VI.
A DOWN-TO-DATE YACHT RACE,
IN WHICH MAY BE FOUND SOME NOTEWORTHY EXAMPLES OF THE SEA-JOCKEY'S ART.
Sailing as a visitor on a racing
yacht is delightfully exciting. Let
me transcribe from my log-book
the yarn of the contest between the
Ghost and the Phantom, two modern 51-footers.
Stowed away between the lines
may be found a wrinkle or two of value
to the novice. So here goes:
The bell on the Phantom was striking eight as the gig rounded her graceful stern and brought up at the starboard gangway. The cutter had been completely "skinned" for the fray, as she was to compete for a valuable prize offered by the club. Everything had been taken ashore that the racing rules permitted, including books, cabin fittings, the cooking stove, deck scrubbers, buckets and brooms, mops, and other impedimenta comprised in the equipment of a properly fitted yacht. The cabin was bare—"cleared for action," as the owner observed.
"All you will get to eat to-day won't trouble your digestive organs," he con-
