"Shove off!" continued the coxswains.
The bow oarsmen shoved off the head of each barge, and the stroke oarsmen used their boathooks until the boats were clear of the pier. Then the bowmen coiled up the painters, and the after oarsmen took care of the stern lines. When they had done this duty, they elevated their oars without any orders.
"Let fall!" said Matt and Dory, when the boats were clear of the pier. The crews had been so well trained that the twenty-four oars struck the water at the same instant; but the loom, or part near the handle, of the oars was not allowed to fall upon the rail, or into the rowlocks. They are put in proper position after they are dropped.
"Give way—together!" said Matt and Dory, when they had seen that each oarsman was ready for the pull.
All the rowers caught the stroke the first time trying, but it had taken a great deal of practice to enable them to do so. The boys pulled a very even, uniform, and steady stroke. All the oars were raised to the same height above the water, and sunk to the same depth beneath its surface.
The barges were not mere fancy craft, built for speed, and for nothing else. Considering their great size they were very light, but they were strongly built. They were constructed after a beautiful model, yet at the same time they were good sea boats, able and safe. As the students were liable to be caught on the other side of the lake in rough weather, Captain Gildrock considered staunch boats as necessary on Lake Champlain as on the ocean. The short, choppy sea of the fresh-water lakes is more trying to any kind of a craft than the long waves of the Atlantic.
The two barges darted down the lake as though they had been shot from a gun. It was a cool day, with the wind fresh from the northwest, and the crews were in just the right condition to do their best at the oars. Since their recent defeat in the race, the first class had been working hard to improve in rowing, and Matt Randolph had succeeded in imparting his own enthusiasm to his crew. But nothing was said about another race, for the first class meant to be sure before they risked another trial. Dory Dornwood saw what the machinists—as they sometimes called the higher class—were about, and he did not go to sleep.
The boats passed through the narrow outlet into Beaver River, and the Winooski appeared to have lost a length in coming down from Beech Hill Lake. Dory watched the Gildrock, and soon discovered that she was gaining on him. The other crew had been practising by themselves a good deal lately, and it was evident that Matt Randolph had made a decided improvement both in style and power in the work of his crew.
Dory said nothing, and did not attempt to increase the speed of his boat. At the mouth of the river the Gildrock was half a dozen lengths ahead of him, and her crew seemed to be exerting themselves to widen the distance between the two barges. The boys of the leading boat could see the other all the time, while the Winooskis could not, for no rower was allowed to look behind him.