Remembering these instances of the captain's bounty, Donald had no doubt about the ownership of the sixty dollars in his pocket. The money was his own; but how had he earned it? Was he paid to keep his tongue still, or simply for the service performed? If for his silence, what had the captain done which made him desire to conceal the fact that he had been to the island? The strange man had explicitly denied having killed, robbed, or stolen from anybody. All the skipper could make of it was, that his desire for silence was only a whim of the captain, and he was entirely willing to accommodate him. If there had been any mischief done on the island, he should hear of it; and in that event he would take counsel of some one older and wiser than himself. Then he tried to satisfy himself as to why the captain had walked at least three miles to Turtle Head, instead of waiting till the tide floated the Juno. This appeared to be also a whim of the strange man. People in the city used to say it was no use to ask the reason for anything that Captain Shivernock did. His motive in giving Donald sixty dollars and his boat, which would sell readily for three hundred dollars, and had cost over five hundred, was utterly unaccountable.

Donald was determined not to do anything wrong, and if the captain had committed any evil deed, he fully intended to expose him; but he meant to keep still until he learned that the evil deed had been done. The money in his pocket, and that for which the Juno could be sold, would be capital enough to enable him to carry on the business of boat-building. But he was determined to see Captain Shivernock that very day in regard to the boat. Perhaps the strange man would give him a job to build a centre-board yacht, for he wanted one.

"Hallo! Juno, ahoy!" shouted Laud Cavendish.

Donald threw the boat up into the wind, under the stern of Laud's craft.

"I thought you were going down to Camden," said he. "You won't get there to-day at this rate."

"I forgot some things I wanted, and ran up to Searsport after them. But what are you doing in the Juno, Don John?"

"She's going to be sold, Laud," replied Donald, dodging the direct question. "Didn't you say you wanted to buy a boat?"

"I said so; and I want to buy one badly. I'm going to spend my summer on the water. What does the captain ask for her?"

"I don't know what the price is, but I'll let you know on Monday," added Donald, as he filled away again, for the yacht fleet was now in sight.

"Hold on a minute, Don John; I want to talk with you about her."

"I can't stop now. I have to go up to the Head and measure the yachts."

"Don't say a word to anybody about my buying her," added Laud.

He was soon out of hearing of Laud's voice. He wondered if the swell really wished to buy such a boat as the Juno, and could pay three hundred dollars for her. His father was not a rich man, and he was out of business himself. And he wanted Donald to keep still too. What motive had he for wishing his proposition to be kept in the dark? His object was not apparent, and Donald was obliged to give up the conundrum, though he had some painful doubts on the subject. As he thought of the matter, he turned to observe the position of the two boats to the southward of him. Directly ahead of Laud's craft was an island which he could not weather, and he was obliged to tack. He could not lay his course, and he had to take a short and then a long stretch, and he was now standing across the bay on the short leg. Captain Shivernock had run over towards the Northport shore, and Donald thought they could not well avoid coming within hailing distance of each other. But the Juno passed beyond the north-west point of the island, and he could no longer see them. He concluded, however, that the captain would not let Laud, or any one else, see him afloat that day. He was a very strange man.

Donald ran the Juno around the point, and anchored her under the lee of Turtle Head. The fleet was still a couple of miles distant, and after he had lowered and secured the mainsail, he had nothing to do but examine the fine craft which had so strangely come into his possession. He went into the cuddy forward, and overhauled everything there, till he was fully qualified to set forth the merits of her accommodations to a purchaser. The survey was calculated to kindle his own enthusiasm, for Donald was as fond of boating as any young man in the club. The idea of keeping the Juno for his own use occurred to him, but he resisted the temptation, and determined not even to think of such an extravagant plan.

The yacht fleet was now approaching, the Skylark gallantly leading the way, and the Christabel, with a reef in her mainsail, bringing up the rear. The Sea Foam did not seem to hold her own with the Skylark, as she had done before, but she was the second to drop her anchor under the lee of Turtle Head.

"I cam glad to see you, Don John," said Commodore Montague, as he discovered Donald in the Juno. "I was afraid you were not coming, and I went up to the shop to look for you. But how came you in that boat?"

"She is for sale," replied Donald, as the tender of the Skylark came alongside the Juno, and he stepped into it. "Do you know of anybody that wants to buy her?"

"I know three or four who want boats, but I am not sure the Juno would suit either of them," replied the commodore.

The boat pulled to the shore, and no one asked any more questions about the Juno, or her late owner. The members of the club on board of the several yachts landed, and Donald was soon in earnest conversation with Samuel Rodman.

"What does your father say?" he asked.

"He wants to see you," replied Samuel.

"Does he think I can't do the job?"

"He did not think so at first, but when I told him you would employ one or two regular ship carpenters, he was satisfied, and I think he will give you the job."

"I hope he will, and I am sure I can give him as good work as he can get anywhere."

"I haven't any doubt of it, Don John. But the Sea Foam isn't doing so well as she did the first day you had her out. The Skylark beats her every time they sail."

"Ned Patterdale hasn't got the hang of her yet."

"Perhaps not."

"I should like to have Bob Montague sail her, and Ned the Skylark; I think it would make a difference," added Donald. "Ned does very well, but a skipper must get used to his boat; and he hasn't had much experience in yachts as large as the Sea Foam. I spoke to you of a change in the model for the Maud; and if I'm not greatly mistaken, she will beat both the Sea Foam and the Skylark."

"I would give all my spending-money for a year, over and above the cost, if she would do that," replied Rodman, with a snap of the eye.

"Of course I can't promise that she will do it, but I expect she will," said Donald.

The club assembled under the trees, and the members were called to order by the commodore. The first business was to hear the report of the Regatta Committee, which proved to be a very interesting document to the yachtmen. The race was to take place the next Saturday, and was open to all yachts exceeding twenty feet in length, duly entered before the time. All were to sail in the same class; the first prize was a silver vase, and the second a marine glass. The course was to be from the judge's boat, in Belfast harbor, by Turtle Head, around the buoy on Stubb's Point Ledge, leaving it on the port hand, and back to the starting-point. The sailing regulations already adopted by the club were to be in full force. The report was accepted, and the members looked forward with eager anticipation to what they regarded as the greatest event of the season. Other business was transacted, and Donald, who had brought with him a measuring tape and plummet, measured all the yachts of the club. Dinner was served on board of each craft, and the commodore extended the hospitalities of the Skylark to Donald.

In the afternoon, the fleet made an excursion around Long Island, returning to Belfast about six o'clock, Donald sailing the Juno, and catching a mess of fish off Haddock Ledge. He moored her off the shop, and was rather surprised to find that his own boat had not yet been returned. After supper he hastened to the house of Mr. Rodman, with whom he had a long talk in regard to the building of the Maud. The gentleman had some doubts about the ability of the young boat-builder to do so large a job, though he desired to encourage him.

"I am willing to give you the work, and to pay you the same price your father had for the Sea Foam; but I don't like to pay out money till I know that you are to succeed," said he.

"I don't ask you to do so, sir," replied Donald, warmly. "You need not pay me a cent till you are perfectly satisfied."

"But I supposed you would want money to buy stock and pay your men, even before you had set up your frame."

"No, sir; we have capital enough to make a beginning."

"I am satisfied then, and you shall have the job," added Mr. Rodman.

"Thank you, sir," replied Donald, delighted at his success.

"You may go to work as soon as you please; and the sooner the better, for Samuel is in a great hurry for his yacht."

"I will go to work on Monday morning. The model, moulds, and drawings are all ready, and there will be no delay, sir," answered the young boat-builder, as he took his leave of his considerate patron.

Perhaps Mr. Rodman was not satisfied that the young man would succeed in the undertaking, but he had not the heart to discourage one who was so earnest. He determined to watch the progress of the work very closely, and if he discovered that the enterprise was not likely to be successful, he intended to stop it before much time or money had been wasted. Donald had fully detailed the means at his command for doing the job in a workman-like manner, and he was well known as an ingenious and skilful mechanic. Mr. Rodman had strong hopes that the young man would succeed in his undertaking.

Donald walked toward the house of Captain Shivernock, congratulating himself on the happy issue of his interview with Mr. Rodman. As he passed the book and periodical store, he saw Lawrence Kennedy, a ship carpenter, who had formerly worked with Mr. Ramsay, standing at the door, reading the weekly paper just from the press. This man was out of work, and was talking of going to Bath to find employment. Donald had already thought of him as one of his hands, for Kennedy was a capital mechanic.

"What's the news?" asked Donald, rather to open the way to what he had to say, than because he was interested in the latest intelligence.

"How are you, Donald?" replied the ship carpenter. "There's a bit of news from Lincolnville, but I suppose you heard it; for all the town is talking about it."

"I haven't heard it."

"A man in Lincolnville was taken from his bed in the dead hour of the night, and beaten to a jelly."

"Who was the man?"

"His name was Hasbrook."

"Hasbrook!" exclaimed Donald.

"Do you know him, lad?"

"I know of him; and he has the reputation of being anything but an honest man."

"Then it's not much matter," laughed the ship carpenter.

"But who beat him?" asked Donald.

"No one knows who it was. Hasbrook couldn't make him out; but likely it's some one the rogue has cheated."

"Hasbrook must have seen him," suggested Donald.

"The ruffian was disguised with his head in a bit of a bag, or something of that sort, and he never spoke a word from first to last," added Kennedy, looking over the article in the paper.

Donald wondered if Captain Shivernock had any dealings with Hasbrook. He was just the man to take the law into his own hands, and assault one who had done him a real or a fancied injury. Donald began to think he understood why the captain did not wish it to be known that he was on Long Island the night before. But the outrage had been committed in Lincolnville, which bordered the western arm of Penobscot Bay. It was three miles from the main land to the island. If the captain was in Lincolnville in "the dead of night," on a criminal errand, what was he doing near Seal Harbor, where the Juno was aground, at four o'clock in the morning? If he was the guilty party, he would naturally desire to get home before daylight. The wind was fair for him to do so, and there was enough of it to enable the Juno to make the run in less than two hours. It did not seem probable, therefore, that the captain had gone over to the other side of the bay, three miles off his course. Besides, he was not disguised, but wore his usual gray suit; and Hasbrook ought to have been able to recognize him by his form and his dress even in the darkest night.

Donald was perplexed and disturbed. If there was any probability that Captain Shivernock had committed the crime, our hero was not to be bribed by sixty or six thousand dollars to keep the secret. If guilty, he would have been more likely to go below and turn in than to walk three miles on the island for assistance, and he would not have gone three miles off his course. But Donald determined to inquire into the matter, and do his whole duty, even if the strange man killed him for it. Kennedy was reading his paper while the young man was thinking over the case; but, having decided what to do, he interrupted the ship carpenter again.

"Are you still out of work, Mr. Kennedy?" he asked.

"I am; and I think I shall go to Bath next week," replied Kennedy.

"I know of a job for you."



"Do you, lad? I don't want to move away from Belfast, and I should be glad to get work here. What's the job?"

"We are going to build a yacht of the size of the Sea Foam."

"Who?" inquired the workman.

"My mother and I intend to carry on my father's business."

"And you wish me to manage it for you?"

"No; I intend to manage it myself," added Donald, confidently.

"Well, lad, you are clever enough to do it; and if you are like your father, I shall be glad to work for you."

The wages were agreed upon, and Kennedy promised to be at the shop on Monday morning, to assist the young boat-builder in selecting the stock for the Maud. Donald walked to the house of Captain Shivernock. In the yard he found Sykes, the man who did all sorts of work for his employer, from taking care of the horses up to negotiating mortgages. Donald had occasionally been to the house, and he knew Sykes well enough to pass the time of day with him when they met in the street.

"Is Captain Shivernock at home?" asked the young man, trying to appear indifferent, for he wanted to get as much information in regard to the strange man's movements during the last twenty-four hours as possible.

"No, he is not," replied Sykes, who to some extent aped the manners of his eccentric employer.

"Not at home!" exclaimed Donald, who had not expected this answer, though he had not found his own boat at her moorings on his return from the excursion with the fleet.

"Are you deaf, young man?"

"No, sir; not at all."

"Then you heard me say he was not at home," growled Sykes.

"I want to see him very much. Will he be long away?" asked Donald.

"I can't tell you. He won't come back till he gets ready, if it isn't for a month."

"Of course not; but I should like to know when I can probably see him."

"You can probably see him when he comes home. He started in his boat for Vinal Haven early this morning."

"This morning?" repeated Donald, who wished to be sure on this point.

"Didn't I say so? This morning. He comes back when he pleases."

"When do you expect him?"

"I don't expect him. I never expect him. He may be home in five minutes, in five days, or five weeks."

"At what time this morning did he go?"

"He left the house at five minutes after four this morning, the last that ever was. I looked at my watch when he went out at the gate; for I was thinking whether or no his boat wasn't aground. Do you want to know what he had for breakfast? If you do, you must ask my wife, for I don't know," growled Sykes.

"I am very anxious to see him," continued Donald, without heeding the sulky tones and manner of the man. "Perhaps he told Mrs. Sykes when he should return."

"Perhaps he did, and perhaps he told her how much money he had in his pocket. He was as likely to tell her one as the other. You can ask her," sneered Sykes.

As the housekeeper sat on the piazza enjoying the cool evening breeze, Donald decided to avail himself of this permission, for he desired to know how well the two stories would agree. He saluted the lady, who gave him a pleasanter reception than her bearish husband had accorded to him.

"Mr. Sykes told me that Captain Shivernock was away from home," said Donald. "Can you tell me when he is likely to return?"

"He intended to come back to-night if the wind favored him. He went to Vinal Haven early this morning, and as you are a sailor, you can tell better than I whether he is likely to return to-night," replied Mrs. Sykes.

"The wind is fair, and there is plenty of it," added Donald. "What time did he leave?"

"About four o'clock. I gave him his coffee at half past three, and it must have been about four when he went away."

If the outrage at Lincolnville had been committed in "the dead of the night," it was perfectly evident to Donald that Captain Shivernock had had nothing whatever to do with it. This conclusion was a great relief to the mind of the young man; but he had hardly reached it before the captain himself passed through the gate, and fixed a searching gaze upon him, as though he regarded him as an interloper.



CHAPTER VII.

LAYING DOWN THE KEEL.

"What are you doing here, Don John?" demanded Captain Shivernock, as he ascended the steps of the piazza.

"I came to see you, sir," replied Donald, respectfully.

"Well, you see me—don't you?"

"I do, sir."

"Have you been talking to Sykes and his wife?" asked the captain, sternly.

"I have, sir."

"Have you told them that you saw me on the island?"

"No, sir; not them, nor anybody else."

"It's well for you that you haven't," added the captain, shaking his head—a significant gesture, which seemed to relate to the future, rather than to the present. "If you lisp a syllable of it, you will need a patch on your skull.—Now," he continued, "what do you want of me?"

"I wanted to talk about the Juno with you. Perhaps I can find a customer for you."

"Come into the house," growled the captain, as he stalked through the door.

Donald followed him into a sitting-room, on one side of which was a secretary, provided with a writing-desk. The captain tossed his cap and overcoat into a chair, and seated himself at the desk. He picked up a quill pen, and began to write as though he intended to scratch a hole through the paper, making noise enough for a small locomotive. He finished the writing, and signed his name to it. Then he cast the contents of a sand-box upon it, returning to it the portion which did not adhere to the paper. The document looked as though it had been written with a handspike, or as though the words had been ploughed in, and a furrow of sand left to form the letters.

"Here!" said the captain, extending the paper to his visitor, with a jerk, as though he was performing a most ungracious office.

"What is it, sir?" asked Donald, as he took the document.

"Can't you read?" growled the strange man.

Under ordinary circumstances Donald could read—could read writing when not more than half the letters were merged into straight lines; but it required all his skill, and not a little of his Scotch-Yankee guessing ability, to decipher the vagrant, staggering characters which the captain had impressed with so much force upon the paper. It proved to be a bill of sale of the Juno, in due form, and for the consideration of three hundred dollars.

"Surely you cannot mean this, Captain Shivernock?" exclaimed the amazed young man.

"Can't I? Do you think I'm a lunatic?" stormed the captain.

Donald did think so, but he was not so imprudent as to say it.

"I can't pay you three hundred dollars for the boat," pleaded he.

"Nobody asked you to pay a red cent. The boat is yours. If you don't want her, sell her to the first man who is fool enough to buy her. That's all."

"I'm very grateful to you for your kindness, Captain Shivernock; and I hope—"

"All stuff!" interposed the strange man, savagely. "You are like the rest of the world, and next week you would be as ready to kick me as any other man would be, if you dared to do so. You needn't stop any longer to talk that sort of bosh to me. It will do for Sunday Schools and prayer meetings."

"But I am really—"

"No matter if you are really. Shut up!"

"I hope I shall be able to do something to serve you."

"Bah!"

"Have you heard the news, Captain Shivernock?" asked Donald, suddenly changing the topic.

"What news?"

"It's in the Age. A man over in Lincolnville, by the name of Hasbrook, was taken out of his bed last night, and severely beaten."

"Hasbrook! Served him right!" exclaimed the captain, with a rough string of profanity, which cooled the blood of the listener. "He is the biggest scoundrel in the State of Maine, and I am much obliged to the man who did it. I would have taken a hand with him at the game, if I had been there."



This was equivalent to saying that he was not there.

"Do you know this Hasbrook?" asked Donald.

"Do I know him? He swindled me out of a thousand dollars, and I ought to know him. If the man that flogged him hasn't finished him, I'll pound him myself when I catch him in the right place," replied the strange man, violently. "Who did the job, Don John?"

"I don't know, sir. He hasn't been discovered yet."

"If he is discovered, I'll give him five hundred dollars, and pay the lawyers for keeping him out of jail. I wish I had done it myself; it would make me feel good."

Donald was entirely satisfied that Captain Shivernock had not done it. He was pleased, even rejoiced, that his investigation had resulted so decidedly in the captain's favor, for he would have been very sorry to feel obliged to disregard the injunction of secrecy which had been imposed upon him.

"Did you fall in with any one after we parted this morning?" asked Donald, who desired to know whether the captain had met Laud Cavendish when the two boats appeared to be approaching each other.

"None of your business!" rudely replied the captain, after gazing a moment into the face of the young man, as if to fathom his purpose in asking the question. "Do you think the world won't move on if you don't wind it up? Mind your own business, and don't question me. I won't have anybody prying into my affairs."

"Excuse me, sir; I don't wish to pry into your affairs; and with your permission I will go home now," replied Donald.

"You have my permission to go home," sneered the strange man; and Donald availed himself of it without another instant's delay.

Certainly Captain Shivernock was a very strange man, and Donald could not begin to understand why he had given him the Juno and the sixty dollars in cash. It was plain enough that he had not been near Hasbrook's house, though it was not quite clear how, if he left home at four o'clock, he had got aground eight miles from the city at the same hour; but there was probably some error in Donald's reckoning. The young man went home, and, on the way, having assured himself, to his own satisfaction, that he had no painful duty in regard to the captain to perform, he soon forgot all about the matter in the more engrossing consideration of his great business enterprise. When he entered the cottage, his mother very naturally asked him where he had been; and he gave her all the details of his interview with Mr. Rodman. Mrs. Ramsay was more cheerful than she had been before since the death of her husband, and they discussed the subject till bed time. Donald had seventy-two dollars in his pocket, including his fees for measuring the yachts. It was a new experience for him to keep anything from his mother; but he felt that he could not honorably tell her what had passed between the captain and himself. He could soon work the money into his business, and he need keep it only till Monday. He did not feel just right about it, even after he had convinced himself that he ought not to reveal Captain Shivernock's secret to her; but I must add, confidentially, that it is always best for boys—I mean young men—to tell their mothers "all about it;" and if Donald had done so in this instance, no harm would have come of the telling, and it might have saved him a great deal of trouble, and her a great deal of anxiety, and a great many painful doubts. Donald thought his view was correct; he meant to do exactly right; and he had the courage to do it, even if thereby he incurred the wrath and the vengeance of the strange man.

I have no doubt, from what indications I have of the character of Donald Ramsay, that he tried to learn his Sunday School lesson, tried to give attention to the sermons he heard, and tried to be interested in the good books he essayed to read on Sunday; but I am not sure that he succeeded entirely, for the skeleton frame of the Maud would rise up in his imagination to cloud the vision of higher things, and the remembrance of his relations with Captain Shivernock would thrust itself upon him. Yet it is a great deal even to try to be faithful in one's thoughts, and Donald was generally more successful than on this occasion, for it was not often that he was excited by events so stirring and prospects so brilliant. A single week would be time enough to accustom the young boat-builder to his occupation and restore his mental equilibrium.

The light of Monday morning's sun was very welcome to him; and when only its light gleamed in the gray east, he rose from his bed to begin the labors of the day. His father had enlarged the shop, so that he could build a yacht of the size of the Maud under its roof; and before breakfast time, he had prepared the bed, and levelled the blocks on which the keel was to rest. At seven o'clock Lawrence Kennedy appeared, and together they looked over the stock on hand, and made out a list of the pieces of timber and plank that would be required. At first the journeyman was inclined to take the lead in the business; but he soon found that his youthful employer was entirely familiar with the minutest details of the work, and knew precisely how to get out every stick of the frame. Donald constantly referred to the model of the Sea Foam, which he had already altered in accordance with the suggestions of his father, using the inch scale on which the model was projected, to get the size of the pieces, so that there should be no unnecessary waste in buying.

Kennedy went with him to the lumber wharf, where the stock was carefully selected for the frame. Before dinner it was carted over to the shop, and in the afternoon the work was actually commenced. The keelson, with the aperture for the centre-board nicely adjusted, was laid down, levelled, and blocked up, so that the yacht should be as true as a hair when completed. The next steps were to set up the stern-post and the stem-piece, and Mr. Ramsay's patterns of these timbers were ready for use. Donald was tired enough to rest when the clock struck six; but no better day's work for two men could be shown than that performed by him and his journeyman. Another hand could now work to advantage on the frame, and Kennedy knew of a first-rate workman who desired employment. He was requested to have him in the shop the next morning.

After supper, Donald went back to the shop to study, rather than to work. He seated himself on the bench, and was thinking over the details of the work, when, through the window, he saw Laud Cavendish run his sail-boat alongside the Juno, which was moored a short distance from the shore. Laud wanted to buy a boat, and Donald wanted to sell one. More than once he had been tempted to keep the Juno for his own use; but he decided that he could not afford such a luxury, even though she had cost him nothing. If he kept her, he would desire to use her, and he might waste too much of his precious time in sailing her. It would cost money as well as time to keep her; for boats are always in need of paint, spars, sails, rigging, and other repairs. He was resolute in his purpose to dispose of the Juno, lest the possession of her should demoralize him, and interfere with his attention to business.

It was plain enough to Donald that he must sell the Juno, though it was not as clear that Laud Cavendish could buy her; but he decided to see him, and, launching his tender, he pulled out for the Juno. While he was plying his oars, it suddenly came across the mind of the young boat-builder that he could not sell this boat without exposing his relations to Captain Shivernock. He was rather startled by the thought, but, before he had followed it out to a conclusion, the tender was alongside the Juno.

"How are you, Don John?" said Laud. "I thought I would come down and look over the Juno."

"She is a first-rate boat," replied Donald.

"And the captain wants to sell her?"

"She's for sale," replied her owner.

"What's the price of her?"

"Four hundred."

"That's too steep, Don John. It is of no use for me to look at her if the captain won't sell her for less than that."

"Say three fifty, then," replied Donald.

"Say three hundred."

"She is worth more money," continued the owner, as he unlocked the cuddy. "She has a fine cabin, fitted up like a parlor. Go in and look round."

Donald led the way, and pointed out all the conveniences of the cabin, eloquently setting forth the qualities of the boat and her accommodations.

"I'll give three hundred for her," said Laud.

"She is worth more than that," replied Donald. "Why, she cost the captain over five hundred; and I wouldn't build her for a mill less than that."

"You?" laughed Laud.

"I'm building a yacht thirty feet long for Sam Rodman; and I'm to have twelve hundred for her," answered Donald, struggling to be modest.

"You are some punkins—ain't you, Don John?"

"I can't quite come up to you, Mr. Cavendish."

"Perhaps you will when you are as old as I am."

"Possibly; but it's a big height to reach in two years. A man of your size ought not to haggle for fifty dollars on a boat."

"I can't afford to give more than three hundred for the Juno," protested Laud, very decidedly.

"Can you afford to give that?" asked Donald, with a smile.

Laud looked at him sharply, and seemed to be somewhat embarrassed.

"I suppose I can't really afford it; but what's life for? We can't live it over again, and we ought to make the best of it. Don't you think so?"

"Certainly—the best of it; but there may be some difference of opinion in regard to what the best of it may be."

"I mean to be a gentleman, and not a philosopher. I go in for a good time. Will you take three hundred for the boat? or will you tell the captain I will give that?"

"I can sell her without going to him. I haven't offered her to anybody but you, and I have no doubt I can get my price for her."

Laud talked till it was nearly dark; but Donald was firm, and at last he carried his point.

"I will give the three hundred and fifty, because I want her very badly; but it's a big price," said Laud.

"It's dog cheap," added Donald, who was beginning to think how he should manage the business without informing the purchaser that the Juno was his own property.

Donald was a young man of many expedients, and he finally decided to ask Captain Shivernock to exchange the bill of sale for one conveying the boat directly to Laud Cavendish. This settled, he wondered how Laud expected to pay for his purchase, for it was utterly incredible to him that the swell could command so large a sum as three hundred and fifty dollars. After all, perhaps it would not be necessary to trouble the captain about the business, for Donald did not intend to give a bill of sale without the cash.

"When do you want to close the trade?" he asked.

"I thought we had closed it," replied Laud.

"You want a bill of sale—don't you?"

"No, I don't; I would rather not have one. When I get the boat, I know how to keep her. Besides, you will be a witness that I have bought her."

"That isn't the way to do business," protested Donald.

"If I'm satisfied, you need not complain. If I pay you the cash down, that ends the matter."

"If you do."

"Well, I will; here and now," added Laud, pulling out his wallet.

"Where did you get so much money, Laud?" asked Donald.

It was doubtless an impertinent question, but it came from the heart of him who proposed it; and it was not resented by him to whom it was put. On the contrary, Laud seemed to be troubled, rather than indignant.

"Don John, you are a good fellow," said Laud, after a long pause.

"Of course I am."

"For certain reasons of my own, I want you to keep this trade to yourself."

"Why so?"

"I can't tell you."

"Then I won't do it. If there is any hitch about the money, I won't have anything to do with it."

"Any hitch? What do you mean by that?" demanded Laud, with a lofty air.

"It's no use to mince the matter, Laud. Three hundred and fifty dollars don't grow on every bush in your or my garden; and I have been wondering, all the time, where a fellow like you should get money enough to buy a boat like the Juno."

Donald said all this fairly and squarely; but it occurred to him just then, that after he had sold the boat, any one might ask him the same question, and he should not feel at liberty to answer it.

"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Laud.

"Nothing of the sort; and you needn't ride that high horse. I won't sell the boat till I know where the money came from."

"Do you doubt my honor?"

"Confound your honor! I think we have said enough."

"If you mean to say that I didn't come honorably by my money, you are mistaken."

"Where did you get it, then?"

"Are you always willing to tell where you get every dollar in your pocket?" retorted Laud.

That was a home-thrust, and Donald felt it in his trowsers pocket, where he kept his wallet.

"I am generally ready to tell where I get my money," he replied, but he did not speak with much energy.

Laud looked about him, and seemed to be considering the matter.

"I don't like to be accused of stealing," mused he.

"I don't accuse you of anything," added Donald.

"It's the same thing. If I tell you where I got this money, will you keep it to yourself?" asked Laud.

"If it's all right I will."

"Honor bright, Don John?"

"If it's all right."

"O, it is!" protested Laud. "I will tell you; but you must keep the secret, whatever happens."

"I will, if everything is as it should be."

"Well, Captain Shivernock gave it to me," said Laud, in confidential tones, and after looking about to satisfy himself that no third person was within hearing.

"Captain Shivernock!" exclaimed Donald.

"Just so."

"What for?"

"I can't tell you any more. The captain would kill me if he found out that I had told you so much," answered Laud. "I don't understand the matter myself; but the captain gave me that money and fifty dollars more;" and he handed Donald the price of the Juno. "You are not to say that I have even seen the captain."

"When was this?"

"Last Saturday; but that's all; not another word from me."

"It's very odd," mused Donald.

"You will keep still—won't you?"

"Yes; until I am satisfied the thing is not all right."

"I shall not say that I own the Juno yet a while," added Laud, as he returned to the boat in which he had come.

Donald pulled ashore, with the money in his pocket.



CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIRST REGATTA.

Donald was not disposed to doubt the truth of Laud Cavendish's story, for the circumstances were precisely the same as those under which he had received the boat and the money from Captain Shivernock. If he had had no experience with the eccentric shipmaster himself, he would have doubted the whole explanation, and refused to take the money. He recalled the events of Saturday. The last he saw of Laud, on that day, was when he ran his boat over towards the Northport shore, whither the captain had gone before him. He had lost sight of both their boats at a time when it seemed very probable that they would meet. After what Laud had just said to him, and with the money he had paid him in his pocket, he was confident they had met. The strange man had purchased the silence of Laud, as he had his own, and at about the same price.

Donald realized that Captain Shivernock had thrown away about seven hundred dollars that morning, and, as he thought of it, he was amazed at his conduct; but the captain did not mind paying a thousand dollars any time to gratify the merest whim. The young man tried again to fathom the motive of his eccentric but liberal patron in thus throwing away such large sums, unnecessarily large, to accomplish his object. The Lincolnville outrage was the only possible solution; but if he were the ruffian, he would not have been on Long Island when he had a fair wind to run home, and Sykes and his wife both agreed that he had left the house on the morning that Donald had seen him. It was not possible, therefore, that the captain was guilty of the outrage. Laud had paid him seven fifty dollar bills, and he had over four hundred dollars in his pocket. He did not know what to do with it, and feeling that he had come honestly by it, he was vexed at the necessity of concealing it from his mother; but he was determined to pay it out, as occasion required, for stock and hardware for the yacht he was building. When he went to his chamber, he concealed three hundred and fifty dollars of the money in a secret place in the pine bureau in which his clothes were kept.

The next morning Kennedy appeared with the man he was authorized to employ, and the chips flew briskly in the shop all that day. At noon Donald went to the wharf where he had bought his stock, and paid the bill for it. The lumber dealer commended his promptness, and offered to give him credit for any lumber he might need; but Donald proudly declared that he should pay cash for all he bought, and he wanted the lowest cash prices. On his return to the shop, he entered, in the account-book his father had kept, the amount he had expended. The work went bravely on, for his two journeymen were interested in his success. They were glad to get employment, and desired that the young boat-builder should not only build a fine yacht, but should make money by the job. The stem-piece and stern-post were set up, and gradually the frame began to assume the shape of a vessel. Donald watched the forming of the yacht very carefully, and saw that everything was done according to the model and the scale.

On Saturday morning Mr. Rodman, accompanied by a friend who was a ship-builder, visited the shop to inspect the work. The frame, so far as it had been set up, was carefully examined, and the expert cordially approved all that had been done, declaring that he had never seen a better job in his life. Of course Donald was proud of this partial success.

"I have had some doubts, Don John," laughed Mr. Rodman; "but I am entirely satisfied now."

"Thank you, sir. I have had no doubts; I could see that frame in my mind as plainly before a stick had been touched as I do now."

"You have done well, and I am quite sure that you will make a yacht of it. Now, if you will give me a receipt for one hundred dollars, I will let you have so much towards the price of the Maud, for I suppose you want to pay your men off to-night."

"I have money enough, sir, to pay my men, and I don't ask you for any money yet," replied the young boat-builder.

"But I prefer to pay you as the work progresses."

Donald did not object, and wrote the receipt. He was a minor, and his mother, who was the administratrix of her husband's estate, was the responsible party in the transaction of business; but he did not like to sign his mother's name to a receipt, and thus wholly ignore himself, and, adopting a common fiction in trade, he wrote, "Ramsay and son," which he determined should be the style of the firm. Ramsay might mean his father or his mother, and he had already arranged this matter with her. Mr. Rodman laughed at the signature, but did not object to it, and Donald put the money in his pocket, after crediting it on the book.

This was the day appointed for the first regatta of the Yacht Club. The coming event had been talked about in the city during the whole week, not only among the boys, but among the men who were interested in yachting. About a dozen yachts had been entered for the race, though only four of them belonged to the club; those that were not enrolled being nominally in charge of members, in order to conform to the regulations. Donald had measured all these boats, and made a schedule of them, in which appeared the captain's name, the length of the craft, with the correction to be subtracted from the sailing time in order to reduce it to standard time. There were columns in the table for the starting time, the return time, and the sailing time. The "correction" was virtually the allowance which a large yacht made to a smaller one for the difference in length.

The club had adopted the regulation of the Dorchester Yacht Club, which contained a "table of allowance per mile." In this table, a yacht one hundred and ten feet six inches long, is taken as the standard for length. The Skylark was just thirty feet long on the water-line, and her allowance by the table was two minutes forty-three and four tenths seconds for every mile sailed in a regatta. The Sea Foam's length was three inches less, and her allowance was one and three tenths seconds more. Donald had his table all ready for the use of the judges, of whom he had been appointed the chairman. Mr. Montague's large yacht had been anchored in the bay, gayly dressed with flags and streamers, to be used as the judges' boat. The yachts were to start at ten o'clock.

"I don't want to leave my work a bit," said Donald, as he took off his apron. "I may have to lose a whole day in the race, and I can't afford it."

"Now, I think you can," replied Kennedy.

"It looks too much like boys' play."

"No matter what it is. If you are going to make a business of building yachts and sail-boats, it is for your interest to encourage this sort of thing all you can," added Kennedy.

"I think you are right there," answered Donald, who had not before taken this view.

"Besides, you ought to see how the boats work. You will get some ideas that will be of use to you. You should observe every movement of the boats with the utmost care. I think you will make more money attending the regattas, if there was one every week, than by working in the shop."

"You are right, Kennedy, and I am glad you expressed your opinions, for I shall feel that I am not wasting my time."

"Your father has been to Newport and New York on purpose to attend regattas, and I am sure, if he were here now, he would not miss this race for a fifty-dollar bill," continued the workman.

Donald was entirely satisfied, and went into the house to dress for the occasion. He was soon ready, and walked down the beach towards the skiff he used to go off to the sail-boat. The sky was overcast, and the wind blew a smashing breeze, promising a lively race. The Juno had been entered for the regatta, but she was still at her moorings off the shop, and Donald wondered where Laud was, for he had been very enthusiastic over the event. Before he could embark, the new proprietor of the Juno appeared. He was dressed in a suit of new clothes, wore a new round-top hat, and sported a cane in his hand. His mustache had been freshly colored, and every hair was carefully placed. He did not look like a yachtman; more like a first-class swell.

"I have been all the morning looking for some fellows to sail with me," said Laud. "I can't find a single one. Won't you go with me, Don John?"

"Thank you; I am one of the judges, and I can't go," replied Donald, who, if he had not been engaged, would have preferred to sail with some more skilful and agreeable skipper than Laud Cavendish.

"Won't your men go with me?"

"I don't know; you can ask them."

"I am entitled to carry five, and I want some live weights to-day, for it is blowing fresh," added Laud, as he walked towards the shop.

Neither of Donald's men was willing to lose his time, and as Laud came out of the shop, he discovered a young lady walking up the beach towards the city. A gust of wind blew her hat away at this moment, and Mr. Cavendish gallantly ran after, and recovered it, as Donald would have done if he had not been anticipated, for he recognized the young lady as soon as he saw her. Even as it was, he was disposed to run after that hat, and dispute the possession of it with Mr. Laud Cavendish, for the owner thereof was Miss Nellie Patterdale.

"Allow me to return your truant hat, Miss Patterdale," said Laud.

"Thank you, Mr. Cavendish," replied Nellie, rather coldly, as she resumed her walk towards the place where Donald stood, a few rods farther up the beach.

"We have a fine breeze for the race, Miss Patterdale," added Laud, smirking and jerking, as though he intended to improve the glorious opportunity, for the young lady was not only bewitchingly pretty, but her father was a nabob, with only two children.

"Very fine, I should think," she answered; and her tones and manner were anything but encouraging to the aspirant.

"I hope you are going to honor the gallant yachtmen with your presence, Miss Patterdale."

"I shall certainly see the race.—Good morning, Don John," said she, when she came within speaking distance of Donald.

"Good morning, Nellie," replied he, blushing, as he felt the full force of her glance and her smile—a glance and a smile for which Laud would have sacrificed all he held dear in the world, even to his cherished mustache. "Don't you attend the race?"

"Yes, I want to attend now. Ned invited me to go on board of the judge's boat; but the sun was out then, and mother would not let me go. Father said the day would be cloudy, and I decided to go; but Ned had gone. I came down here to see if I couldn't hail him. Won't you take me off to the Penobscot in your boat?"

"Certainly I will, with the greatest pleasure," replied Donald, with enthusiasm.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Patterdale," interposed Laud. "I am going off in the Juno; allow me to tender her for your use. I can take you off, Don John, at the same time."

"It's quite rough; as you see, Nellie, and the Juno is much larger than my boat. You can go in her more comfortably than in mine," added Donald.

"Thank you; just as you please, Don John," she answered.

"Bring her up to the wharf, Mr. Cavendish," continued Donald.

Laud leaped into his skiff, and pulled off to the Juno, while Nellie and Donald walked around to the wharf. In a few moments the boat was ready, and came up to the pier, though her clumsy skipper was so excited at the prospect of having the nabob's pretty daughter in his boat, that he had nearly smashed her against the timbers. The gallant skipper bowed, and smirked, and smiled, as he assisted Miss Patterdale to a place in the standing-room. Donald shoved off the bow, and the Juno filled her mainsail, and went off flying towards the Penobscot.

"It's a smashing breeze," said Donald, as the boat heeled down.

"Glorious!" exclaimed Laud. "Are you fond of sailing, Miss Patterdale?"

"I am very fond of it."

"Perhaps you would like to sail around the course in one of the yachts?" suggested the skipper.

"I should be delighted to do so," she replied, eagerly; and she glanced at Donald, as if to ascertain if such a thing were possible.

"I should be pleased to have you sail in the Juno," added Laud, with an extra smirk.

"Thank you, Mr. Cavendish; you are very kind; but perhaps I had better not go."

"I should be delighted to have you go with me."

"I don't think you would enjoy it, Nellie," said Donald. "It blows fresh, and the Juno is rather wet in a heavy sea."

Laud looked at him with an angry expression, and when Nellie turned away from him, he made significant gestures to induce Donald to unsay what he had said, and persuade her to go with him.

"I am sure you will be delighted with the sail, Miss Patterdale. You will be perfectly dry where you are sitting; or, if not, I have a rubber coat, which will protect you."

"I think I will not go," she replied, so coldly that her tones would have frozen any one but a simpleton like Laud.

The passage was of brief duration, and Donald assisted Nellie up the accommodation steps of the Penobscot, stepping forward in season to deprive Laud of this pleasant office.

"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Cavendish," said she, walking away from the steps.

"That was mean of you, Don John," muttered Laud, as Donald came down the steps to assist in shoving off the Juno.

"What was mean?"

"Why, to tell Nellie she would not enjoy the sail with me."

"She could do as she pleased."

"But you told her the Juno was wet," added Laud, angrily.

"She is wet when it blows."

"No matter if she is. It was mean of you to say anything about it, after all I have done for you."

"It wasn't mean to tell the truth, and save her from a ducking, and I don't know what you have done for me."

"You don't? Didn't I buy this boat of you, and pay you fifty dollars more than she is worth?"

"No, you didn't. But if you are dissatisfied with your bargain, I will take her off your hands."

"You! I want the money I paid."

"You shall have it. Come to the shop after the race, and you may throw up the trade."

"Will Captain Shivernock pay you back the money?" sneered Laud.

"I'll take care of that, if you want to give her up," added Donald, warmly.

"Never mind that now. Can't you persuade Nellie to sail with me?" continued Laud, more gently. "If you will, I will give you a five-dollar bill."

Donald would have given double that sum rather than have had her go with him, and she would have given ten times the amount to avoid doing so.

"I can't persuade her, for I don't think it is best for her to go," replied Donald.

"No matter what you think. You are a good fellow, Don John: do this for me—won't you? It would be a great favor, and I shall never forget it."

"Why do you want her to go with you?" demanded Donald, rather petulantly. "A yacht in a race is no place for ladies. I can find some fellows on board here who will be glad to go with you."

"But I want her to go with me. The fact of it is, Don John, I rather like Nellie, and I want to be better acquainted with her."

"If you do, you must paddle your own canoe," replied Donald, indignantly, as he ascended the steps, and joined the other two judges on deck.

"We are waiting for you, Don John," said Sam Rodman, who was one of them.

"It isn't ten yet, and I have the papers all ready. Who is to be time-keeper?" asked the chairman.

"I have a watch with a second hand, and I will take that office," said Frank Norwood, who was the third.

Most of the yachts were already in line, and the captain of the fleet, in the tender of his yacht, was arranging them, the largest to windward. The first gun had been fired at half past nine which was the signal to get into line, and at the next, the yachts were to get under way. All sail except the jib was set, and at the signal each craft was to slip her cable, hoist her jib, if she had one, and get under way, as quickly as possible. The "rode" was simply to be cast off, for the end of it was made fast to the tender, which was used as a buoy for the anchor.

"Are they all ready?" asked Donald, as the time drew near.

"All but the Juno. Laud has picked up two live weights, and wants another man," replied Sam Rodman.

"We won't wait for him."

But Laud got into line in season. One of the seamen of the Penobscot stood at the lock-string of the gun forward, ready to fire when the chairman of the judges gave the word.

"Have your watch ready, Frank," said Donald.

"All ready," answered Norwood.

"Fire!" shouted Donald.

Some of the ladies "squealed" when the gun went off, but all eyes were immediately directed to the yachts. The Christabel, with a reef in her fore and main sails, was next to the Penobscot; then came the Skylark, the Sea Foam, and the Phantom. Before the gun was fired, the captain had stationed a hand in each yacht at the cable, and others at the jib-halyards and down-hauls. The instant the gun was discharged, the jibs were run up, and the "rodes" thrown overboard. Some of the yachts, however, were unfortunate, and did not obtain a good start. In one the jib down-haul fouled, and another ran over her cable, and swamped her tender. The conflict was believed to be between the Skylark and the Sea Foam, for there was too much wind for the Christabel, which was the fastest light-weather craft in the line.

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.



CHAPTER IX.

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.



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.



CHAPTER X.

THE LAUNCH OF THE MAUD.

The heavy rain had driven nearly all the people on board of the Penobscot below, but the judges, clothed in rubber coats, kept the deck, in readiness to take the time of the rival yachts. After the squall, the weather was so thick that both of them were hidden from view. The craft not in the race had anchored near the Penobscot, and on board of all the yachts the interest in the result was most intense.

"I'm afraid it will be no race," said Sam Rodman, who was now the chairman of the judges.

"The commodore will put the Skylark through, whatever the weather," replied Frank Norwood.

"Don John will keep the Sea Foam flying as long as Bob runs the Skylark, you may depend."

"It was quite a little squall that swept across the bay just now," added Rodman. "I hope no accident has happened to them."

"I'll risk the accidents. I would give a dollar to know which one was ahead."

"Not much doubt on that point."

"I think there is. Don John generally knows what he is about. He don't very often say what he can do, but when he does, he means it."

"The commodore is too much for him."

"Perhaps he is, but I have hopes of the Sea Foam. Don John is building the Maud for me, and I have some interest in this race. I don't want a yacht that is to be beaten by everything in the fleet. If the Skylark is too much for the Sea Foam, the chance of the Maud won't be much better."

The judges discussed the merits of the two yachts for half an hour longer, and there was as much difference of opinion among them as among the rest of the spectators of the race.

"There's one of them!" shouted Frank Norwood, as the Sea Foam emerged from the cloud of mist which accompanied the rain.

"Which is it?" demanded Rodman.

"I can't make her out," replied Norwood, for the yacht was over a mile distant.

"But where is the other? One of them is getting badly beaten," added Rodman.

"That must be the Skylark we see."

"I don't believe it is. It is so thick we can't make her out, but her sails look very white. I think it is the Sea Foam."

"There's the other!" exclaimed Norwood, as the Skylark was dimly perceived in the distance.

"She is half a mile astern. It is a bad beat for one of them."

"That's so; and if it is the Sea Foam, I shall want to throw up the contract for the Maud," said Rodman.

"There is one thing about it; both of those craft are good sea boats, and if they can carry whole jib and mainsail in this blow, they are just the right kind of yachts for me. I like an able boat, even if she don't win any prizes. Give me a stiff boat before a fast one."

"I should like to have mine both stiff and fast."

"Look at the Christabel. She went round the course with a reef in the fore and main sails, and was beaten at that," added Norwood. "Here comes the head boat. It is the Skylark, as sure as you live."

"Not much, Frank. Do you see her figure-head? Is it a bird?" demanded Rodman, triumphantly.

"It isn't; that's a fact."

"That's the Sea Foam fast enough."

This was exciting news, and Sam Rodman walked rapidly to the companion-way of the Penobscot.

"Yachts in sight!" shouted he to the people below.

"Which is ahead?" asked Mr. Montague.

"The Sea Foam," replied Rodman.

"I'm so glad!" exclaimed Miss Nellie Patterdale.

Mr. Montague and Captain Patterdale only laughed, but they were sufficiently interested to go on deck in spite of the pouring rain, and they were followed by many others.

"Time!" shouted Sam Rodman, as the gun was fired.

"Four, thirty-two, ten," added Frank Norwood; and the figures were entered upon the schedule.

The Sea Foam passed the judges' yacht, came about, and went under her stern.

"The Sea Foam," shouted Donald.

Though the spectators were not all satisfied with the result, they gave three cheers to the victorious yacht, magnanimously led off by Mr. Montague himself.

"Time!" called Sam, as the Skylark came into the range of the chimney on shore.

"Four, thirty-six, twelve," said Norwood.

The Skylark came about, and passed under the stern of the Penobscot, reporting her name. The judges went below, and figured out the result, by which it appeared that the Sea Foam had beaten the Skylark, after the correction for the three inches' difference in length, by three minutes fifty-nine and four tenths seconds.

Donald was the first to come on board of the Penobscot, and was generously congratulated on his decisive victory, especially by Mr. Montague, the father of the commodore. Robert followed him soon after, and every one was curious to know what he would say and do.

"Don John, you have beaten me," exclaimed he, grasping the hand of Donald. "You have done it fairly and handsomely, and I am ready to give up the first prize to the Sea Foam."

The party in the cabin of the Penobscot heartily applauded the conduct of the commodore.

"You are very kind and generous, Bob," replied Donald, deeply moved by the magnanimity of the commodore.

"When I am whipped, I know it as well as the next man. The silver vase belongs to the Sea Foam."

"Not at all," protested Donald. "This last race was not for the vase, and you won the first one fairly."

"Of course the vase belongs to the commodore," added Rodman. "The judges have already awarded and presented the prizes."

This was the unanimous sentiment of all concerned, and Robert consented to retain the first prize.

"I say, Don John," continued the commodore, removing his wet coat and cap, "I want to have an understanding about the affair. While I own that the Skylark has been beaten, I am not so clear that the Sea Foam is the faster boat of the two."

"I think she is, commodore," laughed Donald; "though I believe I understand your position."

"We made an even thing of it till we came up with Turtle Head—didn't we?"

"Yes, that's so. If either gained anything for the moment, he lost it again," replied Donald.

"Then, if we made exactly the same time to Turtle Head, it seems to me the merits of the two boats are about the same."

"Not exactly, commodore. You forgot that the Skylark has to give time to the Sea Foam—one and three-tenths seconds per mile; or about eight seconds from here to the Head."

"That's next to nothing," laughed Robert. "But I was a length ahead of you."

"I let you gain that, so that I could go to windward of you."

"You made your first point by running nearer to the rocks than I like to go, by which you cut off a little of the distance; and inches counted in so close a race."

"That's part of the game in sailing a race."

"I know that, and it's all perfectly fair. I lost half my time when the squall came. I thought it was going to be heavier than it proved to be."

"I threw the Sea Foam up into the wind when it came," said Donald.

"But you didn't drop your peak, and I lost two minutes in doing it. Now, Don John, I can put my finger on the four minutes by which you beat me; and I don't think there is any difference between the two yachts."

"You forget the allowance."

"That's nothing. In all future regattas the result will depend more upon the sailing than upon the boats."

"I think you are quite right, Bob; and the fellow who makes the most mistakes will lose the race. But when the Maud is done she is going to beat you right along, if she has anything like fair play," laughed Donald.

"She may if she can," replied Robert.

The reputation of Ramsay & Son, boat builders, was greatly increased by the result of the race. If Edward Patterdale was a little mortified to have it demonstrated that the Sea Foam had lost the first prize by his own want of skill and tact in sailing her, he was consoled by the fact that Commodore Montague, who had the credit of being the best skipper in Belfast, had been beaten by his yacht. When the shower was over the party went on shore, and Donald hastened to the shop to attend to business. He found that his men had done a good day's work in his absence, and he related to Kennedy all the particulars of the two races.

"It would have been a bad egg for you if you had not been present," said Kennedy, much interested in the story. "In these regattas the sailing of the yacht is half the battle, and these young fellows may ruin your reputation as a boat-builder, if you don't look out for them."

"When I heard Ned Patterdale say he was disappointed in the Sea Foam, I felt that our business was nearly ruined. I think I have done a good thing for our firm to-day."

"So you have, Donald; and when the Maud is finished, I hope you will sail her yourself in the first race she enters."

"I will, if Sam Rodman consents."

Donald paid off his men that night from the money received from Mr. Rodman. The next week he employed another hand, and worked diligently himself. Every day his mother came out to see how the work progressed, as she began to have some hope herself of the success of the firm of Ramsay & Son. Donald paid her all the fees he received for measuring yachts, and thus far this had been enough to support the family. She did not inquire very closely into the financial affairs of the concern, and the active member of it was not very communicative; but she had unbounded confidence in him, and while he was hopeful she was satisfied.

It would be tedious to follow the young builder through all the details of his business. The frame of the Maud was all set up in due time, and then planked. By the first of August, when the vacation at the High School commenced, she was ready to be launched. All the joiner work on deck and in the cabin was completed, and had received two coats of paint. Mr. Rodman had paid a hundred dollars every week on account, which was more than Donald needed to carry on the work, and the affairs of Ramsay & Son were in a very prosperous condition.

On the day of the launch, the Yacht Club attended in a body, and all the young ladies of the High School were present. Miss Maud Rodman, with a bottle in her hand, had consented formally to give her own name to the beautiful craft. Nellie Patterdale was to be on deck with her, attended by Donald and Sam Rodman. The boarding at the end of the shop had been removed, to allow the passage of the yacht into her future element. The ways had been laid down into the water, and well slushed. It was high tide at ten o'clock, and this hour had been chosen for the great event.

"Are you all ready, Mr. Kennedy?" asked Donald.

"All ready," replied the workman.

"Let her slide!" shouted the boat-builder.

A few smart blows with the hammers removed the dog-shores and the wedges, and the Maud began to move very slowly at first. Those on deck were obliged to stoop until the hull had passed out of the shop.

"Now stand up," said Donald, as the yacht passed the end of the shop; and he thrust a long pole, with a flag attached to the end, into the mast hole.

The boat increased her speed as she advanced, and soon struck the water with a splash.

"Now break the bottle, Maud," added Donald.

"I give this yacht the name of Maud," said Miss Rodman, in a loud tone, as she broke the bottle upon the heel of the bowsprit.

"Won't she tip over, Don John?" asked Nellie.

"Not at all; nearly all her ballast has been put into her, and she will stand up like a queen on the water," answered Donald, proudly, as he realized that the launch was a perfect success.

Loud cheers from the crowd on shore greeted the yacht as she went into the embrace of her chosen element. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the gentlemen their hats. Maud and Nellie returned the salute, and so did Sam Rodman; but Donald was too busy, just then, even to enjoy his triumph. As the hull slid off into the deep water, the boat-builder threw over the anchor, and veered out the cable till her headway was checked. The Maud rested on the water as gracefully as a swan, and the work of the day was done.

Hardly had the yacht brought up at her cable, when the Juno, in which Laud Cavendish had been laying off and on where he could see the launch, ran alongside of her.

"Keep off!" shouted Donald; "you will scrape her sides."

"No; hold on, Don John; I have a cork fender," replied Laud, as he threw his painter on board of the Maud. "Catch a turn—will you?"

"Don't let him come on board, if you can help it," whispered Nellie Patterdale. "He is a terrible bore."

"I can help it," replied Donald, as, with a boat-hook he shoved off the bow of the Juno.

Then, for the first time, he observed that Laud had a passenger, a man whom he remembered to have seen before, though he did not think where.

"What are you about, Don John?" demanded Laud.

"Keep off, then," replied Donald. "We don't want any visitors on board yet. We are going to haul her up to the wharf at once."

"But I came off to offer the ladies a passage to the shore," said Laud.

"They don't want any passage to the shore."

"Good morning, Miss Patterdale," added Laud, as Nellie went to the rail near the Juno. "Allow me to offer you a place in this boat to convey you to the shore."

"Thank you, Mr. Cavendish; I intend to remain where I am," replied she, rather haughtily.

"I shall be happy to take you out to sail, if you will do me the honor to accompany me; and Miss Rodman, too, if she will go."

"No, I thank you; I am otherwise engaged," answered Nellie, as she retreated to the other side of the yacht.

"I say, Donald, let me come on board," asked Laud, who was desperately bent upon improving his acquaintance with Nellie Patterdale.

"Not now; you can come on board at the wharf."

Donald was resolute, and Laud, angry at his rebuff, filed away.

"Here is a man that wants to see you, Don John," shouted Laud, as he ran his boat up to the Maud again.

"I can't see him now," replied Donald.

Kennedy now came alongside in the skiff, bringing a warp-line from the shore, by which the Maud was hauled up to the wharf. The spectators went on board, and examined the work. Many of them crawled into the cabin and cook-room, and all of them were enthusiastic in their praise, though a few seasoned it with wholesome criticism. Some thought the cabin ought to be longer, evidently believing that it was possible to put a quart of water into a pint bottle; others thought she ought to be rigged as a schooner instead of a sloop, which was a matter of fancy with the owner; but all agreed that she was a beautiful yacht. In honor of the event, and to please the young people, Mr. Rodman had prepared a collation at his house, to which the members of the Yacht Club and others were cordially invited. Kennedy and the other men who worked on the Maud were included in the invitation, and the afternoon was to be a holiday. Laud Cavendish, who had moored the Juno and come on shore, liberally interpreted the invitation to include himself, and joined the party, though he was not a member of the club. Some people have a certain exuberance on the side of their faces, which enables them to do things which others cannot do.

"I want to see you, Don John," said Laud, as the party began to move from the wharf towards the mansion of Mr. Rodman.

"I'll see you this evening," replied Donald, who was anxious to gain a position at the side of Miss Nellie Patterdale.

"That will be too late. You saw the man in the Juno with me—didn't you?" continued Laud, proceeding to open his business.

"I saw him."

"Did you know him?"

"No; though I thought I had seen him before," replied Donald, as they walked along in the rear of the party.

"He is the man who was beaten within an inch of his life over to Lincolnville, a while ago."

"Hasbrook?"

"Yes, his name is Jacob Hasbrook."

"He was with us in the library of Captain Patterdale the day we were there, when the man had a sun-stroke."

"Was he? Well, I don't remember that. Folks say he is a big rascal, and the licking he got was no more than he deserved. He was laid up for a month after it; but now he and the sheriff are trying to find out who did it."

Donald was interested, in spite of himself, and for the time even forgot the pleasant smile of Nellie, which was a great deal for him to forget.

"Has he any idea who it was that beat him?"

"I don't know whether he has or not. He only asks questions, and don't answer any. You know I met you over to Turtle Head the morning after the affair in Lincolnville."

"I remember all about it," answered Donald.

"I saw you in the Juno afterwards. By the way, Don John, you didn't tell me how you happened to be in the Juno at that time. I don't recollect whether you had her at Turtle Head, or not. I don't think I saw her there, at any rate."

"No matter whether you did or not. Go on with your story, for we are almost to Mr. Rodman's house," replied Donald, impatiently.

"Well, after I left you, I ran over towards Saturday Cove," continued Laud. "You know where that is."

"Of course I do."

This was the place towards which Captain Shivernock had gone in the sail-boat, and where Laud had probably seen him, when he gave him the money paid for the Juno. Laud did not say that this was the time and place he had met the captain, but Donald was entirely satisfied on this point.

"From Saturday Cove I ran on the other tack over to Gilky's Harbor," added Laud.

"Did you see anybody near the cove?"

"I didn't say whether I did or not," replied Laud, after some hesitation, which confirmed Donald's belief that he had met the captain on this occasion. "Never mind that. Off Gilky's Harbor I hailed Tom Reed, who had been a-fishing. It seems that Tom told Hasbrook he saw me that forenoon, and Hasbrook has been to see me half a dozen times about it. I don't know whether he thinks I am the fellow that thrashed him, or not. He has pumped me dry about it. I happened to let on that I saw you, and Hasbrook wants to talk with you."

By this time they reached Mr. Rodman's house, and to the surprise of Donald, Laud Cavendish coolly walked into the grounds with him.



CHAPTER XI.

THE WHITE CROSS OF DENMARK.

Laud Cavendish was at Donald's side when they entered the grounds of Mr. Rodman, where the tables were spread under the trees in the garden. As the collation was in honor of the launch of the Maud, of course the young boat-builder was a person of no little consequence, and being with him, Laud was permitted to enter the grounds unchallenged; but they soon separated.

Donald was disturbed by what Laud had told him, and he did not wish to answer any questions which might be put to him by Hasbrook, who was evidently working his own case, trying to ascertain who had committed the outrage upon him. He did not wish to tell whom he had seen on that Saturday forenoon, and thus violate the confidence of Captain Shivernock. But he was entirely satisfied that the captain had nothing to do with it, for he had not left his house until after the deed was done, according to the testimony of Sykes and his wife, whom he had separately interviewed. To decline to answer Hasbrook's questions, on the other hand, was to excite suspicion. He could not tell any lies about the case. If he could, it would have been easily managed; as it was, the situation was very awkward. But he had not time to think much of the matter, for one and another began to congratulate him upon the success of the launch, the fine proportions and the workmanship of the Maud. The praise of Captain Patterdale was particularly agreeable to him; but the best news he heard was that Major Norwood intended to have a yacht built for his son, and would probably give the job to Ramsay & Son.

"Well, Don John, you are a real lion," laughed Nellie Patterdale, when, at last, the young boat-builder obtained a place at her side, which had been the objective point with him since he entered the grounds.

"Better be a lion than a bear," replied Donald.

"Everybody says you have built a splendid yacht, and Maud is delighted to have it named after her."

"I think the Sea Foam ought to have been called the Nellie," added Donald.

"Pooh! I asked Ned to call her the Sea Foam."

"If I ever build a yacht on my own account, I shall certainly name her the Nellie Patterdale," continued Donald, though the remark cost him a terrible struggle.

"I thank you, Don John; but I hope you will never build one on your own account, then," answered she, with a slight blush.

"Why, wouldn't you like to have a boat named after you?" asked he, rather taken aback at her reply.

"I shouldn't like to have my whole name given to a boat. It is too long."

"O, well! Then I shall call her the Nellie."

"You are too late, Don John," laughed Laud Cavendish, who was standing within hearing distance, and who now stepped forward, raised his hat, bowed, and smirked. "I have already ordered the painter to inscribe that word on the bows and stern of the Juno, for I never liked her present name."

Nellie blushed deeper than before, but it was with anger this time, though she made no reply to Laud's impudent remark. At this moment Mr. Rodman invited the party to gather around the tables and partake of the collation.

"Will Miss Patterdale allow me to offer her my arm?" added Laud, as he thrust his elbow up before her.

"No, I thank you," she replied, walking towards the tables, but keeping at Donald's side.

The boat-builder had not the courage to offer her his arm, though some of the sons of the nabobs had done so to the ladies; but he kept at her side. Laud was desperate, for Nellie seemed to be the key of destiny to him. If he could win her heart and hand, or even her hand without the heart, his fortune would be made, and the wealth and social position of which cruel fate had thus far robbed him would be obtained. Though she snubbed him, he could not see it, and would not accept the situation. If Donald had not been there, she would not have declined his offered arm; and he regarded the boat-builder as the only obstacle in his path.

"I wish you had not invited that puppy, Don John," said Nellie, as they moved towards the tables; and there was a snap in her tones which emphasized the remark.

"I didn't invite him," replied Donald, warmly.

"He came in with you, and Mr. Rodman said you must have asked him."

"Indeed, I did not; I had no right to invite him," protested Donald.

Nellie immediately told this to the host of the occasion, and in doing so she left Donald for a moment.

"Why don't you get out of the way, Don John, when you see what I am up to?" said Laud, in a low tone, but earnestly and indignantly, as though Donald had stepped between him and the cheerful destiny in which his imagination revelled.

"What are you up to?"

"I told you before that I liked Nellie, and you are all the time coming between me and her. She would have taken my arm if you had stepped aside."

"I don't choose to step aside," added Donald.

"I want to get in there, Don John," added Laud, in a milder tone.

"Paddle your own canoe."

"You don't care anything about her."

"How do you know I don't?"

"Do you?"

"That's my affair."

"She don't care for you."

"Nor you, either."

"Perhaps not now, but I can make it all right with her," said Laud, as he twirled his colored mustache, which he probably regarded as a lady-killer. "Besides, you are not old enough to think of such things yet, Don John."

"Well, I don't think of such things yet," replied Donald, who really spoke only the truth, so far as he was consciously concerned.

"But you ought not to stick by her to-day. You are the boat-builder, and you should bestow your attentions upon Maud Rodman, after whom the yacht was named. She is the daughter of the man who gave you the job. If you will just keep away from Nellie, I can paddle my own canoe, as you say."