“Wall, I dare to say,” affirmed that warm partisan, Aunt Lydia. “You ought ter be ashamed of yourself!”
On sped the boats; stoutly pulled the oarsmen; the spectators huzzahed; while the maples, in silence, showed their warm admiration. The Scarlet Grays took the lead at the opening of the race, a fact that created much excitement among the Campton carriages, and, all a–flutter with fragrant white handkerchiefs was the coach filled with ladies. The “S. G’s” though, could not maintain their position. They frantically struggled, and one boy in his violent contortions even lost his scarlet cap overboard, and pulled bare–headed the rest of the way. When the stake–boat was reached, and the contending craft rounded this limit of their course, it was seen that Chauncy’s crew was in the front place. This excited The Harbor people to furious applause, as soon as this fact was appreciated by them.
“It looks now,” said Aunt Lydia, “as if our boys would win, and we’ll have a Libr’y down here. Walter said, the boys all agreed, if they got the money to give it toward a Public Libr’y.”
“Hoo–ray for our boys!” screamed Miss P. Greene, who had transferred her admiration from the Scarlet Grays to the proper crew, and wished to show her appreciation of all “educational movements” as she termed them. “Hoo—”
She was about to give another cheer, but a tall butter firkin on which she had been standing because it put her sharp nose and sharp eyes just above the shoulders of other people, here refused to serve as a lookout any longer. It was something altogether apart from the usual vocation of butter tubs; and naturally asserting the right of revolution, or in this case, of devolution, the tub canted over, and began to roll; and down somewhere went Miss Green! But while she went down, her voice went up, the tongue asserting its accustomed supremacy in this trying moment, even, and the cheer for Chauncy’s crew ended in a scream. It made a little stir among the spectators, but Jabez Wherren was promptly on hand, and gallantly fished the post–mistress up. He set the rebellious butter firkin in its proper subordinate place, and then set Miss Green on top of it, where like a queen on her throne she received the commiseration and congratulations of her friends, who shuddered at her fall, and rejoiced over her rise once more. I am afraid this fall was ominous though, and my readers will soon see for themselves. As the crews pulled away in the river, Jabez Wherren, with a lack of patriotism, declared that those “little Seaweed fellers are givin’ it to our boat. Jest about up with ’em and crowdin’ ’em hard!”
“There, Jabez!” said his spouse, who like the butter firkin could only stand a certain amount of strain, “ef you can’t talk any more sensible, you’d better go hum.”
“No—no,” quietly remarked the grinning Jabez, “I’m goin’—to see the upshot of this.”
Unlucky prophet! What did he want to use that word “upshot” for? He had no sooner spoken it, than there was an unhappy commotion noticed in Chauncy’s boat. The crew had been complaining of the new stroke which Chauncy had introduced, but he had insisted upon its use, saying it was very “scientific”; that “just now it was the top thing in the market, and would fetch a premium any day.” When it was noticed in the race that the Seaweed Townies were gaining on them, Chauncy, who acted as captain of The Harbor crew, energetically stimulated them by such remarks as: “Muscle pays—now, boys!” “Don’t let them have a cheap bargain. Hum—now!” “Crowd the market! Give it to ’em!”
Finally he called out: “The stroke, boys! Give them our stroke good! Science, boys!” Every boy now watched his oar intently, and pulled with all the “science” he could muster. Chauncy aimed to set the example, and as he strove to handle his oar with precision, he gave it an unlucky violent jostle in the thole–pins. One of these like the butter firkin on shore, could not patiently submit to everything, and—broke! There is such a thing in an oarsman’s experience as “catching a crab.” The oarsman concludes for some reason, generally an irresistible one, to go over backwards, and there catch his crab. As he tumbles into the bottom of the boat, his feet naturally go up and his arms also, while his head and shoulders go down; and his whole figure may possibly suggest a crab, with its crooked, wriggling members. Chauncy now ignominiously “caught a crab.” The great Solomon went down in disgrace and disaster! The effect on The Harbor spectators was as if the sun had gone into mourning, while the maples all shivered in sympathy. Chauncy quickly was up again, a new thole–pin was inserted, and the crew gallantly pulled away. But there were the Seaweed Townies, ahead now by two boat lengths! This advanced position, with grins and giggles, those “dark–eyed monkeys,” as Aunt Lydia promptly labeled them, stubbornly maintained. Chauncy with frenzied efforts tried to “work up the market,” but the “Arabs” were victors. Lean and wiry as ever, they triumphantly pulled their boat ashore.