This remark was suggested by Parson grandly waving his handkerchief and smiling to his admiring friends.
But it is time to quit these friends and make our way to the boats themselves, which now lie waiting for their crews to embark.
This is always a tedious process for onlookers. The shifting of stretchers, the getting-out of oars, the arrangement of rudder strings, and the delicate trimming of the boat, may be interesting enough to the crews themselves, but only feed the impatience of onlookers.
And as usual hitches are bound to occur. Coates has got the oar belonging to Crossfield. And when this mistake has been remedied, Bloomfield in the other boat suddenly discovers that his stretcher is a little weak, and insists on waiting till a new one is brought.
Finally everything is ready, and the two boats slowly swing out into mid-stream. The schoolhouse boat has won the toss, for it takes up the inside berth, amid the triumphant cheers of its partisans.
“Hurrah! you’re inside,” they cry.
“Mind you put them into the bank,” is the derisive echo of the enemy.
“Now, Fairbairn; now, you fellows,” cries Wyndham’s voice.
“Now, boss Riddell—mind your eye. Pull your left when you want to go right,” shout the facetious Welchers.
Riddell had long got past the stage of being flurried by shouts from the bank. He feels nervous undoubtedly, but he does not look it, as he quietly tries his rudder-lines and settles himself on his seat.