The Boat-race.--Winning.--Mr. Marston.--Nightingale and Nest.--
The noise of the Nightingales.
The next morning Frank had another row in the four-oar, and in the
afternoon they practised starts. The boat went very well indeed,
notwithstanding the importation of new blood into it at the last hour.
The day of the race came, a beautiful summer day with a gentle breeze,
and the glare of the sun subdued by light clouds.
The race was at three o'clock, and a goodly company had assembled at
Whitlingham to witness it. The course was from below Postwick Grove to
Whitlingham, a distance of two miles, the latter part of which was a
long straight course, where for nearly a mile the boats could be seen by
all the spectators.
"How do you feel, old man?" said Jimmy to Frank as he was in the
boat-house dressing.
"Oh, all right; we mean to win."
"I don't know that you will though. I have seen the other crew rowing
past on their way to the course. They have got such a splendid long
stroke and swing so evenly."
"Yes, they row well," said Marston, who was the stroke of Frank's boat,
"but they have not got enough of 'go' in them. They take it too easily,
and so don't get a good grip of the water; and I think they have
over-trained. Still we shall have a hard job to beat them, but we all
mean to try. Now look here, you fellows. This is what I mean to do. We
will put on a spurt at first, and get ahead of them, and then settle
down into a steady stroke."
This was very good advice, for it is a well-known fact that boys row
with all the more _esprit_ if they can only get a start at the
beginning. They are not so good at rowing a 'waiting' race as men are,
but if they can but get ahead at first they always have a very good
chance against men who are much stronger than themselves.
Dick and Jimmy went to their yacht, and as the wind, although light,
was dead aft, they sailed down to Whitlingham before the racing-boats
arrived there. There was a goodly number of spectators on the fair green
meadow which lies between the river and the wood, for the race had
excited some interest. The gay dresses of the ladies made the scene very
lively and pretty. Dick gallantly made it known that the yacht, which
they had moored by the winning-post, was at the service of the ladies,
and his offer was taken advantage of, and the _Swan's_ deck was soon
crowded with the fair sex.
The Norwich boat was the first to appear on the scene. On they came with
a long swinging stroke on their way to the starting-point. Nothing could
be prettier to look at than their style of going. The crew rowed a long
stroke which had every appearance of strength. They bent to and fro with
the regularity of machines. The oars were pulled well home to the
breast, the wrists dropped, and the oars feathered cleverly; the arms
shot out, quickly followed by the body until the breast came well
between the wide-open knees, but there was just one fault noticeable.
The oars were put too gingerly into the water. There was no 'grip.' The
men looked as if their boat were too light for them, and they were
afraid of making her roll by too great an exertion of force. The men,
too, looked pale and over-trained.
A few minutes after they had passed, the boys came by with a quick,
lively stroke, such a quick dash in it, and a firm grip of the water at
the commencement of the stroke, that promised to do them good service.
They did not go nearly so smoothly as their opponents; nor was this to
be wondered at, seeing the change which had been effected so late in the
day.
Dick and Jimmy ran down the bank of the river to the starting-point,
accompanied by many more.
And now the boats were side by side, waiting for the signal to start. As
the wind was light there was not much drifting, and a few strokes of the
oars of bow and stroke kept them in position.
Frank settled himself well on his seat, and waited for the word. The
starter said, "I shall ask if you are ready and then say Go!"
"Now mind," said Marston, "one short stroke to get her away, and then
row with all your might to get her ahead."
"Are you ready?"
Frank grasped his oar firmly, and drew in his breath.
"_Go!_"
The oars flashed in the water, and then it seemed to Frank as if the
other crew were fast drawing away from them. He clenched his teeth and
threw all his power into the stroke, pulling with every muscle of his
body from his scalp to his toes. The river was white with the foam
churned by the oars. There seemed to be a deafening noise of rushing
water and rattle of oars in the rowlocks. Marston's jersey had been hung
on a nail, and this had caused a projection in it at the back of the
neck. On this Frank fixed his eyes, neither looking to right or left of
him for fear he should make the boat roll and lose time. Then out of the
corner of his eye he saw that he was opposite number two in the rival
boat, and he knew that they were gaining. Another dozen strokes and they
were clear. Then Marston eased a bit, and the boys got into a little
better time. Their coxswain tried to take the water of the other boat,
and thus nearly caused a foul at the bend in the river, but Marston
shook his head at him and he steered his own course.
Frank had now lost his nervousness, and felt pretty comfortable and able
to take a little notice of what was passing on the banks, where a small
crowd was running at the top of its speed abreast of them; a noise which
had been humming in his ears resolving itself into the eager shouts of
the partisans of the rival crews.
Dick was well in advance, saying, "Well rowed, number three; splendidly
rowed, Frank;" and Jimmy was a little way behind him shouting as
excitedly. Frank for a time fell into the error of thinking that he was
doing the real work of the boat, and began to row somewhat too
violently, when a warning voice from the bank cried out--"Steady, steady
number three!" and that recalled him to himself.
They were now in the straight reach, and in sight of the winning-post,
and their opponents were steadily gaining on them. "Why doesn't Marston
quicken?" thought Frank impatiently; but his stroke knew what he was
about, and he kept on steadily until the boats were level once more.
Frank's hands were becoming numbed, for he was so afraid of slipping his
oar that he grasped it more firmly than was needful. His wind was going
too, and his tongue seemed swollen and clove to the roof of his mouth.
He ventured a side glance at number three in the other boat, and was
relieved to find that he seemed in quite as bad a plight as himself. An
unlucky swan got in the way, and Frank struck it violently with his oar,
and very nearly caught a crab in consequence. A sudden puff of wind blew
somebody's hat off, and Frank smiled as he saw it float past and knew
that it was Dick's.
The oars flashed with increasing quickness, the shouts on the bank grew
louder, and still the long slim boats swept over the water side by side,
their opponents drawing slightly ahead.
[Illustration: PAIR-OARED BOAT.]
"Now!" gasped Marston; and Frank knew that the time for the final spurt
had come, and if the stroke had been quick before it was doubly so now.
Frank felt that each stroke must be his last, but he struggled on; and
just as he felt faint (for his want of training had told) and he lost
sight of the other boat in a mist, he heard the sound of a pistol and
knew that the winning post was reached.
"Who's won?" he managed to ask.
"We have, by half a length," answered the coxswain.
[Illustration: MR. MARSTON'S HOUSE.]
They drew close up to the bank amid the cheers of the people, and they
staggered ashore; and Frank went away a little distance and leaned
against a tree with his face to the wind, trying to regain his breath
again. Who does not know the agony of thus fighting for breath after a
severe struggle! Even the excitement of victory does not atone at the
moment for the penalty of over-exertion. Dick and Jimmy fanned him with
their hats--or rather Dick used his handkerchief, for his hat had gone
to the bottom by this time.
As soon as he had got his wind back Frank turned to the others, and was
at once seized by his companions and raised on their shoulders, and then
carried in triumph to a carriage where some ladies sat. A tall clergyman
approached, and he said,--
"You rowed splendidly, number three; wonderful, considering, as I am
told, you had no training for the race. I hope you will be none the
worse for it. Will you have some champagne?"
[Illustration: NIGHTINGALE.]
Frank could not resist a mighty draught of the cool wine, although it is
anything but a good thing to take at such a time. An orange is the best
thing,--it slakes the thirst, and does no injury to the stomach. The
clergyman turned out to be Marston's father, and his mother and sisters
were in the carriage. They invited our three boys to dine with them that
evening; and after the yacht had been taken to her moorings near the
railway bridge, the boys walked a mile out of the town to Mr. Marston's
house, and there spent a very pleasant evening. After dinner they played
croquet, and once, when it was Frank's turn to play it was found that he
was totally oblivious of the game, and had his eyes fixed on an elegant
brown bird which was flitting about the shrubs in the garden.
"Now then, Frank," said Marston, "it is your turn." Frank played and
then asked,
"Is not that bird a nightingale?"
"Yes, her nest is at the bottom of that bush. Watch how she goes to it."
[Illustration: NIGHTINGALE'S NEST.]
The bird hopped about in a promiscuous sort of way, just as if there
were no nest there, and then, when she got near it, she hopped upon it
in quite an accidental manner.
"She knows that we know her nest is there, because we look at it every
day, but she always pretends she is only there by accident."
Frank went to look at the nest. It was untidy in make, built of straw
and twigs, and lined with leaves. It contained five olive-brown eggs
which were near to hatching.
"You must not take any of these, Mr. Merivale," said Miss Marston.
"No, I do not wish to do so," said Frank, but his looks so belied his
words that they all laughed at him.
"There are two more nests about the grounds," said Marston, "and I have
some eggs in the house which you can have."
Frank thanked him, and asked if there were any more nightingales about.
"There are so many about that many times I cannot go to sleep for the
noise they make."
"Noise!" said his sister reproachfully.
"Yes, when it is dinned into one's ears so much, any singing becomes
noisy."
Frank thought his friend was joking, but about ten o'clock they were
strolling about the grounds in the bright moonlight, and then they heard
nightingales singing all round them. The boys thought they had never
heard such sweet sounds. First the song would commence with an intensely
sweet, low, single note or pipe. Then would follow a strong clear flood
of melody which was entrancing in its richness. Then the bird would
cease, and in a few seconds another bird would answer from a little
distance. Then the first one would reply, and a third would take up the
strain from a different quarter. The moonlight silence of the night, the
ravishing strains of bird music which made the grove vocal, and the
heavy fragrance of the flowers which floated on the dewy air, made the
evening most perfect and beautiful.