Captain of the Crew
- -
- 100%
- +
“He looked that way,” answered Dick, “but don’t deceive yourself into thinking that he felt so. Not a bit of it; he was grumpy clean through; you could tell that by his grin; he always grins when he’s grumpy; makes you think of the – thingumbob – what is it that cries when it eats people?”
“Mouse?” asked Trevor innocently.
“Get out! Crocodile, I mean. That’s Kirk’s way. No, he wasn’t happy to-day, and I don’t blame him, for, oh, Trevor, my child, Jones fills Taylor’s place about as well as a wax doll would. And Rankin means well, but hasn’t got it in him, and Arnold’s just a makeshift, after all; I thought he was going to prove a good man; and Milton doesn’t seem to understand what he’s doing half the time.”
“And Nesbitt rows as though he was chopping wood,” laughed Trevor, with a questioning accent.
“Nesbitt will do, I guess, after he’s been at it a little longer,” answered Dick. “Hang it all! I rowed like a kid to-day myself! I don’t know what’s got into me. I wish – by Jove! I honestly do wish that Taylor or anybody else was captain, Trevor!”
“Rot! What kind of a captain would Taylor make, for goodness’ sake? Cheer up, my hearty; you’ll feel better after supper.”
“Sha’n’t,” muttered Dick.
“Oh, yes, you will. What you need is some nice cold roast beef, milk toast, egg muffins, peach marmalade, and a cup of cocoa; with plenty of mustard.”
“In the cocoa?” grinned Dick.
“Idiot! No, on the beef. That’s right, smile; keep it up; now you’re feeling better. And something tells me, Dick, that it’s pretty near time to wash our nice little hands and faces. Say, let’s cut lessons to-night and go over to the village and see Carl and Stewart, eh?”
And so it was agreed.
Spring vacation came, and for a week partially depopulated the academy, interfering sadly with crew work. Trevor joined his father in New York, and Stewart Earle went home; but Dick and Carl stuck to their posts, Dick on the river and Carl on the baseball diamond, where he was turning out a nine that was destined to be proudly remembered at Hillton for many years. Dick found himself in full authority during the vacation week, for Malcolm Kirk had not as yet taken up his residence in the village, and with no recitations to attend he was able to give almost his entire time to rowing affairs. Half of the first squad were away, but he filled the empty places from the second, put Crocker temporarily at stroke, and coached the impromptu crew from a small boat in which he rowed frantically about in efforts to secure satisfactory points of observation. One rather bleak afternoon he was in his tub just off the landing as the shell, returning from down the river, swept abreast of him. He stood up on the thwarts, balancing himself with an oar, in order to better view the work.
“Seven, you’re rowing light,” he called. “You begin to lower your hands too early; your blade is half out of water at the finish. Five, you put your blade too deep.” The shell was passing now, and he raised his voice and unconsciously leaned forward. “Grip the water with the blade – ”
There was a splash and a cry from the handful of loiterers on the float; the tub rocked merrily; Dick’s cap floated off down-stream, and Dick had disappeared from sight.
“Hold hard all!” yelled the cox. Then, “Back all!” But ere the shell had lost way enough to allow of its being paddled to the rescue, Dick had reappeared a few yards down-stream, had made hand over hand for his boat, and was clinging to the side, wiping the water from his face.
“At an angle!” he shouted, continuing his instructions as though no interruption had occurred, “and then you won’t be likely to ‘slice.’ Take ’em along, Keene; and, Stroke, lengthen out a bit!”
Amid the laughter of the onlookers the shell swept on again up the river, and Dick crawled over the bow of his tub and put back to the boat-house for a change of clothing.
But despite his most heroic efforts, neither the first nor second squad worked well; there appeared to be lack of spirit; a sort of “What’s the good of anything? Nothing!” feeling seemed to prevail among the candidates, and the discouragement that had been growing on Dick ever since Taylor’s resignation now took possession of him wholly. If Trevor had been there, he told himself, it wouldn’t have been so bad; he would have had some one to whom to confide his troubles; some one that would have listened patiently to his groans and growls, and who, by his unfailing cheerfulness and good nature, would have won him from his “blues.” He missed Trevor a good deal; in the evenings especially the study seemed lonesome, and with none to talk to, Dick could gain no entertainment from books, but gathered his lists and memoranda of crew men before him and pondered and studied over them until bedtime came and he crawled between the covers fagged and low-spirited.
In the St. Eustace Academy paper he read glowing accounts of the Blue’s eight that worried him yet more. Fifty-odd candidates had reported there for work shortly after the beginning of the new year; a spirit of enthusiasm reigned over the entire student body; the coach who had piloted the eight to a victory over Hillton the preceding spring had again taken hold, and the most encouraging prospect stretched before the rival school. With a groan he contrasted those conditions with the conditions which prevailed at Hillton; almost total indifference on the part of the school at large; a woful deficiency in candidates, both as to numbers and quality; a financial state which, while robust enough to supply the absolute necessities of the crews, was too slight to afford any of the extra expenditures that might in the struggle for success smooth the path toward victory; and, last of all, but not least, intestine strife.
On one occasion, heartily wearied of his own company, Dick slammed the door of Number 16 and plodded over the muddy roads to Carl Gray’s room in the village. Carl’s welcome was enthusiastic enough, but to Dick, with his own troubles everlastingly revolving themselves in his brain, the other lad’s chatter of baseball problems – none of them, Dick thought, weighty enough to cause a moment’s worry – only bored him; and he left early and made his way back to Masters and bed envious of Carl’s good fortune and more down on his luck than before.
Vacation came to an end in the early April days, and Trevor and the rest of the fellows returned to school, brightened and cheered in mind and body. Kirk also arrived, bag and baggage, and took up his quarters in the village, and Dick, with feelings of relief, mentally shoved a portion of his load of troubles onto the broad shoulders of the head coach. Trevor viewed Dick’s appearance with alarm.
“What in the name of all that’s silly have you been doing to yourself?” he demanded. “You look like a brass farthing of an old and rare vintage! Been ill?”
“No,” answered Dick. And then, acting on a sudden impulse, an overpowering desire for a confidant, he told Trevor everything; of Taylor’s desertion and Waters’s; of his fears for crew success; and finally of Taylor’s demands, ending with: “And I’ve decided to do it; I’m going to resign the captaincy and give him what he wants; I’m tired to death of the whole silly business!”
“Oh, don’t talk so sick!” cried Trevor in angry disgust. “You’ll resign nothing! I – I’d see Taylor at the bottom of the river before I’d come to terms with him! Give him the captaincy, indeed! Now, you get that notion out of your head, Dick, or I’ll – I’ll – ”
“It’s all well enough for you to talk that way,” grumbled Dick, letting his discouragement have full sway and gaining not a little comfort thereby, “but I tell you things have come to a pass where something’s got to be done! We haven’t any crew; they’re just a boatful of chumps; they don’t care a fig whether they ever learn to row! And look at the rest of the fellows! They don’t care, either; they’d just as lief see Hillton beaten as not!”
“Rot!” ejaculated Trevor. “Of course they care. I’ll own they’re blooming chilly about it, but it’s because they don’t know what’s going on. And, look here, Dick, you’ve got no earthly right to resign from the captaincy for such a reason as that; if the fellows had wanted Roy Taylor for captain they’d have elected him. But they didn’t; they wanted you; so they elected you; and, by ginger, you’ve got to carry the thing through!”
“Much the fellows care!”
“And, look here, now, Dick, honestly, what kind of a fool captain would Taylor make?”
“As good as I, I dare say. He knows how to row – ”
“That’s nothing; that doesn’t always fit a man to boss a lot of other men; a good captain’s got to know more than just how to row. He’s got to have grit, and patience, and generalship, and he’s got to be a fellow that the other fellows will look up to and believe in and obey; and that’s not Roy Taylor, not by a jugful, my angel child!”
“Well,” began Dick less dolefully.
“Well, don’t you go to doing anything foolish. Cheer up; take a rest; let the crew go hang for a few days.”
“Can’t do that,” answered Dick. “Wish I could.”
“Well, anyhow, Dick, stop thinking about your troubles, like a good fellow. And, if you won’t give up this bally resignation idea, why, promise not to do anything about it for – let me see – for two weeks; will you?”
And Dick grinned a trifle sheepishly and promised.
CHAPTER XVIII
DICK SURRENDERS
“Stroke side, catch the beginning sharper; the boat rolls down on the bow oars. Bow side, keep your hands up! That’s better! Steady now, all; don’t rush forward. Keep your swing long; you’re all rowing too short in the water!.. Every man keep his eyes in the boat. Watch the man in front of you and follow his movements; make a machine of yourself!.. You’re out of time again! Listen for the rattle of the locks. There ought to be but one sound, and I can hear at least five. Use your ears, men!.. Stroke, lengthen out, lengthen out; you’re much too short!”
And Malcolm Kirk, standing in the bow of the little naphtha launch Terrible, took his megaphone from his mouth and motioned to the man in charge. The Terrible swung around in a short swirl of blue water and headed down-stream, waiting for the shell to make its long turn above. Across the sun-kissed wavelets came the sound of the coxswain’s voice:
“Easy all!.. Three and Bow, paddle. Stroke and Six, back water!.. Forward!.. Are you ready?.. Row!” Then down the river came the boat, looking for all the world like an enormous water-bug, its eight long legs treading the bosom of the river in unison, or at least in unison so far as the ordinary observer would have been able to judge, but not at all satisfactory in that respect to the motionless figure on the launch. The eight backs bent together and the boat sped past the Terrible, which instantly puff-puffed impatiently and started in pursuit, taking up a position off Number Two.
“Stroke, you’re still too short,” began the coach all over again. “Keep it low and long!.. Seven, you bend your arms too soon; swing back with them perfectly straight; remember, you can’t make them do your work; hard against the stretcher, now!.. That’s a bit better… Six, you start your slide too soon; I’ve spoken to you of that often enough. Get your whole body-weight well onto the stroke before you drive your slide away… Sit up, Five! Ram that slide back to the limit!.. Four, your body’s falling out of the boat! Keep your outside leg and hand firm!.. Three, drop your hands more so as to get your oar out of the water clean… That’s vastly better!.. Two, you’re too slow with your hands and too quick with your body. Shoot your hands away lively and turn your inside wrist sharply; then follow with the body more slowly… Bow, you’re rolling the boat again! Catch the water more sharply!.. Time! Time! Listen for the rattle of the oars in the locks, men; you’re beastly ragged!.. Stroke, you’re rowing light again! Keep your hands up to the end!”
And so on for another half mile, when the boat was again turned and brought back to the landing, where the second squad were embarking under the direction of its coxswain. “Let her run!” cried Keene, and the first squad lifted their dripping oars from the water and the shell approached the float silently, easily. “Touch her a bit, Stroke.” Dick’s oar went back into the water and he paddled gently until the boat’s head was brought nearer to the landing. “Easy, Stroke. Mind your oars, bow side!” Then the shell floated alongside, was seized by those on the float, and the oars were unlocked. “Stroke!.. Bow!.. Seven!.. Two!.. Six!.. Three!.. Five!.. Four!” called the coxswain, and one by one the crew stepped out. Then the shell was lifted, dripping and shining from the water, and borne into the house. The second squad had meanwhile paddled into the stream, and their troubles had begun. Down the river they went, followed by the inexorable Kirk and the puffing Terrible.
Dick, weary, out of tune with himself for his sorry work, led the first squad off on a short run, down the river-path to the campus, across the golf links, still too soft for good running, and back by Academy Road toward the gymnasium, to baths and rest. And as he trotted along the voice of the coach echoed continuously in his ears: “Stroke, you’re rowing light again!” Anger at his own miserable performance in the boat and an intense loathing for it all seized upon him. Taylor could have the job, and welcome! He felt a downright hate of the fellows behind him because they had witnessed his degradation. What could they think, he asked himself, of a captain who had been cautioned four times for the same fault in a half-hour’s work? How could they – what had been Trevor’s words? Look up? Yes – how could they look up to such a captain? Hang them! What did he care what they thought of him? A pack of selfish, half-hearted idiots, they were! But in the next moment he acknowledged that he did care – a good deal. And with that the squad reached the gymnasium, and Dick pulled himself wearily up the steps. On the way across the yard later he encountered Keene.
“Hope, Kirk asked me to tell you he’d like to have you go over to his room this evening after supper if you can. I was on my way to your room.”
“All right; I’ll go. I say, Keene, what did you think of us to-day?”
One of the coxswain’s virtues was a fondness for plain, direct language unadorned with verbiage.
“Rotten!” he answered earnestly. Dick nodded, made a pathetic effort at a smile, and strode on. Keene watched him thoughtfully until he disappeared into Masters Hall, then he turned and went on his way. “He won’t last until the race,” he muttered. “Rowed like a farmer to-day, and looks now as though tired out.”
Directly after supper Dick walked to the village and found Malcolm Kirk in his room at Hutchins’s boarding-house. He was seated before an open window, his feet on the sill, puffing voluminously at a brier pipe. Upon Dick’s advent he greeted him smilingly and pushed forward an armchair.
“Sit down, Hope. It was very good of you to come over. I might have done the journeying myself and called on you, but I thought we’d have a better chance of a talk here in my diggings. Rather an off-day, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Dick relapsed into silence after this monosyllabic reply, and Kirk occupied himself with his pipe for a moment. Then he faced Dick, with a return to his usual grave aspect.
“Hope, you’re not looking well. I want you to lay off for a week. You’re stale; I could see that by your work to-day, and your face tells as much now. We can’t risk you getting laid up, you know.”
“I feel pretty well,” answered Dick. “But I don’t blame you for thinking I’m stale after the exhibition I made to-day,” he added bitterly. “I don’t know what got into me; I rowed like a – like a chump!”
“Well, don’t let that trouble you,” replied Kirk, soothingly. “It’s bound to happen once in a while; I never saw a crew captain yet that didn’t go off his work for a bit at some stage in the game; in fact, I should be rather afraid of one that didn’t; I should think he was like the Sunday-school books – too good to be true. How’s your appetite?”
“Pretty fair.”
“Sleep well?”
“Not very.”
“Why?”
“Because – Oh, I suppose it’s because of the wretched state things are in.”
“Crew, you mean?”
Dick nodded.
“Well, affairs don’t look bright just at present; I’ll acknowledge that, Hope; in fact, it’s best to own up to the condition and face it squarely. But that doesn’t mean that there’s anything to be gained by worrying about it. No, take my advice; do your best, knock off work for a few days, make up your mind that everything’s going to come out right in the end, and keep whistling. After all – though I wouldn’t say this to any one but you – there’s not a particle of disgrace in being beaten, not a particle. I don’t want you to imagine that I’ve got it into my head that we’re going to be beaten; for I haven’t; I’ve seen plenty of more hopeless-looking cases than this right themselves when the time came. But what I mean is that it’s a poor plan to tell yourself that defeat is disgraceful; if you believe that you’ll find yourself in a condition for suicide some day; for every chap, no matter who, has got to face defeat at some time in his life. And the chap that can take a drubbing and come up smiling is the one that is going to be happiest and going to make the most of his life. The only time when defeat brings disgrace is when you haven’t done your honest best. But I didn’t ask you over here to listen to a lecture. What do you think of my plan? Will you lay off a while? To-day’s Friday; suppose we say until a week from to-morrow?”
“All right,” answered Dick dejectedly. “If you think I’d better; though, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t think there’s any necessity for it.”
“Of course you don’t; never saw a man who did. But we’ll call it a whim of mine, if you like. Well, that’s settled. Don’t come near the river; don’t talk about rowing, and don’t even think of it if you can help it; take a walk every day, or a run, and do just enough work at the weights meanwhile to keep your muscles stretchy. Do you think Crocker will be a good man to put in at stroke while you’re out of it?”
“Yes,” answered Dick. “You know I had him rowing there during vacation; he did first-rate.”
“All right. I think we’d better pick the first and second crews next week and send them to training-table. It’s rather earlier than last year, but then we’re a bit more backward. Now, another thing. That fellow Jones is no earthly use in Taylor’s position; in the first place, he’s not varsity stuff; in the second place he can’t row to any remarkable extent, and there isn’t time to start in and teach him the rudiments of the art at this late day; in short, he’s out of the question. And I don’t know of any fellow that I care to try there. Do you?”
“Not unless it’s Garvier of the second,” answered Dick. “He’s got the weight and he’s hard-working; he pulls a rather good oar, too; only – well, I’m afraid he lacks sand.”
Kirk nodded and blew a volume of smoke toward the window.
“I’d thought of Garvier, but your estimate of him is just about mine; as you say, I don’t think he’s got enough grit for Seven. When you come down to it Seven needs almost as much hard horse-sense, coolness, and judgment as does Stroke. In fact, the style of the crew depends more on him than on Stroke. I believe I’d rather put up with a poor Stroke than a poor Number 7. No, decidedly Garvier won’t do. How about Crocker?”
“He might do, of course, only I think he’s about where he belongs now, don’t you, sir?”
“Yes, I suppose so, although – Well, there seems to be but one thing to do.”
“What’s that?” asked Dick.
“Get Taylor back. Now wait a moment, Hope. I don’t propose to interfere with you, not a particle.”
“I hadn’t any such idea,” protested Dick.
“All right. What I propose to do is to go with you to see this contrary beggar and make one more appeal to him; and if you say now that you’d rather not ask him again – for I can well understand your having feeling in the matter – I’ll drop the project and say nothing more about it; we’ll fight it out without Taylor. On the other hand, if you are willing to try again and don’t object to my – well, sticking my finger into your pie, as it were, we’ll go together and have it out with him. What do you say?”
Dick hesitated, and Kirk, without appearing to do so, eyed him intently. Kirk, believing that a quarrel existed between the two boys, imagined that Dick was having a struggle with his vanity. “And,” Kirk told himself, “I sha’n’t blame him if he refuses.” But Dick didn’t refuse. Knowing upon what terms Taylor would alone consent to return to training, he mentally threw back his shoulders and replied:
“I think there may be a chance of Taylor’s having reconsidered. But I think your request would have more weight, and I’d rather that you’d ask him. As for your interfering, I hadn’t thought of it; and I shouldn’t consider it that, sir. If you like we’ll go over and see him now.”
“A good idea; no time like the present. Where does he room?”
“At Coolidge’s.”
“Coolidge’s? I guess I don’t know that. Is it near here?”
“Well, not very, it’s almost the last house in the village, I guess; just beyond the Episcopal Church.”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of the walk,” returned Kirk. “I was only wondering if it was an old house I’d forgotten. But I think it must be new since my day.”
“It is, I guess; looks as though it hadn’t been up more than a few years.”
Kirk took a walking-stick from a corner, turned down the light, and the two left the house together and proceeded through the village, past the Town Hall, the Eagle Tavern, and the church that Dick had mentioned, until a large square frame house loomed up on their left. Dick led the way upstairs to Taylor’s room, and found that youth entertaining Waters and another boy, both of whom, however, took their leave at once. Taylor greeted Dick easily, and the coach respectfully, but was quite evidently far from being at his ease. His first thought was that Dick had confided everything to Kirk, and that there was trouble ahead. But the coach’s introduction dispelled that illusion, and he breathed easier.
“Taylor, Hope and I have come to ask your help,” announced Kirk, smiling but earnest. “To put the matter in few words, we’re in a hard way for a man at Number 7 in the varsity boat, and we want you to reconsider your decision and come back.”
It is unnecessary to follow Kirk’s argument; he said practically what Dick had said on the occasions of his two previous visits, although he said it all a trifle more forcibly, and with a suggestion of authority. And when he had finished, Taylor, who seemed greatly impressed, turned toward Dick.
“I hadn’t thought of it in just that way, sir,” he said, with an assumption of frankness, “and if Hope wants me to return I’ll do so.”
“Hope’s wishes are the same as mine,” answered Kirk gravely. “I have acted in the matter only with his full consent.”
But Taylor’s eyes were still on Dick, and he awaited that youth’s reply. Now that the moment had come to relinquish his honors Dick experienced a moment of revolt. He well knew what Taylor’s words meant; he was to be held to the terms of the offer made on his last visit. It was hardly fair, to be sure, since, with Kirk present, there was but one reply he could make. But after the first twinge of regret he was glad that it was so; the matter had been settled for him. He would resign the captaincy and Taylor should have it; he would still row in the boat, and, when the success of the crew was at stake, his sacrifice was but little after all. All this passed through his mind in the fraction of a second, and it was with but the slightest hesitation that he met Taylor’s look, and smiled across at him. The smile was prompted by relief and not by friendship; but this Kirk could not know, and so was heartily glad to see it; and concluded thereby that the quarrel between the two lads was at an end.
“Yes,” said Dick, “I want you to come back. I’ve never wanted anything else.”
“Do you mean that?” questioned Taylor’s eyes.
“I do,” answered Dick’s.
Kirk arose. “That’s settled, then, and I’m very glad. I don’t think you’ll regret it, Taylor. And I’ll look for you to-morrow afternoon, shall I?”
“Yes, sir.” He accompanied them down to the door courteously, and bade them good-night smilingly from the stoop. When the two reached the street Kirk heaved a sigh of relief.