CHAPTER XXV
THE BOAT-RACE
It was Saturday morning.
Along the Ferry Hill shore, from the landing to a point half a milefurther downstream where the finish flags flew, students and villagers,the former in most cases accompanied by friends or relatives, stood, sator strolled at points of vantage. On the river white-sailed skiffs,chugging launches, gaudy canoes and more sober rowboats darted anddrifted across the sunlit water. It was the hottest sort of a Junemorning and only the steady little northerly breeze kept the heat frombeing intolerable to the spectators along shore.
The crews had gone up the river half an hour before, the men making thetrip to the starting point in comfortable launches, their shellsstreaking along in tow. The time for starting the race was already pastand everyone about the finish was eagerly awaiting the distant boom ofthe tiny brass cannon aboard the referee's launch which would announceto them that the struggle had begun two miles away.
From where Chub and Roy sat in the midst of a throng of onlookers on ahigh point of rock near the finish line the entire course was in sightsave for a space where Fox Island hid it. Away up the broad blue ribbonof water tiny specks that danced and glittered in the blaze of sunlighttold where the start was to be made, but only Sid, who was the proudpossessor of a pair of dilapidated field-glasses, could tell one boatfrom another. At last there was an excited grunt from that youth.
"They're off!" he cried. "I saw the smoke from the cannon on the Sylph!"
And in confirmation of his statement a low _boom_ came down to them onthe breeze. Everyone jumped to his feet and gazed intently up-stream.But only such as had glasses were able to throw any light on thesituation up there. Sid was popular and voluble.
"We're ahead, 'way ahead!" he cried excitedly. "About two lengths, Iguess."
"_Hooray!_" shrieked Patten.
"No, we're not, either," said Sid lamely. "I was looking at a launch. Ican't see our boat at all!"
"O--oh!" groaned the others.
"Yes, there it is! I think--it looks as though--"
"Well, out with it!" commanded Chub.
"I guess it's about a length behind," finished Sid.
But when half the course had been rowed it was possible to identify thetwo boats without the aid of field-glasses. Side by side they were, orvery nearly, and coming hard. Someone in the Ferry Hill shell wassplashing occasionally; they could see the water dash up into thesunlight. Then, still rowing about even, they were lost to sight behindthe island and suspense gripped the spectators. The seconds seemedminutes until, at last, the slim sharp bow of a boat shot into sightpast the lower end of the island. Followed a breathless moment until theback of the bow oar appeared. Then the group groaned as one man. Bowwore a white shirt; the Hammond shell was in the lead. Clear of theisland it came and still the rival boat didn't follow.
"Guess our boat's sunk," muttered Chub nervously.
Then another brown nose poked its way past the point and Ferry Hill,three lengths behind, but rowing hard, flashed into view. The crowd onthe shore vented its relief in a long yell. Maddox, the tiny coxswain,his megaphone strapped to his mouth, was bending forward and urging hiscrew onward. But three lengths is a good deal to make up in the lastquarter-mile of a hard race, especially when one of the crew is plainlyragged.
"Just look at Hadden!" moaned Thurlow. "He isn't pulling a pound!"
"Thinks he's a blooming geyser, I guess," said Chub disgustedly. "Seehim splash, will you? He's just about all in."
But Hammond's stroke was also showing the effects of the work and wasrowing woefully short. Inch by inch the brown shirts crept up on thewhite. At first, so slow was the gain, that no one noticed it. Then Chublet up a whoop of joy.
"We're after 'em!" he cried. "We're gaining on 'em!"
"Yes, but we can't cut down that lead," answered Roy, who had beenfreed from inner bounds for the race. "But we certainly are creepingup!"
"You just bet we are!" shrieked Sid. "Why, we're only two lengthsbehind! We--we aren't that much!"
"Length and a half," grunted Thurlow.
The two boats were almost abreast of them now and only a couple ofhundred yards remained. In and out dipped the red blades and the brown,forward and back bent the straining bodies, back and forth like shuttlesslid the two red-faced, shouting coxswains. The strident tones of Maddoxcame up to those on the hillside:
"Hit it up, now! Hit it up! Ten hard ones! One!... Two!... Three!..."
Ten hard ones made a difference. The bow of the Ferry Hill shell slid upto the stern of the rival boat. On the shore pandemonium reigned.Shouts, yells, shrieks, bellows; entreaty, command; a vocal jumble thatno one even heard! For below there on the flashing river the two boatswere crossing the finish line, Hammond a half length to the good! Downwent the white signal flag.
"Let her run!" cried the Hammond coxswain.
Past the judge's boat floated the shells, victor and vanquished, whileon the shore and in the watching craft spectators drew long breaths andturned homeward. In the Ferry Hill boat only Horace Burlen sat erect.Whitcomb was leaning weakly on his oar, Gallup's head was in his handsand Hadden was huddled limply while Maddox splashed water upon him.Hammond was paddling slowly around in a circle, coming back. Abreastof their defeated rivals they rested on their oars and cheered for FerryHill. And Ferry Hill cheered weakly for Hammond. And the boat-race was athing of the past.
"Ten hard ones made a difference"]
"Another fifty yards and we'd have had them," said Chub disappointedly.
"Surely," answered Roy. "But we certainly rowed the pluckiest kind of arace. Look at the way we overhauled them there at the last!"
"Fine!" said Thurlow.
"Swell!" said Sid.
And in this way they found surcease for their disappointment; which wasas it should have been. A race well rowed and won is something to beproud of; a race well rowed and lost may be quite as creditable. Pluckand sportsmanship is always the criterion, not merely victory. Many atime has a defeated crew or eleven taken off the first honors. FerryHill's game finish to a heart-breaking race--rowed, as the timers'watches proved, twelve seconds under record time for the course--morethan atoned for her defeat.
"After all," said Thurlow, "it wasn't that our crew was poorer than wethought it was, but that Hammond's was a blamed sight better. Why, wemust have finished six or seven seconds under the record!"
"Sure," answered Chub more cheerfully. "It was a dandy crew and Horacedeserved to win. If the fellows know their business they'll re-elect himfor next year. I don't like the chap a bit, but he certainly did row afine race!"
"That's right," responded the rest as they climbed the hill back toschool. And by the time the campus was reached they were all smiling asthough victory instead of defeat had fallen to their lot. All save Chub.Chub was very unhappy, but not over the race.
"Lots of good you did," he said to Roy as they made their way across tothe dormitory. "You might as well have squared yourself; we got beatanyhow."
"Maybe, but that doesn't change the--the ethics of the thing," repliedRoy.
"Ethics!" snorted Chub. "I'll bet ethics won't help us to win fromHammond this afternoon. Oh, I dare say it's all mighty fine and heroic,Roy, but it's blamed hard on me!"
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, I dare say, but you're not half as sorry as I am," answered theother ruefully. "Look here, now. The race is all over and done with.Let's go see Emmy now and tell him what we know. What do you say? Shallwe? He can't refuse to let you play."
But Roy shook his head.
"I'd rather not, Chub. I decided not to tell on Horace and I'm not goingto, ever. That's settled. Besides, Emmy wouldn't let me play now; he'dsay I ought to have told him as soon as I found it out."
"Wish to goodness you had," groaned Chub. "You're an obstinate beast,Roy. If I didn't like you so well I'd punch your fool head for you!"
Chub wasn't the only one disappointed and disgusted by Roy's stand.Harry had almost given way to tears when
she had learned of hisresolution.
"After all my trouble!" she had wailed. "I don't think it's very--veryappreciative of you, Roy Porter!"
But in the end she, like Chub and Jack, had been bound to secrecy,promising not to tell her father. That she hadn't been cautioned againsttelling anyone else had been merely because Roy had known her ability tokeep her own counsel.
"I suppose he will let you come and watch the game, won't he?" askedChub as they parted on the stairway.
"Yes, he gave me permission to see both the race and the game," answeredRoy. "And I'll be there, never fear. I'm going to help Hadden and Colewith the cheering."
"Well, so long. I'll see you at dinner. We're going out at two-thirty.You'd better come along."
The breeze died away about noon and when, at half-past two, the nine andsubstitutes went out to the field and the spectators began to assemble,the heat was almost unbearable. But it was a good baseball day, forafter one has once begun to perspire freely he can play ball to theKing's taste. Hammond trotted on to the diamond soon after Ferry Hilland went to work practicing Ferry Hill remaining at the batting netuntil a quarter to three. Then the two nines changed places and Mr. Cobbbegan knocking out the ball.
The stands were well filled by three o'clock and fans were wavinglustily. Along one edge of the field Hammond Academy's supporters,nearly a hundred strong, squatted on the grass and strove to keep theburning rays of the sun from their faces by using their flags andpennants as screens. Across the diamond Ferry Hill had assembled,fortunate in having the stand behind them to throw some shade where theysat. Roy and Hadden and Cole were to lead the cheering and to this endhad armed themselves with brown megaphones. Coats were discarded, whileon the seats green and white and brown sunshades made brilliant blots ofcolor. In the center of the main stand sat Doctor Emery, Mrs. Emery andHarry, and with them as guests of honor were Doctor Hammond, Principalof the rival academy, and his wife. It looked at first glance as thoughHarry had joined the enemy, in spite of the brown banner she carried,for in her lap was something hued much like the Hammond's brilliantcolor. But it was only Roy's sweater which, having been repaired, Harryhad brought along to return to its owner. An enterprising citizen ofSilver Cove was doing a rushing business selling "ice-cold drinks! Lemonpop, sarsaparilla _and_ root beer! Who's next?"
At two minutes past the hour Chub and O'Meara, respectively captains ofFerry Hill and Hammond, met at the plate and watched the umpire spin acoin.
"Heads!" cried O'Meara.
"Tails," said the umpire, stooping to rescue the coin. "What do youwant?"
"We'll take the field," replied Chub.
Then out they trotted, nine sturdy young figures in grey suits andbrown and white striped stockings, while Roy, Hadden and Cole shooktheir megaphones and students and graduates and friends shoutedenthusiastically.
"Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill!" rang the slogan, "Rah, rah, rah!Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Ferry Hill!"
Hammond answered promptly. Then Ferry Hill cheered for Hammond andHammond returned the compliment. The umpire walked down to his positionbehind pitcher, tossed a nice, shiny white ball to the redoubtable Post,Ferry Hill's crack pitcher, and casually remarked:
"Play ball!"