During this brief dialogue the two boats had come on towards the corner. As far as Gilks and Silk could see at present Parrett’s led by about half a length, which advantage, however, it stood to lose owing to its outside position at the corner. Parson, however, knew what he was about even better than Riddell, who had kept a magnificent course down the reach, but who now seemed afraid to take full advantage of the sharp corner. The Parrett’s coxswain, on the other hand, with his half-length to the good, began turning his boat’s head early, even at the risk of running dangerously close on his rival’s water, and so saved as much as possible of the lost ground.
It was an anxious moment, for as the boats came round that corner so the race usually depended. The crowd on the banks well knew the crisis, and shouted out their warnings and encouragements to the rival coxswains with redoubled eagerness.
“Now then, Riddell! round you go! Pull your right!”
“Steered indeed, Parrett’s! Bravo, Parson!”
The corner was half-turned, the boats lay nearly level, each coxswain pulling hard with his right line, when suddenly there was a shock in the Parrett’s boat, followed by a loud shout from Parson, and next moment the boat was shooting helplessly straight towards the bank, from which it was only saved by a prompt order to “Backwater all!” from Bloomfield.
What could it be? The shouts on the bank died away into sudden stillness, and fellows forgot even to keep up with the schoolhouse boat, which, followed by the steam-launch, rowed steadily on towards the winning-post.
What was it? The answer soon became known, when Parson, standing in his boat, waved the broken end of a rudder-line above his head. At the critical point of the race this had failed, and in consequence all the efforts of the rowers were useless, and—and the schoolhouse boat was Head of the River!
The rage, excitement, and disappointment at such an unlooked-for termination to the great struggle was beyond description, as the reader may imagine. A general rush was made for the unlucky boat, and shouts and recriminations and taunts and condolences bore witness to the mixed feelings of the spectators.
Some demanded a fresh race there and then, some suggested foul play, others urged the boat to row on and make the best race they could of it, others boldly claimed the victory for Parrett’s, since they led at the moment of the accident.
Amidst all this tumult the unlucky boat slowly backed into mid-stream, and turned towards home, Parson steering no longer by rudder but by word of mouth. As it did so, a distant report announced that the schoolhouse boat had reached the winning-post; whereat the Parrett partisans set up a loud defiant shout, which they maintained during the entire homeward progress of their ill-starred boat.