THE REGATTA
There was an air of excitement and activity about Eagle Bay the following morning. All summer long it had been a quiet inlet of the great Atlantic. When the long breakers would come surging in on the south shore of the Sickle, half a mile over on its north shore there would hardly be a ripple on the bay. Up at the east end of course, near the Point, the heavy seas would come racing through the channel, but before they had gone far, the bay had caught them and soothed them, and all their fury died away in her placid arms.
But when the sun rose on the fifteenth of August, all along the bay there was a holiday look to things. The weather was splendid, not too warm nor too windy, but just right, the girls declared, as they all trouped out on the porch before breakfast, with various “envelopes” around them, as Crullers expressed it, to take a look at the scene. The hotel flaunted flags wherever a flag could be placed to advantage, and all along the beach, the cottages had out bunting and flags too. At the landing at Fair Havens, one huge flag was unfurled with dignity to the morning breeze.
“Oh, dear, I wish we had thought to buy a lot of flags too,” cried Isabel.
“There’s a whole week of it,” Polly answered. “We can buy them to-day over in the village. Don’t worry over anything at all, girls. Let’s be just as happy as we can while it lasts.”
Twelve large yachts they counted, besides several steam launches, motor boats, and smaller sailing craft. From the rigging of every one of them fluttered gay strings of small flags, and Polly finally ran down to their own flag pole and raised the blue and gold pennant of which the girls were so proud.
“Before the week is over, girls,” cried Kate, waving her towel at it joyously, as she came out on the porch after her bath, clad in her bathrobe, “every boat on the bay will know and respect that flag.”
The Commodore had sent over a cordial invitation for them to be the guests of the Orienta whenever they felt like it during regatta week. Polly hardly knew what to say about it. The best view of the course could be had from Lost Island, but the girls wanted to go to the big club house and “strut,” as Sue said.
“You’re a lot of vain bluejays,” Polly declared laughingly. “All you want to do is dress up in your best yachting suits, and go over there and be petted. I know you all.”
“Oh, Polly, come on. We haven’t been petted much this summer, have we?” pleaded Ted. “We’ve stayed right here and worked like able seamen, you know we have. Mayn’t we tie on our best hair ribbons now and go and eat ice cream, please?”