Porter, Coates, and Gilks all repudiated the suggestion, and once more, amid the ironical cheers of the onlookers, Fairbairn resumed his work and lashed viciously out with his oar.
This last protest of his seemed to have had the desired effect, for during the rest of the journey up to the Willows the boat travelled fairly well, though it was evident plenty of work was needed before the crew could be considered in proper racing trim.

But no sooner had they turned and started for the home journey than once again the rolling suddenly became manifest.

Fairbairn rowed on a stroke or two without apparently noticing it, then turning sharply round in the middle of a stroke he discovered the reason.
The blade of Gilks's oar was about a foot under the surface, and he himself was lurching over his seat, with the handle of the oar up to about his chin.
"What on earth do you mean by it ?" demanded Fairbairn, angrily.
"Mean by what ?" asked Gilks.
"By playing the fool like that; that's what I mean," retorted Fairbairn.
"Who was playing the fool ?" snarled Gilks.

"How can I help catching a crab when he's constantly turning the boat's head in the middle of a stroke ?" "All rot!" said Fairbairn.
"All very well for you at stroke," said Gilks, viciously.

"You come and row bow and see if you don't feel it.