Lyman seemed in very good shape, though a little anxious—as was no more than natural—about Loring and Simmonds, while the most insouciant, daring looking man in the boat to-day, is that haughty, imperious looking fellow who sits in the bow, Joseph Story Fay, a man of proud will, self confidence, and great endurance. He sits seeming a careless observer of the preparatory and technical part of the programme, but those keen, watchful eyes, that seem to stab like a knife, are bent with no little solicitude on the Oxford boat, which is almost stationary a few yards distant.
The Harvard crew had a manly, bold look, taking them in a mass, and a sombre, matured appearance, their bodies and faces stained deep yellow, like a crew of Indians, and they also sat, if I may use the word, taller in their boat than the Oxford crew did in theirs.
CONDITION OF THE MEN.
The Oxford crew were boyish, fresh-faced fellows, compared with them, their light skins and hair making them look more juvenile in appearance, and beside, they had not such an ascetic look as the Harvards, who had lived more like monks than athletes, without any amusement or even beer—for weeks training themselves to death, and working body and mind too much. The Harvard crew seemed anxious and careworn, when their faces were studied, and they were certainly not in good training condition for the race.
Loring had worked like a horse, pulling long distances in broiling suns; and the crew when together had a bad fashion of rowing the whole course, while the Oxford men contented themselves with a pull of a couple of miles at a time, being careful not to overdo the business. Then, on Sunday the Oxford men always went down to the sea-shore at Brighton, and drank beer moderately and ate fruit in a jolly sort of a way, and plenty of roast meats, while the Harvard men lived to some extent on farinaceous food and porridge and figs and mutton, a favorite dish of theirs when roasted—and to be brief, they were too anxious to win, and the consequence came in the shape of a fidgetty, nervous, and overtrained condition.
Besides, the stroke of the Harvard crew was too labored and fiery and energetic to last, for the amount of powder belonging to them. The arms were with them the great impelling power, and the recover was too high up in the chest, while the Oxford men recovered a little above the pit of the stomach, which is less wearisome and distressing. In catching the oar forward they expended too much force, and spent a great deal of strength in dropping it, while their strength would have been better used in holding the water just before the recovery.
The coxswain, too, was naturally uncertain of his Stroke and Simmonds, both men being in poor condition; and Loring told him before the race, in case that he flagged to sprinkle his face and that of Simmonds, with water. This alone was enough to make Burnham rather shaky, and not a little doubtful of his crew. A few lengths lost by wild steering or nervousness, and it would be of course impossible to win in the case of two crews so very closely matched otherwise. I say all this advisedly, and I am sure the conclusion will bear out my premises. In addition, they had tried half a dozen boats while in training, and displaced two of their crew. Whether it was wise to make this change or not, I have no means of knowing, and cannot say.
The Oxford crew having paddled their boat a little nearer the Press steamer, I now had a good look at them. They all had a fresh, fair, English look, and were not, as far as I could see, at all fagged before going into the race. Darbishire, the Stroke, was the first man who caught my eye. He did not look at all burly in frame, and his figure was lower in the thwarts of the boat by a head, than that of the gigantic-framed Cornwall Celt, Mr. Tinne.
Darbishire had a merry blue eye and a turn-up nose, indicating good humor. His body was well set, his shoulders compact, and his hair, though short, had a proclivity to curl and kink. He had a broad forehead, a mouth a little turned down at the corners and arching, and his chin was moderately firm.
Yarborough was far more determined in his look, and sported a pair of thin, mutton-chop whiskers. He was the darkest-skinned and darkest-eyed man in the Oxford boat, besides being a fine oarsman and a victor of many college matches. His nose was of the snub order, and the chin dimpled, the forehead being broad and white, and the hair, like Darbishire's, inclined to curl. He was what would be a "big small" man, and was as compact and tough as a hickory nut.