THE START OF THE RACE
The great day of the boat race between Riverport and Mechanicsburg
opened with a clear sky. This made happy the hearts of the hundreds of
young people belonging to the two towns on the Mohunk River.
Daily the husky crew of the town up the river had been busily engaged
in practicing; and all sorts of ominous rumors were current among the
more timid Riverport boys and girls as to the astonishing speed they
had shown.
But when those who had faith in the ability of their own crew to come
in ahead heard these tales, they only laughed, and nodded, as though
they felt no fear. As to the ability of their rivals to "make circles"
around the boys of Riverport, did they not realize that these stories
were being industriously circulated for the very purpose of making them
count the race lost even before it was started?
The clever coach, Corney Shays' father, warned them against believing
anything of this sort. He said it was an old trick, and had been used
by college men as far back as he could remember.
"Just believe you can do the job up clean, and pay attention to
everything your coxswain tells you; and it'll come out right," he
declared.
Early in the afternoon crowds began to assemble along the banks of the
river, where the course had been marked off. Those in charge, being a
committee of older pupils from each school, had taken all necessary
precautions looking to having a clear course. They had also marked the
turning point, where the rival boats must start on the return trip
toward the home goal.
This latter was a boat anchored in the middle of the river, and bearing
a large red flag, with the words "Stake Boat" in white. Each contestant
had to turn this, without fouling, in heading for home; and the one
capable of accomplishing this with as little waste of time and distance
as possible would gain an advantage that might count heavily in the
final result.
It was indeed a gay scene about half-past three that afternoon; the
time of the race being scheduled for four exactly. Thousands of people
lined both banks of the river, for the entire country had become deeply
interested in the result, and taken sides, one way or the other.
While Paulding had no proper boat club as yet, evidently every boy and
girl attending school there, together with many older persons, had
flocked to witness the sight of a river regatta so near at hand.
School flags were waving everywhere, and class cheers accompanied their
appearance, as the young people gathered in groups, the better to chant
their patriotic songs.
When the long shell from above came speeding down to the starting
point, the occupants were given a rousing welcome from friends and foes
alike. For everybody admired the game, sportsmanlike qualities of those
Mechanicsburg fellows.
"Who are they all, Flo?" asked Cissy Anderson, as she cuddled down
alongside her chum, who was using a field glass; the girls being in the
midst of a group that had a particularly fine place for witnessing the
start and close of the race.
"Oh! we know everyone of them, because they've figured in the battles
on the diamond and the gridiron," replied Flo.
"Wagner, of course, is among them; they say he has been made the
coxswain of the Mechanicsburg crew; and then there must be Sherley, who
was such a dear captain in their football games last fall; yes, and
Waterman and Gould, too."
"That's right, Cissy," the girl with the glasses continued; "and
Hennessy is stroke oar, for I can tell him by his big, bushy crop of
hair. He makes me think of Bristles Carpenter, who, they say, is
pulling a wonderful oar these days. Let's see, there's Harkness, too,
and Boggs--how many is that, Cissy? Just six oarsmen, you say? Well, I
can see Smith there, I'm sure; and the other, why, of course it's that
fussy Bob Jones. Don't they look splendid; and how evenly they pull."
"You don't think now, for a minute, do you, Flo, that they can beat our
boys?" the other girl asked, somewhat fearfully.
"Of course I don't, silly," replied Flo, who had the utmost confidence
in the sterling ability of Fred and his fellows to hold their own, no
matter whether on the football field, the baseball diamond, in a hotly
contested hockey match on the ice, a snowball battle, or in athletic
sports; and consequently in aquatic matters as well.
"There comes Sid and the rest!" exclaimed Cissy; just as though, in her
eyes at least, the whole chance of success for the Riverport boys lay
in the stalwart figure of Sid Wells alone.
As Brad Morton led his eight sparsely-clad young oarsmen from the new
building, bearing the glistening and carefully kept shell on their
shoulders, a cheer started that gained force as it ran along the crowds
lining the banks of the river, until it died away far in the distance.
It had been decided to use the up-river course. And as the stake boat,
which was to mark both the start and finish, was directly opposite
Riverport, the turning point upstream must be just a mile and a half
away; for the course was intended to represent exactly three miles,
which was considered a long enough pull for young crews.
The first half would be against the strong current of the Mohunk, now
pretty high for the beginning of summer; but when the two rival boats
had made the turn, they could come down with greater speed. It was this
rush along the home stretch that all of the spectators were most
anxious to witness. And this accounted for the throngs on both shores
of the river near where the boat containing the judges of the race was
anchored.
It was now getting very close to four o'clock, and everybody began to
breathe with eagerness, and possibly a little anxiety. No matter how
loud the adherents of each school may have shouted for their colors,
when it came right down to a question of supremacy the opposing crew
began to loom up as a very dangerous factor; and they felt a faintness
come into their hearts while watching the splendid way the rival eight
carried themselves.
"They're getting them placed in line!" shouted a small fellow, who
carried a megaphone almost as long as himself, and through which his
voice carried as far as a mile, when he strained himself to give a
yell.
This was a cousin of tall, long-legged Colon, and whose name of
Harrison had long ago given way to that of Semi-Colon, to distinguish
him from his big relative.
"Look at poor old Buck Lemington; would you?" remarked another, close
to the bevy of girls around Flo Temple and Cissy Anderson. "He's in an
ugly humor to-day, because he threw away his chance to be pulling an
oar in our boat, and went off to get up a boat club of his own."
"And then smashed his shell on a snag the first thing," continued
Semi-Colon, who had heard what was said.
"Wasn't it just like him to try and say poor Clem Shooks was to blame,
when everybody knows it must have been only Buck's fault, because he
didn't remember about that stump under the water," one of the girls
remarked.
"And I even guess he'd have cared precious little if our boat had been
burned up, when some of those tramps, they say, tried to set things on
fire," a second girl broke out with; which remark appeared to amuse
Semi-Colon very much, for he roared through his megaphone the word:
"Tramps! Ha! Ha!"
Evidently, while officially it had been decided to keep secret the
facts connected with the finding of the bottle of kerosene and the
rags, at the time Conrad Jimmerson was caught in Colon's trap, enough
had leaked out among the boys connected with Riverport school to give
them a pretty fair idea Buck must have been the leading spirit behind
the miserable game.
"Silence there! the referee wants you to keep still while he says
something to the crews!" roared a heavy voice through a megaphone.
"He's going to advise 'em what not to do," broke out Semi-Colon, for
the benefit of the girls; "and that a willful foul with carry a
penalty. There goes Coach Shays in that little launch; he's going to
get in that car belonging to Judge Colon, and be whirled along the
road, which keeps pretty near the river all the way. So you see, he can
every little while shout out his directions to the coxswain."
"There, the referee is talking to them now," said Flo Temple, plainly
excited, since the critical moment was at hand. "Oh! don't I just hope
our boys will leave them away behind right in the beginning! Because,
they say that the first one around the turning boat will have a big
advantage. Every second on the down-current will put yards between
them, that the second boat may never be able to make up."
"Brad Morton knows that, make up your mind, girls; and he won't let
those Mechanicsburg fellows turn first, if he can help it," Semi-Colon
advised.
"That's it, if he can help it!" mocked a girl near by, who was boldly
waving the banner of the up-river town right in the stronghold of the
rival school.
"Watch, they're going to start!" cried Cissy Anderson, shrilly.
Every sound seemed to cease like magic, as doubtless thousands of eager
eyes saw that the decisive moment was at hand.
Then suddenly there came the sharp report of a pistol, which they all
knew was to be the signal that would send those two boats forward with
all the power that sixteen pairs of trained and muscular arms could
bring to bear in exact unison!
Immediately a roar arose.