EXCITING “DUCK HUNT” AT THE THORNDON BATHS.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2170, 8 February 1881, Page 4

EXCITING “DUCK HUNT” AT THE THORNDON BATHS.

One of the items of the programme for the aquatic sports at the Thorndon Baths on Saturday afternoon consisted of a “ duck hunt.” The contest was a very exciting one. Boughly estimated, the competitors numbered nearly fifty persons. The whole of these were collected on a platform abutting from the south side of the baths. A gentleman, euphoniously designated in the programme aa “ Professor Windbags,” who, it may be remarked, possesses natatorial abilities of a very high order, generously volunteered to sustain the role of the “duck,” and his services were eagerly accepted. It was arranged that Professor W. should be allowed a fair start, and that the “hunt” should then commence without delay. Naturally, the spectators seated in the overlooking balcony, among whom were a large number of ladies, no less than the competitors, were on the tiptoe of expectation, the affair promising to be productive of much amusement. In this hope they were not disappointed. The contestants impatiently awaited the completiou of the preliminary arrangements, and the first intimation they received of the fact that the “hunt” had commenced consisted of a loud crash of timber, accompanied by a series of terrordepicting shrieks from the balcony. The next moment the whole of the competitors—most of whom, however, had omitted to go through the formal process of furnishing their names to Mr Wallace, the zealous starter—found themselves plunged neck deep in the salt water. The contest then began in real earnest. The “duck” was nowhere to be seen, but this did not seem to discourage the impetuous competitors, who strained every nerve to regain a secure position. The platform—a very frail one at the best—had succumbed to the heavy weight, and swimmers and non-swimmers were mixed together in the utmost confusion. The picture was intensely ludicrous. Few had the advantage of being in swimming costume and the majority therefore had good reason to complain of their involuntary plunge bath. Considerable consternation reigned for some minutes. The starter went down holding three screaming lads in his arms. All did their best to keep their heads above water, and force themselves from the debris, and some clutched hold of those nearest them with fearful tenacity. Hate, caps, and sticks floated on the water in great abundance, and some of the smaller nonswimming fry yelled lustily for help. It soon became apparent, however, that the accident was unaccompanied with more disastrous results than a few scratches and bruises, and the terror of five minutes previously made way for hearty laughter, at the expense of those who had fallen victims to the patent “ ducking stool.”—“ Post.”