It was a beautiful sight when the yachts went off, with the wind only a little abaft the beam. The young gentlemen sailing them were rather excited, and made some mistakes. The Skylark at once took the lead, for Commodore Montague was the most experienced boatman in the fleet. He made no mistakes, and his superior skill was soon evident in the distance between him and the Sea Foam.
The crowd of people on the shore and the judges' yacht watched the contestants till they disappeared beyond Turtle Head. The boats had a free wind both ways, with the exception of a short distance beyond the head, where they had to beat up to Stubb's Point Ledge. There was nothing for the judges to do until the yachts came in, and Donald spent a couple of delightful hours with Nellie Patterdale. Presently the Skylark appeared again beyond the Head, leading the fleet as before. On she drove, like a bolt from an arrow, carrying a big bone in her mouth; and the judges prepared to take her time.
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.
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.