To port, No. 7—the Pembroke crowd—was forging ahead. The crew were rowing a quicker stroke, but would they last? On the extreme left, No. 14, the Whitby boat, had already established a useful lead. Although losing the advantage of the ebb-tide she was in smoother water close to the bank, but at the first bend that advantage would be lost.
Yet, Peter knew, there was little to be judged by position at this stage. It was the stayer, not the spurter, who seemed most likely to lead the procession over the finishing line.
He looked at his crew. They were bearing up bravely. Talbot looked a little flustered, but was still rowing strongly. None of them had reached the gasping stage yet, although rivulets of perspiration trickled unhindered down their faces.
At the first bend the competitors met the full force of the wind ’gainst tide. The lean bows of the boat threw apart showers of spray, as the knife-like stem cleft the curling waves.
It was here that the Nottingham lads found themselves handicapped. Used to pulling in a river, they had never had the opportunity of rowing in a fairly high seaway. Their style, admirable in smooth water, was at a decided disadvantage in this “popple.” More than once “bow” missed his stroke, his blade encountering nothing more resistant than air as the boat rose on the crest of a short, steep wave.
“We’re overhauling her all right,” thought Peter.
Five lengths ahead the Portsmouth Sea Scouts were leading. Pulling splendidly, they were steadily increasing their lead, when misfortune descended upon them. “Stroke’s” oar broke just above the blade. The lad, falling backwards, temporarily put No. 3 out of action. By the time the latter had recovered and resumed his oar, the boat had dropped to the seventh place. Nevertheless under extremely adverse conditions the lads continued their gallant struggle, the oarless “stroke” sitting up and moving with the rest to preserve the rhythm of the swing.
The mark buoy at last!
“Back, port! Pull, starboard!” ordered Peter. Round swung the gig, rolling as she swung broadside to the weather-going tide.
“Together!”