A LUCKY WIN
"Listen, boys!"
When the coxswain said this, every fellow as the oars strained his
hearing, under the belief that Brad had something mighty interesting to
communicate. Possibly some of them, having their eyes constantly on the
coxswain, had seen by his manner that Brad must have discovered
something down-stream. But no one dared try and twist his head around,
in order to see for himself.
"Don't anybody try to look," Brad went on; "but we're going to have a
little brush right now. Buck and his bunch have got that boat from
Grafton, and, finding out that we are expected to pass down the river
this afternoon, they've been lying in wait for us!"
Every fellow gave utterance to an exclamation, or a whistle, to
indicate both his astonishment, and pleasure as well.
"Now, keep on working regularly as you are, and brace yourselves, every
fellow, for a furious spurt, if we have to make one. Might as well
learn what our boat can do, first as last. Take care how you dip in,
because a crab would upset us all. They've struck the middle of the
river now, and are letting us catch up on them. I can see Whitey, Clem
Shooks, Jones, Jimmerson and Ben Gushing, anyway. And they're grinning
as if they meant to make monkeys of the Riverport Boat Club boys. Shall
we stand for it, fellows?"
Evidently Brad knew just how to key his crew up to doing their best;
for his question was instantly answered with a thunderous:
"Not much we won't!"
"Get ready, then, because we're bearing down on 'em fast now," the wary
coxswain continued, in a husky voice, caused by the excitement, no
doubt. "There, they've increased their stroke so that we will come up
slower, and not take the advantage from them at the start. It's a race,
fellows! Let's pitch in now, and overtake the outlaw crew!"
Brad knew that the greatest danger lay in one of the boys becoming so
worked up that he would miss a stroke, and "catch a crab," in boating
language. This would cause him to break the stroke of the entire crew,
if it did nothing more serious; and give the race to their rivals.
And so he continued to speak warning words to them as he regulated his
motions, and the stroke in turn.
"Easy there Sid, old fellow; don't try to rush things. Keep in line
with Fred, because he's the stroke oar, you know. That was a fine one.
Again and yet again, boys! Now we're on even terms with 'em, and we're
bound to go ahead, believe me!"
"Like fun you are!" called out Buck Lemington, being close enough to
catch what Brad was saying.
Perhaps Buck added just a little more speed to his motions, rendered
desperate by the fact that thus far he and his fellows had not been
able to keep the other shell from gradually cutting down the lead they
had in the beginning.
No matter what he did, he must have helped stop this gain on the part
of Brad's crew. Now the two boats were rushing swiftly down the river,
neck and neck, as it were, and going at a speed that seemed marvelous
to these boys, unused to anything of the sort.
For a short time both crews seemed to be working with clock-like
regularity; and it would have won the praise of an old boating man just
to have watched them. Of course this could hardly last, for they were
both sadly lacking in practice; and at almost any second one of the
sixteen lads was apt to be taken with a sudden cramp, or miss his
stroke, throwing his crew into confusion, and perhaps upsetting the
boat in the excitement.
But they could all swim now, even Bristles Carpenter; so the worst that
could happen, should such an accident overtake them, would be the loss
of the race, and the consequent disappointment.
To have those fellows with Buck Lemington crowing over them, would be a
bitter pill to Brad's crew. And they were really doing their level best
to avoid such a punishment.
There was the town of Mechanicsburg right ahead of them. Brad hoped
that the river might be quite free of boats that would interfere with
the passage of the two fleet racers. To have to dodge any pleasure
craft would mar the sport, and give one or the other an unfair
advantage.
It was a square race, and Brad wanted to see the best crew win.
Naturally he hoped it would fall to his side to arrive at the Riverport
bridge ahead; but it must be a clean, fair win to satisfy him; for
trickery and Brad Morton did not pull together very well.
Of course the two boats did not always keep exactly on even terms. As
one or the other crew exerted themselves a trifle beyond the ordinary
there would be a little change. Sometimes it was the outlaw crew that
made this gain; and then, on the other hand, Brad would do something to
not only even up, but take them a quarter of a boat's length ahead.
It was what might be called a heart-breaking row, and seemed to be
anybody's race at the time they shot past Mechanicsburg.
A few score of people were seen running to the river's edge, shouting
their astonishment and delight. Nobody paid the slightest heed to them,
however, for the warmth of the race occupied their attention.
And now there were only three more miles before they would arrive at
the railroad bridge, which must be accepted as the final goal.
Going down-stream, and at the amazing speed they were now traveling,
three miles could not take much time.
"Keep it up, fellows, and we win!" Brad said, again and again, almost
unconsciously; for he was watching the river ahead closely for signs of
a rock which he knew lay under the surface at a certain point, with an
eddy betraying its presence.
He hoped Buck was also aware of its being there, for really it would be
too bad if the other boat, with such a history back of it, should be
finally wrecked. Brad was almost tempted to shout out a warning, when
he saw with one look behind, that, judging from the change in course,
Buck was fighting shy of the dangerous quarter. He had been brought up
on the banks of the Mohunk, and ought to be acquainted with every foot
of ground and water in the vicinity.
The pace had now reached the limit. Neither of the young crews seemed
capable of doing any more. But Brad made a discovery that appalled him.
Colon was weakening! The boy had received such a shock on the previous
day, when he came so near being drowned in the river, that he was not
in as good condition for bearing the tremendous nervous strain as the
balance of the crew.
Brad recognized the signs, and feared the worst. Unless they could
relax presently Colon would have to give up exhausted. And, of course,
that would lose them the race.
It was too bad, and Brad, being a high-spirited lad, would feel the
defeat keenly; but he was determined not to take too great chances.
When he saw that Colon had reached the limit he meant to slacken the
pace, no matter what happened, nor how much the crew shouted at him for
a "quitter."
Buck's boat was coming on again now. Brad doubted whether they had been
able to put any fresh vim into their efforts, for that seemed next to
impossible, since already every fellow was straining his muscles to the
limit. It must be that the growing weakness of Colon was beginning to
make itself felt.
Well, what they could not cure they must endure. Colon was too good a
fellow to take chances of doing him an injury that would put him off
the crew indefinitely. They needed his strong back in that real race
with Mechanicsburg.
The others had by now discovered that the outlaw boat was slowly
forging ahead, and that, despite all their efforts, the gain continued.
Slowly they could see each opposing oarsman creeping along; and it was
discouraging to feel that after all Buck seemed to have the better
"stayers" in his crew.
Already they could hear the low, taunting remarks which the others were
calling out, and they stung. Defeat is hard enough to stand, when
pitted against honorable, high-minded fellows, whose first thought is
to give an encouraging cheer for their whipped rivals; but it is doubly
painful when forced to listen to all manner of insulting remarks from
rough lads devoid of decent feelings, and only bent upon "rubbing it
in."
Brad had really lost all hope. He was even about to throw up the
sponge, and slacken the pace to such an extent that the people of
Riverport, seeing the two boats coming down the river so far apart,
would never think they had been racing.
Then something happened, unexpectedly, as it always does in a boat
race.
Brad heard a sudden loud snap. He saw that the crew in the other boat
seemed to be floundering around in the utmost confusion. One fellow
even toppled overboard, though he immediately clutched hold of the
speeding boat, and was dragged along with it.
Like a race horse, the boat containing the regular Riverport crew shot
past the disabled outlaw craft. Buck was shouting in his disgust. He
even shook his fist at his rivals as they went on speeding down the
river; and they caught the tenor of his remarks.
"We had you beat good and plenty, never fear, only for that pesky
outrigger bustin' on us! Next time we'll rub it in all the harder. You
fellers had all the luck to-day. Just wait, that's all!"
And so good fortune saved the day for Brad and his crew, when all
seemed lost.