side the barnacle.

Sir Ernest Scrivener uttered a horrible oath as he recognised the
features of his successful rival. For an instant he loosened his grasp
on the wheel. The vessel yawed in her course and he was compelled to
seize the spokes again.

***

Before Scrivener could command his wits sufficiently to shout an order
to his crew, Ralph had caught up Lady Margaret in his arms and dashed to
the side of the vessel. Deprived of his skilled command, the _Seamaid_
had dropped behind; it was impossible to leap back to her decks.

Without hesitation, Ralph dived into the water, and still supporting the
now unconscious form of Lady Margaret, swam rapidly towards the yacht.
Two minutes later he was gripping the wheel and concentrating all his
immense will power upon the task of winning the race.

Inch by inch the _Seamaid_ crept up to her rival. Despite all
Scrivener's efforts, the gap grew less and less.

And now the winning post was close at hand. Could it be done? Could it
be done? The frantic spectators behind the boom shouted themselves
hoarse. Lord Tamerton bit his thumbs till the blood ran.

Nearer drew the _Seamaid_. Nearer and nearer. Nearer still. At the
critical moment, Ralph, with a mighty effort, pushed down the wheel.

A bare three inches parted the _Watersnake_ from the winning post when
the slight shudder ran through her which told that the prow of the
_Seamaid_ had touched her stern. The bump had been made; the race was
won.

***

Ralph Wonderson stood with the magnificent Island Cup in his hand,
filled to the brim with bubbling champagne.

"To the restoration of the fortunes of the house of Tamerton," he said
as he raised it to his lips.

* * * * *

Illustration: _The Turkey Buzzard_ (_to the Sea Eagle_). "You may call
yourself a Turkey Buzzard if you like, but they'll still know you by
your white feather."

* * * * *

THE VIKING SPIRIT.

["The week-end was dull and much rain fell, but this did not spoil
the visitors' pleasure. The sight of the sea in a turbulent mood was
a great attraction."--_Seaside note in daily paper._]

It has rained for a week down at Shrimpton;
'Tis zero or less in the shade;
You can paddle your feet in the principal street
And bathe on the stony parade;
But still on our holiday pleasures
No thoughts of discomfort intrude,
As we whisper, "This sight