pened with
Tom in his practical study of the science of rowing that by
thinking of his hands he forgot his seat, and the necessity of
trimming properly. Whereupon the old tub began to rock fearfully,
and the next moment, he missed the water altogether with his
right scull, and subsided backwards, not without struggles, into
the bottom of the boat; while the half stroke which he had pulled
with his left hand sent her head well into the bank.

Tom picked himself up, and settled himself on his bench again, a
sadder and wiser man, as the truth began to dawn upon him that
pulling, especially sculling, does not, like reading and writing,
come by nature. However, he addressed himself manfully to his
task; savage indeed, and longing to drive a hole in the bottom of
the old tub, but as resolved as ever to get to Sandford and back
before hall time, or perish in the attempt.

He shoved himself off the bank, and warned by his last mishap,
got out into mid stream, and there, moderating his ardor, and
contenting himself with a slow and steady stroke, was progressing
satisfactorily, and beginning to recover his temper, when a loud
shout startled him; and, looking over his shoulder at the
imminent risk of an upset, he beheld the fast sailor the Dart,
close hauled on a wind, and almost aboard of him. Utterly
ignorant of what was the right thing to do, he held on his
course, and passed close under the bows of the miniature cutter,
the steersman having jammed his helm hard down, shaking her in
the wind, to prevent running over the skiff, and solacing himself
with pouring maledictions on Tom and his craft, in which the man
who had hold of the sheets, and the third, who was lounging in
the bows, heartily joined. Tom was out of ear-shot before he had
collected vituperation enough to hurl back at them, and was,
moreover, already in the difficult navigation of the Gut, where,
notwithstanding all his efforts, he again ran aground; but, with
this exception, he arrived without other mishap at Iffley, where
he lay on his sculls with much satisfaction, and shouted,
"Lock--lock!"

The lock-keeper appeared to the summons, but instead of opening
the gates seized a long boat-hook, and rushed towards our hero,
calling upon him to mind the mill-stream, and pull his right-hand
scull; notwithstanding which warning, Tom was within an ace of
drifting past the entrance to the lock, in which case assuredly
his boat, if not he, had never returned whole. H