"Time!" called Sam, as the Skylark came into the range of the chimney on shore.
"Four, thirty-six, twelve," said Norwood.
The Skylark came about, and passed under the stern of the Penobscot, reporting her name. The judges went below, and figured out the result, by which it appeared that the Sea Foam had beaten the Skylark, after the correction for the three inches' difference in length, by three minutes fifty-nine and four tenths seconds.
Donald was the first to come on board of the Penobscot, and was generously congratulated on his decisive victory, especially by Mr. Montague, the father of the commodore. Robert followed him soon after, and every one was curious to know what he would say and do.
"Don John, you have beaten me," exclaimed he, grasping the hand of Donald. "You have done it fairly and handsomely, and I am ready to give up the first prize to the Sea Foam."
The party in the cabin of the Penobscot heartily applauded the conduct of the commodore.
"You are very kind and generous, Bob," replied Donald, deeply moved by the magnanimity of the commodore.
"When I am whipped, I know it as well as the next man. The silver vase belongs to the Sea Foam."
"Not at all," protested Donald. "This last race was not for the vase, and you won the first one fairly."
"Of course the vase belongs to the commodore," added Rodman. "The judges have already awarded and presented the prizes."