The Willoughby Captains Part 30

The towing-path was jealously kept clear for the schoolboys, who trooped down in force the moment after lunch, and took possession of their places along the course. Some crowded at the starting-point. These were chiefly the more athletic heroes of the school, whose flannels and running-shoes bespoke their intention of following the race on foot.

Others, less actively inclined, ma.s.sed at various critical points along the course, some at the finish, but more opposite Willow Point, which being just three-quarters of the way down, and almost within view of the goal, was generally considered the most advantageous point of view of the whole race.

At this point, in a snug corner above the path, with a fine view of the sharp bend of the river, and of the reaches up and down stream which met there, sat Gilks and Silk. They knew probably as well as any one that the crisis of the race was pretty sure to be played out at Willow Corner, and not a few late comers looked up at their commanding perch with envy.

"Where's the young 'un?" said Silk.

"Running with the race," said Gilks. "I couldn't dissuade him. He's gone daft over the thing."

Silk laughed.

"I'm afraid it'll be a blow to him, then. Young fool. I say, he was at his father confessor's last night. I wonder if he'll let out about Sat.u.r.day night?"

"Not he. That is," said Gilks, viciously, "I don't think he will."

"Well, it might be warmish for him if he did."

"Very warmish," said Gilks, with a scowl, which it was just as well for Wyndham's comfort he did not see.

There was a silence, during which Gilks whistled to himself, and Silk regarded his ally with a smile.

"You are a nice boy!" he broke out presently. And the laugh which greeted this very unoriginal observation closed the conversation for a time.

Meanwhile, down at the boat-house things were getting very lively.

Telson, Philpot, Pilbury, Cusack, King, and other of our juvenile friends, who, with their usual modesty, proposed to run along with the race, and now formed part of the crowd which awaited the start, kept up a boisterous chorus of shouts, some of defiance, some of derision, some of applause, addressed alternately to foe and friend.

The young Welchers especially, having no personal interest in the race, felt themselves delightfully free to make themselves objectionable to all parties, and took full advantage of the circ.u.mstance.

They howled at everybody and everything. Whenever King and Bosher greeted the appearance of the Parrett's boat with a friendly cheer they hooted; and no sooner did Telson sing out to welcome the crew of his house, but they caterwauled derisively in the same direction.

"Jolly lot _they_ know about rowing!" yelled Cusack.

"Why don't you give them some lessons?" retorted Telson, hotly.

"Boo--hoo! Who got kicked out his boat! Young muller, couldn't steer a tub."

"I'll tub you, young Pilbury, see if I don't, presently," replied Telson.

"Never mind them," shouted King, "can't even make up a boat; pack of funks, all of them!"

"Hullo! who are you?" cried Philpot, rounding on these new a.s.sailants.

"We'd have a boat, never fear, if there was any chance of fair play."

"Lot of fair play you'd want, to turn the boat round and round and catch crabs every other second!"

"There are our fellows!" cried Wyndham, raising a loud cheer as Fairbairn, Coates, Porter, Crossfield, and Riddell appeared on the landing stage.

"Hurrah! schoolhouse, hurrah!"

"Ye-ow, look at them--there's a lot!" hooted the Welchers.

"There's old Parson!" yelled Telson, Bosher, and King, as the youthful hero in question strutted magnificently down to the landing.

"What cheer, stuck-up jacka.s.s?" howled the Welchers, with an insulting laugh; "why don't you grin?"

This remark was suggested by Parson grandly waving his handkerchief and smiling to his admiring friends.

But it is time to quit these friends and make our way to the boats themselves, which now lie waiting for their crews to embark.

This is always a tedious process for onlookers. The shifting of stretchers, the getting-out of oars, the arrangement of rudder strings, and the delicate tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of the boat, may be interesting enough to the crews themselves, but only feed the impatience of onlookers.

And as usual hitches are bound to occur. Coates has got the oar belonging to Crossfield. And when this mistake has been remedied, Bloomfield in the other boat suddenly discovers that his stretcher is a little weak, and insists on waiting till a new one is brought.

Finally everything is ready, and the two boats slowly swing out into mid-stream. The schoolhouse boat has won the toss, for it takes up the inside berth, amid the triumphant cheers of its partisans.

"Hurrah! you're inside," they cry.

"Mind you put them into the bank," is the derisive echo of the enemy.

"Now, Fairbairn; now, you fellows," cries Wyndham's voice.

"Now, boss Riddell--mind your eye. Pull your left when you want to go right," shout the facetious Welchers.

Riddell had long got past the stage of being flurried by shouts from the bank. He feels nervous undoubtedly, but he does not look it, as he quietly tries his rudder-lines and settles himself on his seat.

Fairbairn is as cool as ever. To look at him he might be just starting for a quiet saunter up-stream. And the crew behind him are equally composed, as they lie on their oars waiting for the start.

But the Parrett's crew, as they come smartly up and take their outside berth, receive an ovation far beyond that of their rivals. They are undoubtedly the popular crew, as well as the favourites.

Every man in the boat has done something for Willoughby in times past, and as the boys see their heroes ready now for a fresh triumph, they forget all about their little tyrannies indoors, and cheer them like mad.

"Bravo Parrett's. Bravo, Bloomfield! Hurrah, captain! You're to win."

Even the Welchers for the moment join in the popular clamour.

"Go it, you cripples!" cries Cusack, encouragingly; "no milksop captains. Two to one on Bloomfield!"

All this time the boats are lying in position. Mr Parrett on the little steam-launch behind surveys them critically, and satisfies himself that all is square. Then he advances to the prow of his boat and shouts the usual question.

The next moment he gives the word, and the two boats dart forward like arrows from a bow, and the race has begun.

Gilks and Silk up above Willow Corner heard the shout which greeted the start, and turned anxiously towards the direction from which it came.

"They're off now!" said Silk, trying to appear more unconcerned than he really was.

"Yes; no mistake about it!" said Gilks, whose anxiety was certainly not less than that of his friend.

"How long before we see them?"