The medal was made of sole leather, about six inches in diameter. Attached to it was a yard of stove-pipe chain, by which it was hung around the neck of the winner of the last prize. A shout of laughter and a round of applause greeted the presentation of the medal. Laud did not know whether to smile or get mad; for he felt like the victim of a practical joke. Miss Nellie Patterdale stood near him, and perhaps her presence restrained an outburst of anger. Mr. Montague, the father of the commodore, had provided a bountiful collation in the cabin of the Penobscot, and the next half hour was given up to the discussion of the repast. Laud tried to make himself agreeable to Nellie, and the poor girl was persecuted by his attentions until she was obliged to break away from him.
"Don John, I am told that everybody is satisfied with this race except you," said Commodore Montague, as the party went on deck after the collation.
"I am satisfied with it," replied Donald. "Everything has been perfectly fair, and the Skylark has beaten the Sea Foam."
"But you still think the Sea Foam can outsail the Skylark?"
"I think so; but of course I may be mistaken."
"You believe that Ned Patterdale didn't get all her speed out of the Sea Foam," added the commodore.
"I don't mean to say a word to disparage Ned; but he don't know the Sea Foam as you do the Skylark."
"There is hardly a particle of difference between the boats."
"I know it; but you have had so much more experience than Ned, that he ought not to be expected to compete with you. If you will exchange boats, and you do your best in the Sea Foam, I believe you would beat your own yacht. I think Ned does first rate for the experience he has had."
"So do I; but I believe the difference is in the sailing of the boats; for you may build two yachts as near alike as possible, and one of them will do better than the other," said Robert Montague.