Dec. 31, 1910 ] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
1065 
Winning with a Horse and a Half. 
The morning of the races dawned cool and 
bright, witli a brisk northwest wind. At the 
south end of the lake the summer colony, known 
as Curtis' Grove, was early awake and astir. To¬ 
day was the great day of the year for everyone 
who owned a power boat on Contee Lake, and 
there were few, indeed, of the cottagers, whose 
interest in the event had not the personal note. 
There were to be three races, first, second and 
third class, according to the size of the boats 
and the power of tneir equipment. Ihe third 
class race was between power canoes, and next 
to the annual free-for-all this race of midgets 
aroused the most interest ot any. 
Wink, Sally B., Titania, Buzz and Lady's Slip¬ 
per were the entries in the canoe race, ihe first 
three carried i}/ 2 horsepower engines of the same 
make, they were of practically the same dimen¬ 
sions, and the fight between them would be 
mainly a matter ot propellers, handling and gen¬ 
eral efficiency in detans. Buzz was equipped 
with a two-cylinder, two horsepower engine of 
very light construction, especia.ly designed for 
canoes, while Lady's Slipper's engine had two 
cylinders rated at i l / 2 horsepower each. This 
engine was considerably heavier than the others, 
however, and Lady’s Slipper was known to be 
having rather exasperating carburetor troubles 
besides. Buzz was generally picked as the win¬ 
ner, wiih Titania second, and Lady’s Slipper 
wherever her skip might land her. 
All the forenoon the wind increased, whipping 
up the whitecaps and making it a more or less 
hazardous feat to make a landing at the unpro¬ 
tected wharves. By noon the waves were splash¬ 
ing half way over the club house wharf, and it 
was abandoned in favor of the more sheltered 
landings on the leeward side of the bay. Power 
boats of various sizes and shapes were darting 
or crawling hither and thither about the bay, 
being tried out and put through their paces for 
the afternoon. New arrivals from down the lake 
were constantly arriving on the scene, and in 
most cases depositing their feminine passengers 
at the wharf of some welcoming cottager. A 
gay throng of visitors swarmed over the veran¬ 
das of the little hotel, the dainty gowns of the 
women fluttering in the breeze like a field of 
wind-tossed flowers. 
The first and second class' races were run in 
due time, with results not concerning this story, 
and at 3143 o’clock the five-minute gun called 
together the power canoes. A signal flag from 
the commodore’s launch brought the five con¬ 
testants up alongside, and after a brief conver¬ 
sation, Captain Harmon announced through his 
big megaphone to the judges on the club house 
porch that the canoes preferred not to postpone 
their race, notwithstanding the heavy wind and 
sea. 
“You're going to get mighty wet, boys,” said 
the commodore, shaking his head dubiously. 
“For heaven’s sake, be careful out there at the 
second stake boat. That's a hard burn to make 
with the wind in the northwest, and if you don’t 
look out, those little cockleshells will be 
swamped.” 
As the second gun boomed out, the five canoes 
went over the line in good close order, Wink 
ahead, with Buzz on her quarter, Lady's Slipper 
and Titania neck and neck some two rods be¬ 
hind, and Sally B. bringing up the rear. 
The course was triangular and approximately 
five miles in length. On the first leg the canoes 
were headed into the wind, and without excep¬ 
tion they took the hard work well, lifting their 
graceful bows courageously to meet the oncom¬ 
ing waves. Two or three times, as they topped 
an especially big wave, their little propellers 
swung clear of the water, and the engines raced 
wildly until they felt their load again. All the 
canoes were taking in a good deal of water, but 
as the drivers had been careful before they 
started to protect the spark plugs and batteries 
with hoods and carriage cloth respectively, the 
drenching did no particular harm. 
At the end of the first leg Buzz had taken the 
lead from Wink, and Titania had crept by Lady’s 
Slipper to second place. On the turn, Buzz kept 
well out. giving the stake boat a wide berth and 
allowing amply for wind and wave, but Bob 
Burton, confident in his perfect control of 
Titania, took a chance and whisked her nose 
sharply around between two waves, clearing the 
stake boat by scarcely three feet, and gaining 
ten yards on Buzz. 
As soon as he was safely around the turn and 
could spare a hand from the wheel, Burton began 
bailing vigorously. It would have been well for 
Buzz if her owner, John West, had followed this 
example, for Buzz, too, had shipped a good deal 
of water, and every pound of this extra load 
was holding her back. 
At the second stake boat Titania was closing 
in on Buzz, with only twenty yards to gain. The 
other three canoes were having rather hard luck. 
Lady’s Slipper's skip was losing her about every 
fourth stroke, and she was dropping behind 
with Sally B. Wink shipped a huge sea at the 
turn and drowned her engine, so that the two 
leaders were half way down the last leg of the 
course before she could get started again. 
Little by little Titania crept up on Buzz as 
they came down the homestretch on the last two 
miles, the wind with them now and no deluges 
of water sluicing over them. Like a live thing 
Titania flew along over the waves, seeming fair¬ 
ly to leap from one to another and touching 
hardly more than their crests. 
Buzz strove valiantly to hold her own, if noth¬ 
ing more, but it was no use; she could not shake 
off the gay little sprite that crowded her closer 
and closer. 
On shore the excitement ran high. Field and 
marine glasses brought nearer the lively struggle 
for supremacy between the two leaders and 
shouts of “Titania! Come on, little Queen!” 
“Flit her up, Burton!” alternated with “West!” 
“West!” “Buzz leads!” “Buzz has it!” “Buzz!” 
“Buzz!” “Buzz!” 
Up on the club house veranda Burton's sister, 
Sally, leaned perilously far out over the water, 
her eyes glued to the field glasses, her heart 
thumping heavily with excitement. Quite un¬ 
conscious of her surrounds, her whole heart 
with her brother and his gallant little canoe, 
she now and then whispered to herself, half 
aloud: 
“Bob, Bob! Hurry up! You must win!” And 
again: “Cut out the exhaust, Bob. That will 
help. Oh! Titania, hurry!” 
The judges were sitting up very straight and 
alert now, stop watches in hand, ready for a 
close finish. On came the dainty little racers like 
Arabian thoroughbreads, neck and neck. 
“Titania leads!” “Hurrah!” 
“Buzz!” “Buzz!” “Buzz!” 
Burton and West were both leaning forward, 
their eyes on the finish line, every nerve keyed 
up to concert pitch. Inch by inch Titania’s bow 
forged ahead of Buzz. Only 200 yards more. 
Suddenly a surprising thing happened. Burton 
leaned back for an instant and did something 
with a Stilson wrench. Titania leaped forward 
as if a spur had struck, her! Where before she 
had gained by inches, she now gained by feet! 
A moment of confusion and uncertainty 
showed itself in the crowd on shore. Then, as 
they comprehended what was happening, an up¬ 
roar of shouts and cheers burst forth, mega¬ 
phones brayed: “Titania!” “Titania!” “Good 
boy, Bob!” Whistles blew like mad, automo¬ 
bile horns honked, and hundreds of people 
shouted themselves hoarse in honor of the 
staunch little canoe which to-day was proving 
herself the equal of much larger boats in sea¬ 
worthiness as well as in speed, and in the midst 
of this uproar Titania shot across the line, two 
lengths ahead of Buzz, just twenty-nine minutes 
from her starting time. An average of a little 
over ten miles an hour is not bad for \ l / 2 horse¬ 
power, particularly in such heavy weather. 
From the finish line Burton swung Titania 
around toward the club house, and for a moment 
as she curtseyed and bobbed in the trough of 
the waves she seemed to be acknowledging the 
acclamations that greeted her victory. 
“Great work, Bob!” said the commodore, as 
he joined Burton a little later on the gasolene 
merchant’s wharf where Titania’s tank was be¬ 
ing refilled in preparation for the trip home. “I 
wouldn’t have believed those little eggshells 
ARTHUR B1NNEY 
(Formerly Stewart & Binney) 
Naval Architect and Yacht Broker 
Mason Building. Kilby Street, BOSTON, MASS. 
Cable Address, “Designer,” Boston 
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