The Willoughby Captains Part 22

The Parrett's fellows were already crowing in antic.i.p.ation, and the victory of Bloomfield's boat was only waited for as a final ground for resisting the authority of any captain but their own. Their boat was certainly one of the best which the school had turned out, and compared with their compet.i.tors' it seemed as if nothing short of a miracle could prevent its triumph.

But the schoolhouse fellows, little as they expected to win, were meaning to make a hot fight of it. They were on their mettle quite as much as their rivals. Ever since Wyndham had left, the schoolhouse had been sneered at as having no pretensions left to any athletic distinction. They meant to put themselves right in this particular--if not in victory, at any rate in a gallant attempt.

And so the schoolhouse boat might be seen out early and late, doing honest hard work, and doing it well too. Strict training was the order of the day, and scarcely a day pa.s.sed without some one of the crew adding to his usual labours a cross-country run, or a hard grind in the big tub, to better his form. These extraordinary exertions were a source of amus.e.m.e.nt to their opponents, who felt their own superiority all the more by witnessing the efforts put forth to cope with it; and even in the schoolhouse there were not a few who regarded all the work as labour thrown away, and as only adding in prospect to the glorification of the enemy.

However, Fairbairn was not the man to be moved by small considerations such as these. He did not care what fellows said, or how much they laughed, as long as Porter swung out well at the reach forward, and Coates straightened his back, and Gilks pulled his oar better through from beginning to end. To secure these ends he himself was game for any amount of work and trouble, and no cold water could damp either his ardour or his hopefulness.

But the chief sensation with regard to the training of the schoolhouse boat was the sudden appearance of Riddell as its c.o.xswain. As the reader has heard, the new captain had already been out once or twice "on the quiet" in the pair-oar, and during these expeditions he had learned all he knew of the art of navigation. The idea of his steering the schoolhouse boat had never occurred either to himself or Fairbairn when he first undertook these practices at the solicitation of his friend.

But after a lesson or two he showed such promise that the idea did strike Fairbairn, who mentioned it to one or two of his set and asked their advice.

These judges were horrified naturally at the idea. Riddell was too heavy, too clumsy, too nervous. But Fairbairn was loth to give up his idea; so he went to Mr Parrett, and asked him if he would mind running with the schoolhouse pair-oar during the next morning's spin, and watching the steering of the new captain. Mr Parrett did so; and was not a little pleased with the performance, but advised Fairbairn to try him in the four-oar before deciding.

Fairbairn, delighted, immediately broached the subject to his friend.

Poor Riddell was astounded at such a notion.

_He_ c.o.x the schoolhouse boat in the regatta!

"My dear fellow," said he to Fairbairn. "I'm not a very exalted personage in Willoughby as it is--but this would be the finishing stroke!"

"What do you mean--that it's _infra dig._ to c.o.x the boat?"

"Oh no!" said Riddell, "anything but that. But it might be _infra dig._ for the boat to be steered into the bank in the middle of the race."

"Humbug, if that's your only reason. Anyhow, old man, come down and try your hand in the four to-morrow morning."

Riddell protested that the idea was absurd, and that he wouldn't hear of it. But Fairbairn reasoned him down. He hadn't steered them into the bank since the second morning--he hadn't tried steering the four-oar, how did he know he couldn't do it? Mr Parrett had advised the trial strongly, and so on.

"No," said he, "the only question is your weight. You'd have to run off a bit of that, you know."

"Oh," said Riddell, "as to that, you can take as many pounds off me as you like; but--"

"None of your buts, old man," said Fairbairn. "I say, if we only were to win, with you as c.o.x, what a score it would be!"

"None of your `ifs,' old man," said Riddell, laughing. "But I'll come to-morrow, if you are determined to have your way."

"Of course I am," said Fairbairn.

This conversation took place the evening that young Wyndham was taking tea with Silk and Gilks in the study of the former.

The intelligence that the new captain was to be taken out to steer the schoolhouse boat mysteriously got wind before the evening was over, and spread over the school like wildfire. Consequently, when Riddell arrived at the boat-house in the morning, he was surprised and horrified to find that nearly all Willoughby was awake and down at the river banks to see him.

It was embarra.s.sing certainly, and when presently the crew got into their seats and a start was made, it became evident the new c.o.xswain was anything but at home in his new position. The boat was a long time getting clear of the landing stage owing to his persistently mistaking in his flurry his right hand for his left, and then when it did get out into mid-stream the same reason prevented him from discovering that the reason why the boat would turn round instead of going straight was because he had his right cord pulled hard the whole time.

This spectacle, as may be imagined, afforded intense gratification to the curious onlookers, and many and hilarious were the shouts which fell on the ears of the unlucky captain.

"Oh, well c.o.xed there!" one voice cried.

"Well steered in a circle!" shouted another.

"Mind you don't knock the bank down," yelled a third.

"Pull your right there!"

"Try him without the rudder. See if he don't steer better that way."

In the midst of these uncomplimentary shouts the boat slowly wended its erratic course up the river, amidst crowds of boys on either bank.

"Riddell, old man," said Fairbairn, leaning forward from his place at stroke, "what's the row?"

It only needed a friendly voice to recall the captain to himself. By an effort he forgot about the crowds and turned a deaf ear to the shouts, and straightening himself, and taking the lines steadily in his hands, looked up quietly at his friend. Richard was himself again.

"Now then!" cried Fairbairn to his men behind, "row all!" and he led them off with a long steady stroke.

For a little distance the boat travelled well. Riddell kept a good course, and the whole crew worked steadily. The scoffers on the bank were perplexed, and their jeers died away feebly. This was not a crew of m.u.f.fs a.s.suredly. Those first twenty or thirty yards were rowed in a style not very far short of the Parrett's standard, and Parson himself, the best c.o.x of Parrett's house, could hardly have taken the boat down that reach in a better course.

There was something ominous in this. But, to the great relief of the unfriendly critics, this showy lead was not maintained. Before a hundred yards were completed something seemed to go wrong in the boat.

It rolled heavily and wavered in its course. What was wrong?

The fault was certainly not in Fairbairn, who kept doggedly to work in perfectly even style. Nor, to all appearance, was it in Riddell. He was evidently puzzled by the sudden unsteadiness of the boat, but no one could lay it to his charge.

"Who's that digging behind?" cried Fairbairn over his shoulder.

None of the other three owned the soft impeachment, and the boat seemed to right itself of its own accord.

Fairbairn, whose temper was never improved by perplexities, quickened his stroke, and gave his men a spell of hard work for a bit to punish them.

This seemed to have a good effect, and once again the onlookers were startled to see how steadily and fast the boat was travelling. But once again the mysterious disturbance interrupted their progress.

This time Fairbairn stopped short, and turning round demanded angrily who it was who was playing the fool, for an effect like this could only be put down to such a course. Porter, Coates, and Gilks all repudiated the suggestion, and once more, amid the ironical cheers of the onlookers, Fairbairn resumed his work and lashed viciously out with his oar.

This last protest of his seemed to have had the desired effect, for during the rest of the journey up to the Willows the boat travelled fairly well, though it was evident plenty of work was needed before the crew could be considered in proper racing trim. But no sooner had they turned and started for the home journey than once again the rolling suddenly became manifest. Fairbairn rowed on a stroke or two without apparently noticing it, then turning sharply round in the middle of a stroke he discovered the reason.

The blade of Gilks's oar was about a foot under the surface, and he himself was lurching over his seat, with the handle of the oar up to about his chin.

"What on earth do you mean by it?" demanded Fairbairn, angrily.

"Mean by what?" asked Gilks.

"By playing the fool like that; that's what I mean," retorted Fairbairn.

"Who was playing the fool?" snarled Gilks. "How can I help catching a crab when he's constantly turning the boat's head in the middle of a stroke?"

"All rot!" said Fairbairn.

"All very well for you at stroke," said Gilks, viciously. "You come and row bow and see if you don't feel it. I'd like to know who could keep his oar straight with such steering."

"If you'd row half as well as he steers," said Fairbairn, "you'd row a precious sight better than you do! You'd better take care, Gilks."