Maria proved to be stroke-oar, and she called, “Catherina, Christina, Dorothea, Nicholina, Concordia, here, come along.”
And off they all ran, chattering and giggling at an amazing rate; and they tumbled into the boat in a manner that made the captain fairly frown to see such lack of discipline. We were all much amused to see the gay and lively manner in which they skipped over the thwarts to their respective places, brimful of fun and mischief, and altogether making quite a shocking exhibition for a boat’s crew, whose duties we are usually in the habit of seeing performed in a very sober manner. But they quieted down a little when a more sedate individual (who proved to be the coxswain)—dressed in short boots and long seal-skin pantaloons, and a cap instead of ribbons on the head—came along, and, taking the steering-oar, gave the order to “shove off.”
The order was executed in handsome style, and the boat shot out over the little harbor very swiftly, each of the crew rising with the stroke of the oar; and bending to their work with a will, this singular-looking crew made their boat fairly hum again.
“Fine oarsmen!” exclaimed somebody who had just come up, and had not heard the roster called.
“Oarsmen!” replied the pastor, laughing at somebody’s exceeding innocence. “Oarsmen! why, dear me, they are oarswomen!”
“Oars what?”
“Oarswomen, to be sure.”
“Oarswomen! Man alive! and do they always pull the boat?”
“Always,” replied the pastor; “always. A man will never pull an oar in a woman’s boat. He would think it a humiliation and disgrace. The most he will do is to take the steering-oar, which is, indeed, quite legitimate business for him. He has his own small boat, the handling of which requires skill, while the woman’s boat requires none. A man steers the boat now; the other six, who pull the oars, are all of the other sex, and I could not wish for a better crew.”
Upon being asked what duties as a crew they usually performed, he answered: