"Then why don't you keep your eye on the middle of my back?"
"So I do."
"Then why don't you move when I move?"
"'Ow can I? 'Ow am I to know when you're goin' to move? Sometimes you never move at all."
"You're a pretty sort to come out rowin' with, you don't know no more about a boat than a baby. 'Ere, put me ashore! I've 'ad enough of bein' mucked about by the likes o' you. I should enjoy myself more if I was lookin' on from the land."
The last speaker was, I believe, the most sensible man on the river that afternoon.
On a sudden I found myself in the middle of a race. I was lazying past the Island. I had long since given up all thoughts of Molesey, and was taking my ease, anticipating what might happen, when three boats which I had just passed all at once went mad. There was a single and a double skiff, and a four-oared tub. With one accord they started racing. I was only a yard or two in front, and though I might have pulled clear, on the other hand I might not; and, anyhow, it was their business not to run me down, a fact which they did not seem to be aware of. On they came, shouting and splashing, the steering, in particular, being something frightful to behold. In a minute we were all four in a heap. They yelled at me, passengers and crews, with an unanimity which was amazing.
"Why don't yer get out of the way?"
"Pardon me, ladies and gentlemen, but, really, how could I?"
"If yer don't know 'ow to row what d'yer want to get into a boat for?"