The orders were swiftly executed, and the _Seamaid_ leaped forward with a bound. The distance between the two vessels rapidly lessened. "Fred," said Ralph, "you must take the wheel for a time. I'm going forward to board the _Watersnake_." Lord Tamerton obediently grasped the wheel, while Ralph ran forward and crept along the bowsprit. The intervening space was now very small. Bracing himself for the effort, he shot through the air and landed upon the deck of the _Watersnake_. The first object which met his gaze was Lady Margaret, her wrists bound, lying beside 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._]