brace up to the wind, in order to leave the
buoy on the port, as required by the rule. Donald kept her moving very
lively, and when she had made her two tacks, she had weathered the buoy,
and, rounding it, she gybed so near the ledge that the commodore could
not have crawled in between him and the buoy if he had been near enough
to do so. Hauling up the centre-board, and letting off the sheets, the
Sea Foam went for a time before the wind.
When the Skylark had rounded the buoy, and laid her course for Turtle
Head again, she was at least an eighth of a mile astern of her rival.
Donald hardly looked at her, but gazed steadfastly at the sails and the
shore of the island. The sheets had to be hauled in little by little, as
she followed the contour of the land, till at the point below Turtle
Head the yacht had the wind forward of the beam. Then came the home
stretch, and the skipper trimmed his sails, adjusted the centre-board,
and stationed his crew as live weights with the utmost care. It was only
necessary for him to hold his own in order to win the race, and he was
painfully anxious for the result.
[Illustration: DONALD SAILING THE SEA FOAM. Page 166.]
In the Skylark the commodore saw just where he had lost his advantage,
and regretted too late that he had permitted the Sea Foam to get to
windward of him; but he strained every nerve to recover his position.
The wind continued to freshen, and probably both yachts would have done
better with a single reef in the mainsail; but there was no time to
reduce sail. As they passed Turtle Head and came out into the open bay,
the white-capped waves broke over the bows, dashing the spray from
stem to stern. Neither Donald nor Robert flinched a hair, or permitted a
sheet to be started.
"You'll take the mast out of her, Don John," said Ned Patterdale, wiping
the salt water from his face.
"If I do, I'll put in another," replied Donald. "But you can't snap that
stick. The Skylark's mast will go by the board first, and then it will
be time enough to look out for ours."
"You have beaten her, Don John," added Ned.
"Not yet. 'There's many a slip between the cup and the lip.'"
"But you are a quarter of a mile ahead of her, at least. It's blowing a
gale, and we can't carry all this sail much longer."
"She can carry it as long as the Skylark. When she reefs, we will do the
same. I want to show you what the Sea Foam's made of. She is as stiff as
a line-of-battle ship."
"But look over to windward, Don John," exclaimed Ned, with evident
alarm. "Isn't that a squall?"
"No; I think not. It's only a shower of rain," replied Donald. "There
may be a puff of wind in it. If there is, I can touch her up."
"The Skylark has come up into the wind, and dropped her peak," added
Norman, considerably excited.
But Donald kept on. In a moment more a heavy shower of rain deluged the
deck of the Sea Foam. With it came a smart puff of wind, and the skipper
"touched her up;" but it was over in a moment, and the yacht sped on her
way towards the goal. Half an hour later she passed the Penobscot, and a
gun from her saluted the victor in the exciting race. About four minutes
later came the Skylark, which had lost half this time in the squall.