Harvard-Yale

The crew that comes out of its starting spirit first is usually master of a race. Harvard was a nose in front at the start last week on the Thames in New London, but little Gillespie, the Yale coxswain, was shouting less often into the face of Woodruff Tappen, the big stroke. Yale cut its beat to 32, began to gain as soon as Harvard dropped from 40. It was a slate-grey afternoon; on the varnished river the fleet of yachts strung with pennants, crowded with people in summer clothes, stood in silence as the boats swept past the half-mile flags. Yale had almost a one-length lead here and was rowing more easily than Harvard. Now and then the Harvard shell swerved a little in its chase as though one side were pulling harder than the other; now and then a Harvard man looked quickly over his shoulder. Two lengths showed between the boats at a mile and one-half. An unwritten rule of boat-racing prescribes that yachts shall not blow their horns until the finish, but some Yale sympathizer felt that it did not matter whether the Yale boat heard their coxswain now or not; one siren started, and the river roared with noise. Harvard got to the line 21 sec. (5 1/2 lengths) after Yale had let its shell run. Harvard's solace: a junior varsity crew who beat Yale 3/4 of a length; a husky freshman crew who beat Yale 3 3/4 lengths.

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