Classicly

Erith is reached a little before eleven; and here we find the competing barges arranged in order, waiting for the signal, while the pleasant little town itself is en fête, and thousands of eyes are looking on from the shore. We voyagers who have come to watch the race keep well in the background, so as not to impede the start; the Committee Boat takes up its position; a gun is fired; and before you know what has happened, anchors are tripped, sails are loosened to the breeze, and the barges, topsail and spritsail, spring forward on their course like a flight of dark-hued seabirds newly set free.