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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. We swung our oar-blades forward. "Ready?"
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!
The Tuebrook had made a bad start, but was thrashing away pluckily in the rear. So we hammered at it for a third of the course, when Takia took charge. Since his famous start he had left us to take stroke as Jones pressed us, but now he saw signs of the waver that comes after the first furious burst shifting grip or change of foothold. "'Trok! 'trok! 'trok!" he muttered, and steadied the pace.
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