A nut-brown little Siamese in a white cap, hunched in the stern of a fragile racing shell on the Thames, barking shrill orders at eight lusty Britons who thrashed the grimy water with long oars, was the cynosure of 500,000 pairs of eyes for a few minutes one afternoon last week. He, Prince Komarakul-Na-Nagara, was coxswain of the Oxford varsity crew and for most of the first quarter of the race, his men held the lead he had shot them away to a few strokes after the start. But Cambridge pulled ahead at the mile and stayed thereĀone-third of a length...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
