By agreement we rested through the middle of the day, and, in place of
our usual hearty dinner, took an early lunch. It was irksome, though,
to be quiet when so excited, and when, too, a multitude of pastimes were
suggested to our senses by the loveliness of that June day.
Mr Clare and Captain Mugford had gone to fish in the Race off the
extreme point.
When half-past one o'clock came, Harry, who seemed the most impatient,
proposed that we should go down to Bath Bay then, and wait there until
three, the hour of the race. That we agreed to, but left directions
with Clump to hurry our tutors up as soon as they returned, and have
them ready for the race.
We had time to launch our boat carefully, and take a nice swim, before
we descried our tutors, followed by Clump with a long musket, descending
the knoll toward us. So we hastened our dressing, and, when they
reached the beach, were ready to receive them in our extemporised
costume of blue shirts and white trousers. Captain Mugford was already
in a perspiration from his walk, and, what we boys also noticed with
delight, seemed somewhat blown. However, he was jolly, and, flourishing
the ever active handkerchief, proposed to Mr Clare that they should row
round Leander's Rock, and _let the boys follow them_! "But at a
respectful distance, remember, boys!" We laughed scornfully at his
chaff. Harry touched his cap like a middy, and promised for our boat
that it should keep at a _very_ "respectful distance."
It took but a short time to complete preparations. Our tutors threw off
hats, coats, and vests, and tied handkerchiefs about their heads. Then
they lifted their boat into the water, and stood smiling at the
excitement we could not help betraying. Clump was on his way to
Youngster's Wharf, where, at the proper moment, he was to give the
signal for starting by firing the musket. A flag waved from Leander's
Rock; another was flying over our heads. The clear water of the bay
soused in impatient little ripples against the boats we stood ready to
enter, as if to say, "Well, why don't you come on?" and then, purling a
few feet farther, skipped over the spar which was to be our goal. Clump
had reached Youngster's Wharf. Seeing that, we entered our boats,
seated ourselves carefully, balancing the oars ready to spring, and
waited the signal. I alone could see Clump; the oarsmen had their backs
to him. The long gun was brought up to his shoulder, and his eyes fixed
on us. I saw his finger twitch, and as the hammer fell, my body gave
way to help the start. The oarsmen, with their eyes on mine, acted in
sympathy, and every oar touched the water; but the old flintlock had
only snapped. How our adversaries laughed! The old man sprang about on
the rock like a wounded baboon. He was indignant at the failure. Again
we were in order. Again I saw the musket brought up. Bang! We were
off, and were opposite Youngster's Wharf before the smoke had cleared
from above Clump's head. The boats were side by side then.
Notwithstanding the eagerness with which I swayed forward with every
pull of the oars, and the frenzy that filled me, as in a moment more I
saw our tutors' boat drawing slightly ahead, I had to laugh at the
antics of Clump, who was rushing from side to side of his floating
staging, dancing up and down like a rheumatic lunatic, tossing his arms
wildly about his uncovered head, his face a kaleidoscope of grimaces,
while he shouted to each one of us by name, in encouragement, in
entreaty, in fear: "Oh, Massa Drake! pull, pull!" "Massa Walter! Massa
Walter! dus you let 'em beat!" "Day'se gwine ahead! Oh dear! oh dear!
oh dear!"
His voice was lost in another moment. We were nearly half across the
bay, and our tutors' boat a full length ahead. I saw that my crew were
too excited to do their best, so I called to them: "Boys, steady now!
Keep cool, cool. Only think of what your arms are doing."
"There, that's better already! We're gaining! Hurrah! Stick to it!"
"Come, boys," called Mr Clare. "Come, we can't wait for you longer!"
I believe that lent five pounds of extra strength to every arm in my
boat.
We were nearing Leander's Rock. Ay! and we were steadily gaining on our
tutors.
They, too, saw that, but could do no better. Having a steersman, gave
our boat an advantage of rounding the Rock closely.
We gained distance. In five minutes we were thirty or forty feet ahead.
But then, terrible to see, our adversaries made a spurt, and were coming
up again, hand over hand.
They gained, _gained_, gained, until their stern was opposite Harry's
oar-blade. I was almost wild with excitement. I called upon the boys,
with every entreaty I could think of, to pull harder; urging on Alfred,
who was evidently the weakest oar, and whose strength seemed waning.
But our tutors could not pull harder. They had done their best. Could
we but keep our speed.
So we went, without widening or lessening the distance between us, for a
hundred yards. But was it possible for us to hold out? How I prayed we
might! We neared Clump again. The comic sight cheered me. Truly, if
hopping about and entreaties could help us, what aid must that old
nigger give us. I almost expected to see him soar off to us, he looked
so like a crow taking flight.
"Fellows! keep a morsel of extra strength to use when we pass Clump,
then just let us put forth our utmost breath and strength for those
forty yards. But don't let our tutes gain. Look! look!"
But they were coming up--only by inches, to be sure, but coming.
We rushed past Youngster's Wharf. Clump stretched out his body as if to
pull us on.
Hurrah! hurrah! Their bow is a foot beyond our stern.
"Hi! hi! hi! Yah! yah! Hurrah! hurrah! My young--"
Splash!!!
Clump had pitched in sure enough, head first. But there was no stop to
our engines. Our tutors were four feet behind; but they were working
with a last hope and mad effort.
"One more, boys!"
Cr-u-a-nk! we touched the spar, slid over its roundness as it sunk
beneath our keel, and were on the soft beach--Victors!
We were crazy with joy, and completely used up. The boys jumped from
the boat and threw themselves, laughing hysterically, on the sand.
Our tutors only said, in tones of mingled chagrin and exhaustion, "Boys,
we are beaten, well and fairly;" and they pushed off again to pick up
Clump.
I do not know any successes or honours of after-life sweeter or more
satisfying than that boat victory.
Until bedtime, we remained just tired and happy enough to sit quietly
and talk over the events of the afternoon.
In resuming study for the few days before Saturday, we had in
anticipation for that time a fishing party on the rocks, for bass, which
were beginning to bite sharply, and for which our bait was lobster and
the crabs that were found under the small rocks at low tide.
In talking over the project together, Drake said he would not go this
time, but would wait to see our luck. Alfred Higginson expressed
neither assent nor dissent with the general arrangement, and of course
we supposed he was to be of our party, until Saturday came and we were
ready to start, poles, bait and basket in hand, when he was not to be
found. We wondered at his disappearance, but had no time to hunt him
up. Drake was there to see us off. The Captain and Mr Clare, who were
going with us, told Drake they thought that boat-race had proved too
much for him. He laughed, but was not as ready at an answer as usual.
Indeed, he appeared rather low-spirited. However, we started on our
excursion without a suspicion of the affair which prevented both fellows
from joining it. It afterwards appeared that Drake had addressed the
following note to Alfred Higginson on the day before the boat-race:--
"Cape ---, June 17, 1816.
"Alfred Higginson,
"Our quarrels have gone nearly far enough, disturbing the peace of our
entire company, and increasing the irritation between us. Let us
conclude the dissension in a thorough and honourable way that may
satisfy both and prove a final contest. After that I will agree to
strive not to give offence to you, and also to bear silently whatever
conceit and insults may escape you. Perhaps we may become friends.
But we cannot remain as we are. The blow you struck the other day
_must_ be answered for. _I ask satisfaction_, and the incompleteness
and vulgarity of a pugilistic encounter will not suit me. I propose,
therefore, as we cannot resort to the regular duel of pistols, (for
reasons so good and evident that I need not name them), that after the
example of the ancients, whose history we are now daily reading, we
have our combat. Arms of their fashion our ingenuity can supply, not
of the same materials, I know, but of wood, which should prove
effective enough for our purposes. I propose Saturday as the time,
when those who might otherwise disturb our meeting are absent: and I
propose the hold of the wreck as a suitable spot. Your sense of
honour will, of course, keep this affair secret, and I ask a speedy
reply.
"Drake Tregellin."
Only a warm, fierce, reckless-natured boy of fourteen could have hit
upon such an absurdly quixotic way of deciding a quarrel. Indian
combats between Red Indians in the Far West, the deeds of Sir Kenneth,
Saladin, and Coeur de Lion in his favourite "Talisman," and the entire
character of Drake's reading, had joined with and gathered romance from
his late study of Virgil to misdirect an innate chivalry.