Still we go pulsing along at a great pace, showing our heels to many a steamer as big again as ourselves, till at length we find ourselves once more at Erith. Here we secure a position close to the Committee Boat, and not far from the winning-post—a small buoy with a flag atop of it anchored out some distance in the river. Gradually more steamers and tugs take up positions no great distance away. On every side of us are music, dancing, feasting, and high-jinks generally; but not one angry word, not one coarse expression is anywhere to be heard. Nowhere could there be a better-tempered holiday crowd.
At length a buzz, a murmur, a general movement, and each one says to his neighbour, ‘Here comes the first topsail,’ while everybody seems to ask at once, ‘What’s her number?’ A gun is fired, a band plays _See the conquering Hero comes_, a great shout is set up, and we all know that the _Whimbrel_ has won the first prize.
‘Never prophesy till you know,’ seems to be a maxim of wide application. Who would have thought that the saucy _Frances_, which headed all the others round the Nore, would only come in fifth at the finish? But so it was; while the _R. A. Gibbons_, which was fourth round the light, came in for the second prize. So among the spritsails—the first round the light came in second, and the second first.
We do not wait to see the prizes given away, for the evening is growing chilly, and many of us have a long way to go. We chase the dying sunset as we steam swiftly up stream, but fail to overtake it. Little by little its splendours soften, fade, and vanish. Some time between nine and ten, and while there is still a dusky shimmer on the river, we find ourselves once more at Blackwall pier; and there we part, hoping to meet next year when time shall have again brought round the pleasant River Holiday.
It did not occur to either of these young people that there was anything at all remarkable or irregular in the circumstance of a lady visiting the chambers of her betrothed alone. But as this was her first visit, Madge felt a little awkward, and would have been much more at ease if Wrentham had not been present.
That gentleman, however, as soon as he perceived who the visitor was, took up his glossy hat, made his salutations to Miss Heathcote, and informed Philip that he was obliged to hurry along to the office before it closed, but would probably return later.