Chapter Thirteen.
The Picnic at Camp Hill Bottom.
Jorrocks, the school boatman, was a careful person, and suited his accommodation to his company. He knew something about the expeditions of “learned societies” to Camp Hill Bottom and elsewhere, and the conclusion he had evidently come to, was that the boats best suited for their purpose were craft broad in the beam and deep in draught, in which it would be possible to argue out any subject without danger to life or limb.
By a coincidence which afforded more pleasure to my fellow-voyagers than to me, one of the two boats reserved for the use of the Conversation Club was named the Sarah, the other rejoicing in the inappropriate name of Firefly. I was, of course, voted to a place of honour in the former, along with Langrish, Trimble, and seven other Philosophers of the same kidney; while Coxhead, Warminster, and Purkis took official charge of the Firefly, with an equal number of passengers.
It was noticeable, by the way, that at starting it was impossible for any two boys to sit close together, by reason of the stoutness of their pockets, which stood out on either side like rope buoys on the side of a penny steamer. Indeed, some of the party seemed to me to be exceeding the limits laid down by the committee; as, not only were they prominent on either side, but unusually stout in front, which led one to suspect that they had converted their entire waistcoats into pockets for the time being, and stowed them with provisions. But as the chief delinquents in this respect were the members of the executive committee, it was hardly for us to take official notice of it.
A hitch occurred at starting, owing to the uneven distribution of the “paupers” in the two boats. The Sarah boasted of six of these, whereas the Firefly only possessed one, who, when called upon to fulfil his part of the bargain and row the whole company up stream single-handed, showed an inclination to “rat.” The crew of the Firefly also began to be concerned as to the length of the voyage under such conditions, and clamoured for at least two of our “paupers”; a claim which Trimble and Langrish indignantly repudiated. At length, however, after a little judicious splashing and a threat to go off on a picnic of their own, the point was yielded, and two of our “paupers” were ignominiously ejected to make room for an equal number of passengers.
This being done, the question arose as to whether we should row up stream or tow. It was decided to proceed by the latter method, at least until the towing-path became impracticable. Whereupon both bands of “paupers” were turned ashore and harnessed to the end of their respective rope, and the rest of us settled down to enjoy our well-earned leisure, and stimulate the exertions of our tugs with friendly exhortations.
I regret to say that the philosophy of our galley-slaves failed to sustain them in their arduous efforts. They began well. The Sarah led the way, the Firefly following close in our wake. As long as the friendly emulation between the two teams endured, we made fair progress. But when it was discovered that the Firefly had meanly hitched itself on to the stern of the Sarah, and was permitting our four “paupers” to pull the whole cavalcade, a difference of opinion arose. The Firefly tugs, having nothing to do, amused themselves by peppering the inoffensive crew of the Sarah with pebbles from the bank; while the outraged pullers of the Sarah, finding themselves tricked, struck work altogether, and alter pulling our head round into a bed of tall bulrushes, cast off the yoke and went for their fellow-“paupers.” To add to the general confusion, a real barge, towed by a real horse, came down to meet us, threatening with its rope to decapitate the whole of our party, and, whether we liked it or not, to drag us back to Low Heath.