HARVARD'S LIGHTNING STROKE.
No man that day who witnessed the start of the two boats—the terrific spring of the Harvard crew, and the cool, rythmical measure of the Oxford stroke—can ever forget that moment of moments, unless, indeed, his blood be thinner than water and his pulse of ice. The Harvard crew caught the water first, and were well on their way before the crowds were recovered from the shock. Loring swept away like a tiger after his prey, and Burnham—who had won the toss for choice of position, steered in on the Middlesex shore, the Oxford crew having won a blank, and having to keep in, consequently, on the Surrey side—showing very good judgment at first, and keeping his boat well under way. It was but a minute, and Harvard was a full length clear in the water of the Oxford boat, Loring pulling forty-two strokes a minute, and Simmond's elbows going backward and forward like a steam engine.
The Oxford crew, after a pause, recovered from their slight surprise, and fell into stroke as if a piece of mechanism were propelling their narrow shell. Darbishire is now rowing beautifully, and has settled down to hard work, while Tinne's great shoulders, bob up and down with superhuman energy, his glorious chest expanded to its full power, and he pulls with the magnificence of incarnate force, while "Little Corpus," the coxswain, is as quiet as a mouse, watching every stroke of the Harvard crew, as he sets in the stern sheets of the Oxford shell.
Oxford has started with thirty-eight strokes, and now, when Mr. Darbishire sees Loring putting on the steam at forty-four, he quickens his stroke to thirty-nine, and Hall gets the boat headed a little toward the Middlesex shore.
The Star and Garter is fast disappearing from the stern of the Press boat, and the Umpire's boat follows closely, neck and neck almost. The crowds at a place called the "Creek," where a little stream runs tributary to the Thames, are shouting "Oxford" all their might and main. Fay, in the bow of the Harvard boat, seems to hear the taunt, and begins to show evidence of his strength, by pulling the bow-side around slightly, which compels Burnham to put his rudder down and keep off from the Oxford boat.
At Simmond's boat-house the jam is tremendous, and the crowd cheers Harvard as she sweeps by a length ahead; and Oxford going a few feet wild at this point, the Harvard men on the two steamers shout themselves hoarse, and one man with a Magenta-ribbon takes off a new hat, carefully inspects it for a moment, and then in a delirium of frenzy kicks the crown of it in, and presents it skyward as a peace offering.
The people on the Surrey towing-path seem all mad, Oxford is not showing speed enough for them, and the stands and shows and booths are deserted as if they had never been in existence, the crowds pressing forward to the bank of the river wildly. Passing the "Willows," a pleasant little grove of trees, with a quaint stone house nestled in their bosom, a loud cheer is given as the Oxonians spurt a little, while at the same time the water falls, or rather dashes from Loring's oar with increased vehemence, for Harvard is now pulling at the tremendous pace of 45 strokes a minute, a thing unheard of before in an English boat race.
At "Craven Cottage" Oxford gains slightly, but the fact is hardly noticed by the Harvard men, who can see but one thing, and that is the Harvard boat, now ahead by a length and a half. I never imagined that Loring could do the work he is now doing, which is superhuman, and therefore cannot last. At the "Soap Works," a crazy old place, Darbishire seems to be creeping up, and his stroke is most assuredly telling on the Harvard energy and fire. Oxford is now pulling 40, and the cheers are deafening from the shore, while cries and exclamations and yells of encouragement come from the countless wherries, stationary barges, and craft of all kinds that line the Surrey side.
