The Greatest Murder Mysteries - G.A. Henty Edition. G. A. Henty
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entered for them. He had taken to rowing too late ever to become a finished oar; but he was considered a very useful man in the middle of the boat. What excitement we all felt about it; and I believe the ladies of the club—if I may call them so—were at least as much interested as the men. We discussed the chances of the boats quite scientifically, and laid bets of kid-gloves with each other upon the result. The first great excitement was the evening when Harry came back from the club on the night of choosing the crews, with the lists. How eagerly we looked over them, and how glad we would be to see that he had Griffin for stroke, and Thompson for seven, a host in themselves; but as our eye ran down it, our faces would fall greatly, when we saw that he had also Big Hamper, who it was notorious never pulled his weight along, and Long Black, who in himself was enough to——well I must not use Harry's word, though it was very expressive—but enough to spoil any crew he got among.
During the fortnight they were practising for the race, pretty Miss Planter would generally call in for us every evening, as we lived nearer to the water than she did; and we would walk through the cricket-field to the towing-path, and watch the different boats coming down over the course. In time we became quite judges of rowing, and could tell pretty nearly which would be most likely to win, by the regularity of the stroke and the steadiness of the swing with which they did the last half-mile down to the bridge; for, as Harry said, any crew could swing when they were fresh, but the boat which kept its form after going over the course might be pretty well relied upon to win the race. Miss Planter was a better judge than we were, for her brother was the life and soul, the guiding spirit of the club.
Rupert Planter was a tall, wiry man, rather loosely put together, with a rolling, uncouth walk. On shore, no one would have singled him out as a man of unusual strength, or as a practised gymnast; but put him into a boat, and his muscles seemed to stiffen into steel, and, as he tore his oar through the water, you saw before you the most finished, as well as, perhaps, the most plucky, oarsman in the world. Rupert Planter's life was passed, when not at business or asleep, in a boat. His every thought and energy were devoted to the promotion of the aquatic art in general, and of the "Metropolitan Rowing Club" in particular. His whole time was at its disposal, and no trouble was grudged by him in the endeavour to maintain it in its proud position of the first rowing club in England.
He was rather a despot in his way, and a little fond of carrying things with a high hand, and anything like shirking was greeted with a force of denunciation which sometimes rather astonished new members; but no one minded what he said, for they knew that he only spoke as he did for the good of the club. It was wonderful the influence he had over them, and how much better a boat went when he was steering her; and if he were on the bank, and an eight came along pulling heavily against the tide, the moment his voice was heard, with his sharp "Now lift her up, boys!" the way in which the tired crew straightened up and lay out to their work was almost magical.
On the day of the race we went in the steamer which the club hired to accompany it, and great was our interest and excitement. I don't know anything prettier than to see four eights dash off together at the word "Go!" their oars all dipping together, amidst the burst of shouts and encouragement from their friends in the accompanying steamer, and the breathless excitement, lest—as they close nearer to each other, in their efforts to draw over to the Middlesex shore—there should be a foul; then the thrill of pleasure and triumph with which you see the boat you wish to win, slowly, inch by inch, draw itself out from among the others. Even should the boat which first leads not be your favourite, still you do not give up hope, but continue to wave your handkerchief, and to watch each fresh effort, until, perhaps, towards Hammersmith, your boat, stroke by stroke, slowly gains on the leader till it is nearly abreast, and then with a desperate spurt, amidst the wild cheering from the steamer, it snatches the victory in the last quarter of a mile. Oh, it is a glorious exercise! and if ever I wished myself a man, it was, certainly, that I might be able to row in a boat-race.
Polly would get even more excited than I did, and I remember that on one or two occasions of particularly hard races, she came home with her handkerchief and gloves literally torn into shreds, quite unconsciously to herself, in the excitement she felt in watching the varying chances of the boat Harry pulled in.
On occasions of general interest, such as the University contests, or races for the championship, we used to go up to the club-room, and out into the long balcony looking over the river; and it was very interesting to see the river crowded with steamers, and the excited crowd on the towing-path, and to hear the burst of cheering which broke out when they started. But it was only the start we saw, and not even always that—for the steamers often got in our way—so that, on the whole, I enjoyed the club races far more than these great contests.
On quiet afternoons, when the tide was favourable, and there was no racing on, Harry would come down early, and, perhaps, bring a friend round with him, and take a club skiff, and row us up to Richmond. Very pleasant it was, lying back in the boat, with its gentle gliding motion through the still water, and listening to the regular plash of the oars; and then, when we reached Richmond, to get out, and stroll up into the park, and look out on the wonderfully beautiful view over the rich wooded country towards Windsor, with the winding river, and the pretty mansions, and country seats on its banks. Then, when the tide turned, we would start again, floating down lazily with the current, and not getting back to the boat-house until it was growing quite dark, and the mists were beginning to curl up from the still river.
We had now been two years at Putney, and in this time Polly had many admirers; indeed, I don't think any one could help loving her; and she could, had she given them the slightest encouragement, have married almost any one of Harry's friends. But her heart was evidently quite untouched at present, and she did not seem to be at all anxious to change her name. Among Harry's friends it was generally understood that I was engaged. I wished it to be so, as it made my position more pleasant, by putting me quite at my ease with them, and by preventing the possibility of any unfortunate mistake being made; besides, I was the better able to chaperone Polly.
In the winter season, as I have said, we were much quieter than in summer, for then the rowing men almost all went away to London till the spring; but twice a week at any rate we went in of an evening to the Planters', or one of the other resident families, or they came in to us. Saturday was the club-day, and then Harry went out on the water when the weather was fine, and in the evening to the club-room, where he boxed, fenced, and played whist till twelve o'clock.
It was not till we had been there two years that we came to know one of Harry's friends, he had never brought home before; and yet we had heard more of him than of almost any man in the club. This was Charley Horton, a merchant, with a very good business in the City—not that any one would have taken him for a merchant, or, indeed, for anything connected with business in any way. He was a man of about thirty, of middle height, but very strongly built, with a large pair of whiskers, a ruddy complexion, a clear, honest eye, a big voice, and a hearty laugh. Harry had often spoken of him as one of the most popular men in the club, but when we had asked him why he did not bring him in, Harry had said—
"Oh, Charley can't stand women; it is not that he dislikes them absolutely, but he says he does not understand them, and can never think of anything to say to them; a man who once met him at a party reports that he stood at the door all the evening, and looked as afraid of speaking to a woman as if he had never seen one before in his life."
One day, however, when Harry came down early with the intention of taking us up the river, Charley happened to come down in the same carriage with him, and Harry told him what he was going to do, and asked him to take an oar. After great difficulty, and only under the promise that he should pull bow, so as to be as far out of the way of conversation as possible, Charley consented to come. Harry came home to fetch us, while his friend went round to the club-room to dress, and met us at the boat-house. When he saw us coming I do believe that if he could by any possibility have got away he would have done so; but there was no escape. Harry introduced him to us, he murmured something vague, and then went off to help to get the boat down.
I do not think that I ever remember Polly in such a wild humour as she was on that afternoon. She kept up a string of questions and talk the whole time we were on the water, I believe on purpose to put Mr. Horton out, and as we were going up with the tide there was no occasion to pull hard, and