To the eager watchers, it seemed as if they would never start out into sight; and they strained their eyes to catch the first glimpse of the red and blue jerseys. In all the history of Flemming regattas, there had never been so exciting a race as this one, for it was agreed on all sides that, in any event, it must be a very close victory. Both crews were in perfect condition, for they had been in training for months, and had taken to the water so soon as the spring thaws had cleared the lake of floating ice, and allowed them to go up for their daily pull over the course. Moreover, the seniors were resolved to wipe out the stain upon their football record, while the juniors were no less determined to maintain the advantage they had gained, and leave untarnished the name and glory of the class of ninety-two.
Some trifling collision between two of the little boats had directed the attention to the upper end of the lake, when an enthusiastic cheer from a tiny blue boat, turned every eye towards the boat house. Slowly the junior crew rounded the side and came into view, followed, at a little distance, by the seniors, and both rowed lazily down to the starting-point. The regular sweep of the oars, and the almost mechanical precision of the motion of the backs, as they rose and fell in perfect unison, were the only hints they gave of their power, as they came down towards their waiting schoolmates, who received them with loyal shouts,—
But the shouts died away, as the crews took their places. The light shells lay motionless upon the water, while the rowers sat with their oars poised in air, their gaze bent on Lieutenant Wilde, as he stood waiting to give the signal. Not a breeze stirred the air, and the lake was only broken by the tiny ripples that just roughened its glassy surface. The very water seemed to feel the hush of waiting, and to be holding itself motionless, like the human life around and upon it.
Then the shouts rang out again, for the signal was given and each shell, answering to the sudden tension of eight pairs of arms, leaped forward on its course. The race had begun.
The shells passed the first half-mile post in excellent style. Ninety-two was leading by a boat-length, and rowing twenty-eight strokes to the minute. The senior stroke was a little slower, and it was plain that both crews were reserving their best efforts until farther on in their course. Keeping pace with them, the carriages drove along up the shore of the lake, while beyond the course, on the outer side, the little fleet of boats shifted their positions and moved on, to keep their favorite crews well in sight. There was little outward show of enthusiasm as yet, for the course was long, and the boys were saving their throats for the final demonstration; but they watched with eager interest the steady rise and fall of the shoulders, the quiet, even play of the muscles which the light jerseys could not conceal, and the smooth stroke as the oars struck the water, cut their way through it, then were feathered in the air, before falling again for the succeeding stroke. In the meantime, occasional scraps of comment could be heard, tossed from boat to boat as the groups continually shifted and changed.