You've got my sculls," he cries, turning to bow;
"pass yours over."
"Well, do you know, I've been wondering how it was I couldn't get on with
these," answers bow, quite brightening up, and most willingly assisting
in the exchange. "NOW we shall be all right."
But they are not - not even then. Stroke has to stretch his arms nearly
out of their sockets to reach his sculls now; while bow's pair, at each
recovery, hit him a violent blow in the chest. So they change back
again, and come to the conclusion that the man has given them the wrong
set altogether; and over their mutual abuse of this man they become quite
friendly and sympathetic.
George said he had often longed to take to punting for a change. Punting
is not as easy as it looks. As in rowing, you soon learn how to get
along and handle the craft, but it takes long practice before you can do
this with dignity and without getting the water all up your sleeve.
One young man I knew had a very sad accident happen to him the first time
he went punting. He had been getting on so well that he had grown quite
cheeky over the business, and was walking up and down the punt, working
his pole with a careless grace that was quite fascinating to watch. Up
he would march to the head of the punt, plant his pole, and then run
along right to the other end, just like an old punter. Oh! it was grand.
And it would all have gone on being grand if he had not unfortunately,
while looking round to enjoy the scenery, taken just one step more than
there was any necessity for, and walked off the punt altogether. The
pole was firmly fixed in the mud, and he was left clinging to it while
the punt drifted away. It was an undignified position for him. A rude
boy on the bank immediately yelled out to a lagging chum to "hurry up and
see real monkey on a stick."
I could not go to his assistance, because, as ill-luck would have it, we
had not taken the proper precaution to bring out a spare pole with us. I
could only sit and look at him. His expression as the pole slowly sank
with him I shall never forget; there was so much thought in it.
I watched him gently let down into the water, and saw him scramble out,
sad and wet. I could not help laughing, he looked such a ridiculous
figure. I continued to chuckle to myself about it for some time, and
then it was suddenly forced in upon me that really I had got very little
to laugh at when I came to think of it. Here was I, alone in a punt,
without a pole, drifting helplessly down mid-stream - possibly towards a
weir.
I began to feel very indignant with my friend for having stepped
overboard and gone off in that way. He might, at all events, have left
me the pole.
I drifted on for about a quarter of a mile, and then I came in sight of a
fishing-punt moored in mid-stream, in which sat two old fishermen. They
saw me bearing down upon them, and they called out to me to keep out of
their way.
"I can't," I shouted back.
"But you don't try," they answered.
I explained the matter to them when I got nearer, and they caught me and
lent me a pole. The weir was just fifty yards below. I am glad they
happened to be there.
The first time I went punting was in company with three other fellows;
they were going to show me how to do it. We could not all start
together, so I said I would go down first and get out the punt, and then
I could potter about and practice a bit until they came.
I could not get a punt out that afternoon, they were all engaged; so I
had nothing else to do but to sit down on the bank, watching the river,
and waiting for my friends.
I had not been sitting there long before my attention became attracted to
a man in a punt who, I noticed with some surprise, wore a jacket and cap
exactly like mine. He was evidently a novice at punting, and his
performance was most interesting. You never knew what was going to
happen when he put the pole in; he evidently did not know himself.
Sometimes he shot up stream and sometimes he shot down stream, and at
other times he simply spun round and came up the other side of the pole.
And with every result he seemed equally surprised and annoyed.
The people about the river began to get quite absorbed in him after a
while, and to make bets with one another as to what would be the outcome
of his next push.
In the course of time my friends arrived on the opposite bank, and they
stopped and watched him too. His back was towards them, and they only
saw his jacket and cap. From this they immediately jumped to the
conclusion that it was I, their beloved companion, who was making an
exhibition of himself, and their delight knew no bounds. They commenced
to chaff him unmercifully.
I did not grasp their mistake at first, and I thought, "How rude of them
to go on like that, with a perfect stranger, too!" But before I could
call out and reprove them, the explanation of the matter occurred to me,
and I withdrew behind a tree.
Oh, how they enjoyed themselves, ridiculing that young man! For five
good minutes they stood there, shouting ribaldry at him, deriding him,
mocking him, jeering at him.
