We were nearing Leander’s Rock. Ay! and we were steadily gaining on our tutors.
They, too, saw that, but could do no better. Having a steersman, gave our boat an advantage of rounding the Rock closely.
We gained distance. In five minutes we were thirty or forty feet ahead.
But then, terrible to see, our adversaries made a spurt, and were coming up again, hand over hand.
They gained, gained, gained, until their stern was opposite Harry’s oar-blade. I was almost wild with excitement. I called upon the boys, with every entreaty I could think of, to pull harder; urging on Alfred, who was evidently the weakest oar, and whose strength seemed waning.
But our tutors could not pull harder. They had done their best. Could we but keep our speed.
So we went, without widening or lessening the distance between us, for a hundred yards. But was it possible for us to hold out? How I prayed we might! We neared Clump again. The comic sight cheered me. Truly, if hopping about and entreaties could help us, what aid must that old nigger give us. I almost expected to see him soar off to us, he looked so like a crow taking flight.
“Fellows! keep a morsel of extra strength to use when we pass Clump, then just let us put forth our utmost breath and strength for those forty yards. But don’t let our tutes gain. Look! look!”
But they were coming up—only by inches, to be sure, but coming.
We rushed past Youngster’s Wharf. Clump stretched out his body as if to pull us on.