A Regatta.—The "Waterlog's" Victory.

The waters of the broad once more blazed beneath the summer sun. The Swan lay at anchor in a reedy bay, and the three boys were sitting on deck, busily engaged in discussing some project which seemed to interest them very much.

For some years past a large yacht had been a prominent object on the Norfolk and Suffolk waters, not on account of her speed or her beauty, but because of her great ugliness of form, and her exceeding slowness of sailing. Cram on as much sail as you could, and yet the clumsiest wherry could beat her in sailing. Her owner entered her for many a race, and she was invariably so badly beaten that she became a laughing-stock. Her name was the Waterlily, but she was facetiously christened and universally called the "Waterlog." Her end was tragic. One time when the waters were very high after great floods, her owner sailed her into a small broad, and, not taking her off in time, the waters fell, and there was not depth enough to float her out, and she became fixed in a trap, out of which she could not be removed. She was offered for sale, but no one would buy her; so her owner, in a fit of disgust, first dismantled her and then set fire to her, and so she perished. Her nickname survived her, however, and, to the great indignation of the boys, descended upon the Swan, whose stiff and stately motion and peculiar appearance had made her the mark for it.

They were now holding an "indignation meeting" upon the subject, and a way had just been mooted by which they hoped to sustain the dignity of their boat.

"Wroxham Regatta is on the 20th of next month," said Frank, "and there is a race open to all classes of yachts except the winners of the previous races. Those will clear off the crack ships, and I don't think we need fear any of the others. I vote we enter the Swan for it, and show them how she can sail. The prize is a very handsome cup."

"Do you really think she will have any chance, Frank?" asked Jimmy.

"Not with her present rig; but we will add a big top-sail to both main-sail and mizen. Her double shape will enable her to stand any amount of sail, and if we have a good side wind and plenty of it we shall stand a very good chance."

So it was decided that the yacht should be entered for the race, and they set to work to prepare two immense yards and top-sails, and to practise sailing the yacht with them up. Mary Merivale and Edith Rose were invited to be on board during the race; the elders were to be present on board a friend's yacht to witness the regatta.

The day of the regatta arrived, and a strong north-wester was raising mimic waves on the broad. The boys had taken the yacht overnight to Wroxham, and in the morning they met Mary and Edith at Wroxham Bridge, and took them on board.

"Is it not dreadfully windy?" asked Edith Rose, as the wind blew her curls back from her pretty face.

"It is just what we want, Miss Rose," answered Frank.

"Wouldn't it be safer if we were not to be on board during the race? I am afraid you are going to be too venturesome. I heard you were going to put some more sails up, and I am sure these are large enough," said Edith.

"Pray don't desert us now," said Frank, so piteously, that Edith made no more objection for fear of vexing him.

Over the fence of tall reeds which now separated them from the broad they could see scores of white sails and gay pennants, and it was evident that there was a large assemblage.

"Why, Frank," said Mary, "I declare you are quite nervous; I can feel your arm tremble."

Frank indignantly repelled the accusation, but Jimmy, who was sitting on the roof of the cabin kicking his heels, said:—

"I am awfully, miserably nervous, and I believe we are going to make a tremendous mull of it, and we've done all we can to make ourselves conspicuous."

They had entered the yacht, out of a spirit of bravado, under the name of "The Waterlog," and they had painted the name on slips of stout paper, and tacked it over the legitimate name of their yacht.

"Nonsense!" was Frank's somewhat angry commentary on Jimmy's speech.

They now entered the broad, which presented a lively scene. Yachts of all rigs and sizes were skimming about, with gunwales under, to the stiff breeze. When the signal for the first race was given, those yachts not engaged in it came to an anchor, and the Swan, on whom all eyes were turned, took up her station next to the yacht in which were Mr. Merivale and his friends.

The wind continued to freshen and grow more gusty, so that of those yachts which started with their top-sails, two had them carried away in the first round, and the others had to take them down, and the yacht which won had a single reef in her huge main-sail.

There were three races before the open race for which the Swan was entered under her assumed name. I have not space to dwell upon the incidents of these, nor to dilate upon the glorious life and movement of the broad, with its crowd of white sails, and its waves sparkling in the sunlight. Three of the best yachts were, through being winners in the races, prohibited from sailing in the open race, but there were nevertheless a sufficient number of entries on the card of the races to make our boys dubious as to the result of their somewhat bold experiment. There were six named as to start. Two were lateeners, one a schooner, two cutters, and the sixth was the "Waterlog."

The course was three times round the lake, outside of certain mark-boats; and, as the wind blew, the yachts would catch it abeam for two-thirds the course, dead aft for a sixth, and dead ahead for the remainder. As Frank said, it was a wind in every respect suitable for the raft-like Swan.

The race excited a great amount of interest. The Swan was now well known to all the yachtsmen, and her change of name provoked curiosity and interest, and as the signal came for the yachts to take their station all eyes were upon the "Waterlog" (as we will call her during the race). As the boys ran up her sails and sailed away to the starting-point, a decided manifestation of admiration arose as the great top-sails slowly ascended under the strenuous efforts of Dick and Jimmy. As they fluttered in the wind, Mary threw all her little weight on to the halyard to assist in hauling them tight and flat.

Mary and Edith took up their places in the bows, where they were out of the way, as there is no jib in a lugger rig.

"Now, Dick," whispered Frank, "if any accident should happen—although it isn't likely—do you see to Mary, and I'll take Edith."

"All right, old man."

The yachts started from slip anchors, with the canvas set; and at the flash of the starting-gun, sheets were hauled in, and the six yachts which came to the starting-point bounded away almost simultaneously, the white water flashing away from their bows, and boiling and eddying in their wake. The wind was now blowing very fresh indeed, the other yachts were not only gunwales under, but the water swept all over the leeward half of their decks, and even the "Waterlog," in spite of the width of her beam and double shape, had her leeward pontoon completely submerged.

On they surged, the two girls clinging to the forestay, heedless of wet feet, and breathless with the swift excitement: Frank firmly grasping the tiller, his teeth set and his blue eyes gleaming; Dick at the main-sheet, and Jimmy standing on the counter with the mizen-sheet in his grasp, both watching their captain, to be instant at his commands.

The first round was quickly over, and then the position of the competing yachts was this:—The schooner was ahead, then at a little distance came the "Waterlog," and close behind her the rest of the yachts in a body. As they passed Mr. Merivale he cried out, "Well done, boys! you'll get a good place."

Next they passed a small boat, in which they saw Bell, who shouted,—"Haul in your sheets a bit more,—your top-sails will hold more wind."

Frank saw the wisdom of this advice, and as he followed it, the "Waterlog" shot forward and gained a little upon the schooner.

"If the wind were to freshen a little we should come in second," said Frank.

But as they commenced the third round the wind dropped most unexpectedly. The schooner in front rose nearer the perpendicular and her speed increased; the "Waterlog" fell back, and a large lateener behind fast overhauled her.

"How dreadfully annoying," said Frank; and he hated that lateener with a very vigorous hate. They passed Bell's boat again, and the old man shouted—

"Look out, Master Frank, a squall will be on you in a minute."

The sudden lull was but the precursor of a tremendously violent gust. As the yachts were beating up to round the last mark-boat before getting a straight run in to the goal, the boys saw the trees on the land bow their heads with a sudden jerk, and then the squall was upon them. It did not affect them so much when they were close hauled, but as the leading schooner rounded the boat and presented her broadside to the wind there was a great crash, and her cloud of white canvas descended upon the water. Her foremast had broken close by the deck, and in falling had snapped the remaining mast half way up, and she lay like a log on the water. The lateener, close upon her heels, heeled over so much, that she began to fill through the hatchway, and to save her from an upset her sheets were let go, and with her sails wildly fluttering she drifted on to the disabled wreck. All this was the work of a few seconds, but there was time for Frank to unloose the halyards of the top-sails, which were purposely made fast just in front of him, and to give a warning shout of "heads!" and then, to the great alarm of the girls, the sails came clattering down to leeward, and they rounded the boat in safety, though cannoning violently against the wreck as they did so. And now they were first! The cutter next behind them, in shooting up into the wind to save herself, lost way, and was no longer a dangerous enemy, and although the other yachts rounded the boat, yet they were far astern, and the victory of the "Waterlog" was secure. At a word from Frank the two girls, one on each side, stripped off the assumed name, and let the papers float away on the wind, and, amid vociferous cheering and clapping of hands and waving of handkerchiefs, the Swan shot past the winning-post, and so gained the prize.

Although gained partly by accident it was a great triumph for the boys, and the girls were quite as proud and delighted as they were.

"You are a dear good boy, and I'll give you a kiss," said merry Mary Merivale to her brother, "although you would rather have one from somebody else than from me, I know."

"I say, Molly, I wish you'd get her to give me one."

"You will have to wait a very long time for that, Mr. Frank."

"If you would give Dick one, she would give me one."

"That's all you know about it, sir," said Mary, making him a saucy curtsey.