The Whispering Statue by Carolyn Keene Page A

back. Wait here!”
    Bess followed her as she headed for Mr. Ayer. The yacht club manager had just joined the group on the beach. Quickly George pointed out the messenger and suggested that the manager take the telegram. Then they hurried back to their escorts.
    “What’s up?” Burt asked.
    George whispered an explanation. The four young people watched as Mr. Ayer made his way to the messenger and signed for the telegram. The boy went off.
    Boats were approaching the starting line. Top Job sailed near the committee boat and Nancy and Ned learned there was to be a one-minute warning gun—and then the start.
    “Do you have a stop watch?” Nancy asked him.
    “No, but I have a second hand on my watch.”
    “Good,” said Nancy. “How much time do we have?”
    The gun sounded and Ned checked his watch. “If you head for the left side of the line, you should just about make it at the gun.”
    “Do you see George? I wonder about that telegram,” Nancy said.
    Ned did not reply. Instead he exclaimed, “Nancy, look at that blue boat! It’s heading straight at us!”
    “I think it’ll be okay,” said Nancy. “He’s on a port tack and we have the right of way.”
    “Fifteen seconds until the gun,” said Ned, looking at his watch.
    Nancy leaned forward, watching the blue boat. “We’d better warn the skipper,” she said. “Starboard tack, starboard tack!” she yelled.

    “Nancy,” warned Ned, “that blue boat is heading straight at us!”
    “He has to give way,” Ned cried out. But the boat with its two sailors kept coming.
    Nancy said under her breath, “I’d better fall off a little and give way.”
    They veered, missing the blue boat by inches. Ned yelled to the other skipper, “Protest! We’re protesting the start!”
    The gun roared and Nancy and Ned headed up again and went over the line after the blue boat.
    “Looks as if we’ll be at the Protest Meeting after the race,” said Ned. “I’m going to fly the protest flag.”
    “Oh, we may win anyway,” said Nancy. “I didn’t care for their sailing manners, though, and I’m sure they know better. They probably think we won’t protest, but we will. It’s the right thing to do.”
    There was a good steady wind. The course was around two buoys and then in. The boats were spread out. Nancy was sailing well and Top Job passed the blue boat. It was moving up, though, with two other craft close behind.
    As they headed toward the finish line, Ned said, “That guy behind us is putting up the spinnaker, Nancy. Where’s ours?”
    “Quick! Look under the deck. There’s another sail bag there,” Nancy replied quickly.
    “Nothing here.” Ned sighed. “Let’s go wing and wing since we’re before the wind, and hope for the best.”
    “We may be better off. Setting a spinnaker is always tricky business,” said Nancy. “We’ll do well wing and wing, especially since you’re crewing.”
    The blue boat was gaining now, as its spinnaker filled. Nancy and Ned were watching closely. Suddenly the spinnaker began to wobble and Ned yelled, “Look, Nancy, they’re in trouble! The spinnaker is fouling around the stay.”
    The two boats were almost even, but Top Job started pulling ahead. The people in the blue craft were obviously anxious and angry.
    “They certainly gave us nasty looks,” said Nancy. “Guess the wind is too gusty for them to handle.”
    “They lost their cool—that’s all,” Ned retorted.
    Top Job edged ahead. Ned was working the jib sheets with ease now. The gun sounded and Ned shouted, “We won, we won!”
    Nancy grinned. “And without a protest.”
    “But we could have won more easily if we hadn’t been fouled,” Ned insisted.
    “It doesn’t matter,” Nancy said. “I think Top Job is a nifty little boat.”
    “I guess so,” said Ned, “and you’re a nifty little skipper!”
    “Thanks,” said Nancy, laughing.
    The winners were congratulated by the chairman and told that they would be awarded silver trophies