For the oars in a boat that is fully manned are so
close together, that, unless they keep time exactly with each other,
the blades would cross and hit one another in utter confusion. But
if they keep the stroke, as they call it, exactly together, all goes
right. For this reason the oarsman who sits aft, by whose oar the
movements of all the other oars are to be regulated, is called the
stroke-oarsman.
The boys, however, knew nothing of all this. Marco contented himself
with giving one general direction to them, to keep the stroke with
the stroke-oarsman, and to begin when he gave the order, "_Give
way_." Accordingly, after all were silent again, the oars being
extended over the water, and Forester standing on the bank watching
the operation, Marco called out in the tone of command, "_Give
way!_"
The boys immediately began to row, all looking at the stroke-oarsman,
but failing entirely to keep time with him. The oars thumped against
each other, crossed each other, and made all manner of confusion.
Some could not get into the water, and others could not get out; and
Joseph's oar, which somehow or other came out too suddenly, while he
was pulling hard upon it, caused him to pitch backward off his seat
and tumble over into the bottom of the boat.
[Illustration: BAD ROWING.]
"_Oars!_" said Marco, "OARS!"
What Marco meant by _oars_ they did not know, so they paid no
attention to the command, but some stopped rowing in despair, while
others kept on, banging the blades of the oars against one another,
and plashing the water, but produced no effect whatever in respect to
propelling the boat. In the mean time the air was filled with shouts
of laughter and loud vociferations.
"_Oars!_" exclaimed Marco again, with the voice of a colonel at
the head of his regiment. "_Oars!_ Why don't you stop when I say
_Oars_?"
The boys began to stop, shouting to one another, "Stop!" "Stop!" In a
few minutes all was still again. The boys began to take their oars in
and one of them rose and said,
"Poh! this is all nonsense. You can't do any thing with oars. I'd
rather have one good paddle than all the oars in New York."
In fact, Marco himself began to despair. He uttered some impatient
exclamations, and tried to paddle the boat toward the shore. But he
found he was almost as awkward in managing a paddle, as the other boys
were in working oars. He succeeded, however, at last, in getting the
boat to the shore, and then he told the boys that they might as well
get out, for they could not do any thing at all about rowing.
