THE BOAT RACE
"Now mind," said Frank to his brother and the other members of the
crew the next morning when they gathered in the boathouse, "not a word
of what happened last night. It's a disgrace to our school to have a
fellow like Welter in it, and we don't want it to get out."
"But what about the hole in the boat?" asked Ward, he and Jack, in
addition to Andy, being the only ones whom Frank had told about the
damage to the shell and the fight that followed.
"Oh, no one else need know about it," went on the captain. "We'll just
patch it up and keep it to ourselves."
"You've got a cut chin, how will you explain that?" Jack wanted to know.
"I won't have to."
"But maybe Welter will talk," suggested Andy.
"Not much," was the significant reply from Frank. "No, it will be kept
quiet until after we're up before the doctor and even after that I
don't think it will come out. I'm going to tell exactly how everything
happened and if I'm allowed to stay here I'll make Welter leave the
school, or we'll send him to 'Coventry' and he'll be glad to quit."
"That's the stuff!" exclaimed Ward. "Well, now let's see if we can do
anything with the shell."
It was the morning of the race, a glorious fall day, just right for a
swift row. Many of the schoolboys had gathered about the boathouse, but
none was admitted. Coach Wallace was on hand early and some excuse was
made to him in regard to the hole in the shell. He helped the crew to
fix it, and, being wise in his day, he asked no questions.
"There, it's as good as ever," he announced, when the piece of canvas
had been put over the cut and covered with a water-proof mixture. "It
won't leak and it's stronger than before. Oh, but I wish you had a new
shell."
"Don't mention it," spoke Frank. "If we win this race, though, we may
have one next year."
"Well, we're going to win all right!" exclaimed Andy, and the others
nodded their heads emphatically.
The race was to be rowed over a course that began and ended at
Waterside. This school had insisted on that as one of the conditions,
and as they stood in the position of champions they could impose their
own rules.
"Now remember," said the coach, giving them his final instructions,
"the course is three miles, a mile and a half to the stake boat and the
same distance back to the finish line at the Waterside boathouse. Don't
be in too much of a hurry. Take it easy at first and watch the other
fellows. When they begin to hit up the pace don't bite. They'll likely
do that to draw you on. Take it easy until after you round the stake
boat, but don't let them draw ahead of you. The real fight will be at
the finish."
The race was to start at two o'clock and at noon the crew ate a light
lunch. Then they took a rest and had half an hour of light exercise.
The shell was to be towed down to the starting point by a motor launch
that had been generously donated by a gentleman who once was quite an
oarsman.
"I'm glad to see that Riverview is waking up," he said heartily, when
he called for the crew, as Frank and his chums and Coach Wallace were
to go down the river in the motor craft, their shell towing on behind.
There was a large crowd assembled around the Waterside boathouse when
our heroes and their shell arrived. Though the race was still regarded
as something of a joke by the rivals of our heroes, still word had
gone around that the match might furnish good sport.
"Three cheers for Riverview!" called someone in the crowd. The answer
was given heartily and, looking up, Frank saw Tom Crawford, the lad
whom he had rescued.
"Three cheers for Waterside!" called one of the crowd of Riverview
students who had come down to see the race.
"This is something that hasn't happened in many years," remarked
Wallace as the cheers died away. "To have Riverview cheering and being
cheered. I guess a better day is coming for the old school."
Captain Roth, of the Waterside four, advanced and shook hands with
Frank. The conditions of the race were discussed and agreed to, and one
or two disputed points settled. Both crews were warned against fouling
by the officials, and then they were ordered to get ready to start at
the pistol shot.
"Old Thorny had a streak of white in him somewhere," said Andy to his
brother, "to let you off for the race."
"Yes, but think of what's coming afterward," answered the captain, as
he looked at the outriggers to be sure they were in good condition.
"Oh, well, forget it. Say, there's someone waving to you."
"Where?"
"Over in that crowd of girls."
Frank looked quickly and caught a glimpse of a handkerchief being
shaken at him.
"It's Gertrude Morton," he said, "and Grace Knox is with her. I guess
_she's_ waving to you, Andy."
"Aw, cheese it. Let's get in."
The lads of Waterside were carefully taking their places in their shell
which was held steady for them by several of their comrades. As the
Riverview crew entered theirs, a like service was performed by some of
their lads.
There were a few moments of nervous preparation, a settling in their
seats on the part of the rowers, a testing of the oarlocks.
"Take your places," ordered the starter, and slowly the two shells
were rowed out from the float to the middle of the stream. At this
point there was scarcely any current, so there was little difficulty in
holding the frail craft in line until the starting shot was fired.
Once more came a moment of nervous tension. Each captain looked at his
crew, then glanced over toward the motor boat containing the officials.
"Are you ready?" asked the starter.
"Ready!" answered Captain Roth.
"Ready!" called Captain Racer.
A puff of smoke and a sliver of flame shot out of the revolver barrel,
followed by the sharp report.
Crack! It was like the snap of a whip.
Eight oars took the water as one, the broad blades slipping in with
scarcely a ripple. Eight sturdy backs bent to the stroke, and the thin
knife-like shells cleaved the water. The race was under way.
"Steady, boys, steady," called Frank in a low voice, as he set the
stroke. "Don't get excited." He panted to look over and see what his
rivals were doing, but he refrained for a moment. He wanted to get his
lads into the swing of it. Then he glanced across the little stretch
of river that separated the two shells. Waterside was a quarter of a
length ahead, and for an instant Frank was tempted to increase his
stroke. Then he remembered what the coach had said and he kept on at
the same even pace. He could hear the puffing of the official boat as
it followed the two shells.
Suddenly a cheer burst out from the bank, along which many excited
lads were running. It was a hearty cry and was followed by the yell of
Waterside.
"That's the way to do it! Walk away from them!" yelled a clear voice.
"They're ahead!" panted Andy.
"Don't talk!" cautioned Frank. For a moment he doubted the wisdom of
not matching his own stroke to that of his rivals and then he decided
to hold himself in check. The good sense in this was soon manifested,
for Waterside began to slow up and soon the two boats were on even
terms. The effort to get Riverview to make a spurt early in the race
had failed.
The struggle now settled down to one of determination, of strength
and endurance. Gradually the banks thinned of spectators for they
wanted to be back at the finish line. Frank could hear his three chums
breathing hard but he knew they were in no distress. Occasionally the
young captain glanced across at Waterside. Frank fancied he could see a
mocking smile on the face of Captain Roth.
As the two shells approached the stake boat neither one seemed to
have the advantage. But this was a point where skill would tell, for
an advantage might be gained here. Frank, in a low voice, issued his
instructions. He was jockeying to make the inside turn, but at the last
moment Ward missed a stroke and the Riverview shell swung awkwardly
around.
"Look out! You'll foul us!" yelled Captain Roth.
"Yes. Be careful," warned the judge through his megaphone.
There was no help for it. Frank and his comrades had to pull out and
let the Waterside shell take the inside course, which gave the rivals
of our heroes a decided advantage.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" wailed Ward.
"Never mind!" exclaimed Frank quickly. "You couldn't help it. Save your
breath for rowing. We're going to beat 'em yet!"
They swung around the stake boat and were off on the homeward course.
But Waterside was two lengths ahead.
"Now we've got to increase our stroke!" murmured Frank. "Quicker,
fellows!" he called.
The little accident had served them one good turn, it had given them an
instant to get their breaths. Now with fierce energy the Riverview lads
dipped their broad blades into the water.
Occasionally Frank, throwing a glance over his shoulder, noted the
space of water that separated the shells. He fancied it was growing
less. Or was it but a fancy?
"I'll catch them!" he thought. "We've got to!"
Along the bank he could see a few straggling spectators who could not
find room opposite the finish line.
"We must be getting there," thought the captain. "More power, boys!" he
called.
Riverview was rowing now as she had never rowed before. Arms were
aching under the strain. Lungs were panting. Eyes could scarcely see,
but the boys kept on.
Suddenly something came in the line of Frank's vision, to one side. It
was the end of the Waterside shell. He had pulled up on his rival.
"Row, boys! Row!" he pleaded, and how Andy and the others did row!
Farther and farther along the Waterside shell crept that of Riverview.
The crowds were yelling and shouting now in a very frenzy. It was a
close race, much closer than they had expected.
"Row! Row!" panted Frank. He increased the stroke and his crew was with
him. The boats were on even terms now. Frank could see that his rivals
were almost at the limit of their strength and endurance. They had
unwisely made their spurt too soon after rounding the stake boat.
"We've got to gain more! We've got to gain more!" Frank thought
desperately.
Inch by inch his shell crept up on that of Waterside. Could he and his
mates stand the strain a minute longer? It did not seem possible, yet
they must--or lose.
Suddenly there was a revolver shot. It was the warning gun to tell that
they were a hundred feet from the finish line.
"Now! For all you're worth! For the honor of Riverview!" cried Frank
with his last breath.
Desperately he and his chums dug their blades into the water. Their
example was followed by the crew of Waterside. The Riverview shell shot
ahead. There was a riot of cheers. Frank fancied he could hear a girl's
voice. Waterside made a last desperate effort, but it was too late.
They were rowed out.
Then, with one final heart-breaking spurt, Frank and his crew sent
their boat under the finish line. They scarcely dared look across
to see where their rivals were, but when they did they saw that as
their stern passed the mark the sharp bow of the other shell was just
reaching it.
"Won by a length!" cried Frank, scarcely able to speak. "Fellows,
Riverside has the race!"
And a burst of cheers, shrill cries from girls, hoarse shouts from
men, yells from the victorious school lads, greeted our heroes as they
rested on their oars, panting, exhausted and weary, but inexpressibly
happy. For had they not won? Had not the despised crew beaten the best
four on the river? And was not Riverview coming into her own once more?
"Oh, it was a good race! A good race!" murmured Frank, as they slowly
rowed back to the float and saw the welcoming hands stretched out to
them. "A good race!"