It was quite true
that the old centenarian had a tremendous lead, which was gradually
decreased as the day went on. Still, the Guardsman, with face and
hands the colour of a copper kettle, appeared triumphantly at dinner
with a large silver cup which he presented with a bow to Lady
Wodehouse, the Governor's wife, whilst the soldier-footman, burnt
redder than the Reddest of Indians above his white shirt and tie,
grinned sympathetically as he busied himself over his duties with the
cauliflowers and potatoes. What had happened was this: the race was
right round the islands, without any mark-boats to round. There was a
very heavy sea running, and great breakers were washing over the
reefs. The other yachts all headed for the "gate," or opening in the
reefs, but the Guardsman, a keen hunting man, knowing that alone of
the competitors the old _Lady of the Isles_ had no "fin-keel,"
had determined to try and _jump the reef_. In spite of the
frantic protests of the black pilot, he headed straight for the reef,
and, watching his opportunity, put her fairly at it as a big sea swept
along, and got over without a scrape, thus gaining six miles. It was a
horribly risky proceeding, for had they bumped, the old yacht would
have gone to pieces, and the big sharks lie hungrily off the reefs.
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