"A grand race," said every one around. "A grand race"--but old Burke
had something to say when he steamed up to put our cox'n among us.
"Byes, byes," he said, "if there had been twinty yards more the
_Rhondda_ would have won. Now d'ye moind, Takia, ye divil . . . d'ye
moind! Keep th' byes in hand till I give ye th' wurrd! . . . An' whin
ye get th' wurrd, byes! . . . Oh, Saints! Shake her up when ye get
th' wurrd!"
The third heat was closely contested. All three boats, two Liverpool
barques and a Nova Scotiaman, came on steadily together. A clean race,
rowed from start to finish, and the _Tuebrook_ winning by a short
length.
The afternoon was well spent when we stripped for the final, and took
up our positions on the line. How big and muscular the Germans looked!
How well the green boat sat the water! With what inward quakings we
noted the clean fine lines of stem and stern! . . . Of the _Tuebrook_
we had no fear. We knew they could never stand the pace the Germans
would set. Could we?
Old Burke, though in a fever of excitement when we came to the line,
had little to say. "Keep the byes in hand, Takia--till ye get th'
wurrd," was all he muttered.
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