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Three Men in a Boat-Part23_Jerome K.Jerome(1859-1927)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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exclamatory and mono-syllabic order, and as soon as you can tear yourself



away you do so.

I devoted some three months to rafting, and, being then as proficient as



there was any need to be at that branch of the art, I determined to go in

for rowing proper, and joined one of the Lea boating clubs.



Being out in a boat on the river Lea, especially on Saturday afternoons,

soon makes you smart at handling a craft, and spry at escaping being run



down by roughs or swamped by barges; and it also affords plenty of

opportunity for acquiring the most prompt and graceful method of lying



down flat at the bottom of the boat so as to avoid being chucked out into

the river by passing tow-lines.



But it does not give you style. It was not till I came to the Thames

that I got style. My style of rowing is very much admired now. People



say it is so quaint.

George never went near the water until he was sixteen. Then he and eight



other gentlemen of about the same age went down in a body to Kew one

Saturday, with the idea of hiring a boat there, and pulling to Richmond



and back; one of their number, a shock-headed youth, named Joskins, who

had once or twice taken out a boat on the Serpentine, told them it was



jolly fun, boating!

The tide was running out pretty rapidly when they reached the landing-



stage, and there was a stiff breeze blowing across the river, but this

did not trouble them at all, and they proceeded to select their boat.



There was an eight-oared racing outrigger drawn up on the stage; that was

the one that took their fancy. They said they'd have that one, please.



The boatman was away, and only his boy was in charge. The boy tried to

damp their ardour for the outrigger, and showed them two or three very



comfortable-looking boats of the family-party build, but those would not

do at all; the outrigger was the boat they thought they would look best



in.

So the boy launched it, and they took off their coats and prepared to



take their seats. The boy suggested that George, who, even in those

days, was always the heavy man of any party, should be number four.



George said he should be happy to be number four, and promptly stepped

into bow's place, and sat down with his back to the stern. They got him



into his proper position at last, and then the others followed.

A particularly nervous boy was appointed cox, and the steering principle



explained to him by Joskins. Joskins himself took stroke. He told the

others that it was simple enough; all they had to do was to follow him.



They said they were ready, and the boy on the landing stage took a boat-

hook and shoved him off.



What then followed George is unable to describe in detail. He has a

confused recollection of having, immediately on starting, received a



violent blow in the small of the back from the butt-end of number five's

scull, at the same time that his own seat seemed to disappear from under



him by magic, and leave him sitting on the boards. He also noticed, as a

curious circumstance, that number two was at the same instant lying on



his back at the bottom of the boat, with his legs in the air, apparently

in a fit.



They passed under Kew Bridge, broadside, at the rate of eight miles an

hour. Joskins being the only one who was rowing. George, on recovering



his seat, tried to help him, but, on dipping his oar into the water, it

immediately, to his intense surprise, disappeared under the boat, and



nearly took him with it.

And then "cox" threw both rudder lines over-board, and burst into tears.



How they got back George never knew, but it took them just forty minutes.

A dense crowd watched the entertainment from Kew Bridge with much



interest, and everybody shouted out to them different directions. Three

times they managed to get the boat back through the arch, and three times



they were carried under it again, and every time "cox" looked up and saw

the bridge above him he broke out into renewed sobs.



George said he little thought that afternoon that he should ever come to

really like boating.



Harris is more accustomed to sea rowing than to river work, and says

that, as an exercise, he prefers it. I don't. I remember taking a small



boat out at Eastbourne last summer: I used to do a good deal of sea

rowing years ago, and I thought I should be all right; but I found I had



forgotten the art entirely. When one scull was deep down underneath the

water, the other would be flourishing wildly about in the air. To get a



grip of the water with both at the same time I had to stand up. The

parade was crowded with nobility and gentry, and I had to pull past them



in this ridiculous fashion. I landed half-way down the beach, and

secured the services of an old boatman to take me back.



I like to watch an old boatman rowing, especially one who has been hired

by the hour. There is something so beautifully calm and restful about






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