"Now, hold it, or I'll bat you with the boat hook!" threatened Dan. "Hip! hip! hip! hip! Gaining on the 'Idaho.' We've passed her. Quarter of a boat length to the good. We've got to make it more, or she'll spurt us out at the finish. Hold her there. Here she comes. She's abreast. She's spurting. Hit her up to fifty. Hit it, if it kills you! You've got to win this race, if every man in the boat drops dead."
Dan was dancing about on the slender support of the stern seat, yelling like a madman, though there was not the slightest trace of excitement to be seen in his face. Those on the flagship could hear him shout and see his body moving back and forth to set the pace for the stroke oar. It was a sight that not a man who saw it ever forgot. Discipline on board the ships near by was almost forgotten. The men were shouting and yelling in their excitement.
The "Idaho" and the "Long Island" were bow and bow. Scarcely two boat lengths separated them abeam. Dan knew they were there, but he did not look. His eyes were on his men. A slip, a mistake now, and all would be lost.
"Fifty-five for the last time. Every ounce of muscle on the oars, lads. Go it. Kill 'em! Eat 'em alive! Whoop it up! Hip! hip! hip! hip!"
The words came out with explosive force, almost with the rapidity of a Gatling gun's fire.
"Boom!" roared the flagship's six-pounder.
Two boats shot over the line with every siren in the fleet wailing its greeting to the winning crew.
The men in the "Long Island's" gig did not know they had finished.
"Cease rowing!" commanded Dan in a weak voice. His strength was well-nigh spent. The gig's crew swayed in their seats as they feathered their oars, with difficulty holding their weary bodies from going overboard. They were almost wholly spent.
"Long Island" wins by half a boat length," announced an officer from the deck of the flagship.