The lads of Waterside were carefully taking their places in their shell which was held steady for them by several of their comrades. As the Riverview crew entered theirs, a like service was performed by some of their lads.
There were a few moments of nervous preparation, a settling in their seats on the part of the rowers, a testing of the oarlocks.
"Take your places," ordered the starter, and slowly the two shells were rowed out from the float to the middle of the stream. At this point there was scarcely any current, so there was little difficulty in holding the frail craft in line until the starting shot was fired.
Once more came a moment of nervous tension. Each captain looked at his crew, then glanced over toward the motor boat containing the officials.
"Are you ready?" asked the starter.
"Ready!" answered Captain Roth.
"Ready!" called Captain Racer.
A puff of smoke and a sliver of flame shot out of the revolver barrel, followed by the sharp report.
Crack! It was like the snap of a whip.
Eight oars took the water as one, the broad blades slipping in with scarcely a ripple. Eight sturdy backs bent to the stroke, and the thin knife-like shells cleaved the water. The race was under way.