The appearance of the Osprey as she sailed into the anchorage, without topmast or bowsprit, excited great attention; and many of the yachtsmen came on board to inquire how the disaster had happened.  To save going through the story a score of times, Frank had the broken pieces of the bobstay bar brought up and laid on the deck near the tiller, and in reply to inquiries simply pointed to them, saying: 

“I think that tells the tale for itself.”

All were full of indignation at the dastardly outrage.

“What are you going to do, Major?”

“I am not going to do anything, except take it ashore and hand it to the Sailing Committee.  That it has been cut is certain.  As to who cut it, there is no shadow of evidence.”

“If I were in Carthew’s place,” one of them said, “I should decline to take the Cup under such circumstances, and would offer to sail the race over again with you as soon as you had repaired damages.”

“I should decline the offer if he made it,” he said, quietly.  “It is probable that we shall meet in a race again some day, and then we can fight it out, but for the present it is done with.  He has won the Queen’s Cup, and I must put up with my accidents.”

The effect produced by the facts reported to the committee, and their examination of the broken bar, was very great.  Such a thing had not been known before in the annals of yachting, and the committee ordered a poster to be instantly printed and stuck up offering a reward of 100 pounds for proof that would lead to the conviction of the author of the outrage.

Frank returned on board at once, and sent off a boat, towing behind it the broken bowsprit and topmast to Cowes, with instructions to Messieurs White to have two fresh spars got ready, by the following afternoon if possible.

He did not go ashore again until he landed, at half-past ten, at the clubhouse.  Every window was lit up, and dancing had begun an hour before.  Frank at once obtained a partner, in order to avoid having to talk the unpleasant business over with yachting friends.

Presently he sat down by the side of Lady Greendale.

“I am so sorry, Frank,” she said.  “It does seem hard when you had set your mind on it.”

“I had hoped to win,” he said, “but it is not as bad as all that after all.  It would have been more mortifying to lose because the Osprey was not fast enough, than to lose from an accident, when she had already proved herself to be the best in the race.  You know that I never went in for being a racing yachtsman.  I look upon racing as being a secondary part of yachting.  I can assure you, I don’t feel that I am greatly to be pitied.  It might have been better, and it might have been a great deal worse.”

“Well, I am glad that you take it in that way,” she said.  “I can assure you that I was greatly upset over it when I heard it.”

He sat chatting with her for some time.  Presently Bertha was brought back by her partner to her mother’s side.