“’Ighness,” he said, “if you want to learn to paddle you’ll have to start right. Put your left hand further down and—— Hold on! Don’t lean over like that or we’ll have to walk home! Put your hand just above the end of the blade. That’s it. Now, instead of reaching out close to the bow, start your stroke farther off and sort of pull it in. If you don’t you’re pushing the bow to the right every stroke, don’t you see? Personally, I don’t mind, but the next chap might not like to have to keep straightening out every time. That’s better, but your stroke’s too long, ’Ighness. Shorten it up. Shorter still. That’s more like it. Don’t try to push when the blade’s behind you, because it doesn’t do any good. It rather slows the canoe up, in fact. Forces the stern down and makes it drag more water. Get your drive at the beginning of the stroke, then let up as the paddle passes you and finish the stroke quickly. Try it.”
Hugh tried it, at first with amusing results, and Nick had to dig hard at times to keep the craft in its course. But after a while the bow paddler became more adept. Then Nick tried to teach him to turn his blade as it left the water, but that trick was for the present beyond the novice. Once Hugh lost his paddle entirely and they had to float downstream after it. They went some two miles in the direction of Needham Falls, by which time the neighboring town was in sight across the fields, and then pulled the nose of the canoe up on the bank and rested. The afternoon was still and the October sunlight warm, and Hugh, for one, was ready for the respite. They laid themselves full length on a bed of yellowing marsh grass, pillowing their heads in their clasped hands, and pulled their caps over their eyes.
“Paddling a canoe’s harder work than I fancied,” mused Hugh, conscious of lame muscles.
“You’ll soon get onto it. The next time you’d better try the stern.”
“I suppose that’s more difficult.”
“A little. You’ve got to steer, too, you see. But it isn’t hard once you’ve got the hang of it. Funny you’ve never done any canoeing.”
“Yes, I dare say. I’ve punted a bit, and I’ve rowed some, but you don’t find many canoes on the other side except on the Thames. And mother was always rather shy about letting me go on the water.”
“It must be dandy on that Thames of yours,” said Nick. “I’ve read about the races, you know, and all that; houseboats lined up along the shore and Johnnies in flannels paddling about and colored lanterns and so on. Must be great!”