My sympathy was with the British boat. I realized that in the interest of true sport it would be a capital thing for the America's cup to leave our shores for a while, because it would put our yacht designers on their mettle, and produce something wondrous in the yacht line so far as speed is concerned. But it struck me that Valkyrie was scarcely good enough to accomplish the task for which she was constructed. Now I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but I simply relate facts as they occurred. I am convinced also that Mr. Watson, after examining Defender in dock, realized that his work had been in vain, and that Valkyrie, admirable as she was and is, was a wee bit inferior to the peerless Bristol flyer.
The photograph of Defender passing under Brooklyn Bridge, which her topmast truck barely cleared at the top of high water, shows the tauntness of her mast, and is a splendid object lesson, worthy of preservation for all time. The spirited photograph of her crew tailing onto the throat halyards of the mainsail shows the light but strong rig forward, the stumpy bowsprit, the batten-like bulwark, and the other modern features of the beau-ideal racing vessel of 1895.
Whatever developments there may be in store for us with regard to hull, rig and sail plan, I know not. But if within the next ten years as great progress is made as has been made during the past decade, the racing machine of that epoch
