Rowing Part 14

Truly a light blue cap is to the oarsman a glorious prize, but there are many hundreds of ardent enthusiasts who have to content themselves with a place in the college boats in the Lent or the May Term. Want of form, or of weight, or of the necessary strength and stamina may hinder them from attaining to a place in the University Eight, but they should console themselves by reflecting that without their patient and earnest labours for the welfare of their several colleges it would be impossible to maintain a high standard of oarsmanship, or to form a representative University Eight. Let me, therefore, be for a page or two the apologist, nay, rather the panegyrist, of the college oarsman, with whom many of my happiest hours have been spent.

Before entering upon the serious business of life as a freshman at Cambridge, the youth who is subsequently to become an oar will in all probability have fired his imagination by reading of the historical prowess of past generations of University oars in races at Henley or at Putney. Goldie who turned the tide of defeat, the Closes, Rhodes, Gurdon, Hockin, Pitman the pluckiest of strokes, and Muttlebury the mighty heavy-weight, are the heroes whom he worships, and to whose imitation he proposes to devote himself. A vision of a light blue coat and cap flits before his mind; he sees himself in fancy wresting a fiercely contested victory from the clutches of Oxford, and cheered and feted by a countless throng of his admirers. With these ideas he becomes as a freshman a member of his college boat club, and adds his name to the "tubbing list." He purchases his rowing uniform, clothes himself in it in his rooms, and one fine afternoon in October finds himself one of a crowd of nervous novices in the yard of his college boathouse. One of the captains pounces on him, selects a co-victim for him, and orders him into a gig-pair, or, to speak more correctly, "a tub." With the first stroke the beautiful azure vision vanishes, leaving only a sense of misery behind. He imagined he could row as he walked, by the light of nature. He finds that all kinds of mysterious technicalities are required of him. He has to "get hold of the beginning" to "finish it out," to take his oar "out of the water clean" (an impossibility one would think on the dirty drain-fed Cam), to "plant his feet against the stretcher," to row his shoulders back, to keep his elbows close to his sides, to shoot away his hands, to swing from his hips, under no circ.u.mstances to bend his back or to leave go with his outside hand, and, above all, to keep his swing forward as steady as a rock--an instruction to which he conforms by not swinging at all. These are but a few points out of the many which are dinned into his ears by his energetic coach. A quarter of an hour concludes his lesson, and he leaves the river a much sadder, but not necessarily a wiser man.

However, since he is young he is not daunted by all these unforeseen difficulties. He perseveres, and towards the end of his first term reaps a doubtful reward by being put into an Eight with seven other novices, to splash and roll and knock his knuckles about for an hour or so to his heart's content. Next term (the Lent Term) may find him a member of one of his college Lent boats. Then he begins to feel that pluck and ambition are not in vain, and soon afterwards for the first time he tastes the joys of training, which he will be surprised to find does not consist entirely of raw steaks and underdone chops. Common sense, in fact, has during the past fifteen years or so broken in upon the foolish regulations of the ancient system. Men who train are still compelled to keep early hours, to eat simple food at fixed times, to abjure tobacco, and to limit the quant.i.ty of liquid they absorb. But there is an immense variety in the dishes put before them; they are warned against gorging (at breakfast, indeed, men frequently touch no meat), and though they a.s.semble together in the Backs before breakfast, and are ordered to clear their pipes by a short sharp burst of one hundred and fifty yards, they are not allowed to overtire themselves by the long runs which were at one time in fashion. Far away back in the dawn of University rowing training seems to have been far laxer, though discipline may have been more strict, than it is now. Mr. J. M. Logan (the well-known Cambridge boat-builder) wrote to me on this subject: "I have heard my father say that the crews used to train on egg-flip which an old lady who then kept the Plough Inn by Ditton was very famous for making, and that crew which managed to drink most egg-flip was held to be most likely to make many b.u.mps. I believe the ingredients were gin, beer, and beaten eggs, with nutmegs and spices added. I have heard my father say that the discipline of the crews was of an extraordinary character. For instance, the captain of the Lady Margaret Boat Club used to have a bugle, and after he had sounded it the crew would have to appear on the yard in high hats and dress suits with a black tie. The penalty for appearing in a tie of any other colour was one shilling. The trousers worn on these occasions were of white jean, and had to be washed every day under a penalty of one shilling. The wearing of perfectly clean things every day was an essential part of the preparation."

All this, however, is a digression from the freshman whom we have seen safely through his tubbing troubles, and have selected for a Lent Boat.

I return to him to follow him in a career of glory which will lead him from Lent Boat to May Boat, from that to his college Four, and so perhaps through the University Trial Eights to the final goal of all rowing ambition--the Cambridge Eight. He will have suffered many things for the sake of his beloved pursuit; he will have rowed many weary miles, have learnt the misery of aching limbs and blistered hands, perhaps he may have endured the last indignity of being b.u.mped; he will have laboured under broiling suns, or with snowstorms and bitter winds beating against him; he will have voluntarily cut himself off from many pleasant indulgences. But, on the other hand, his triumphs will have been sweet; he will have trained himself to submit to discipline, to accept discomfort cheerfully, to keep a brave face in adverse circ.u.mstance; he will have developed to the full his strength and his powers of endurance, and will have learnt the necessity of unselfishness and patriotism. These are, after all, no mean results in a generation which is often accused of effeminate and debasing luxury.

A few words as to our scheme of boat-races at Cambridge. Of the Lent races I have spoken. They are rowed at the end of February in heavy ships, _i.e._ fixed-seat ships built with five streaks from a keel.

Thirty-one boats take part in them. Every college must be represented by at least one boat, though beyond that there is no restriction as to the number of boats from any particular college club. No man who has taken part in the previous May races is permitted to row. In fact, they are a preparatory school for the development of eight-oared rowing. Next term is given up to the May races, which are rowed in light ships, _i.e._ keel-less ships with sliding seats. No club can have more than three or less than one crew in these races. In this term the pair-oared races are also rowed, generally before the Eights. The Fours, both in light ships and, for the less ambitious colleges whose Eights may be in the second division, in clinker-built boats, take place at the end of October, and are followed by the Colquhoun, or University Sculls, and next by the University Trial Eights, two picked crews selected by the President of the University Boat Club from the likely men of every college club. The trial race always takes place near Ely, over the three miles of what is called the Adelaide course. Besides all these races, each college has its own races, confined to members of the college. But of course the glory of college racing culminates in the May term. Who shall calculate all the forethought, energy, self-denial, and patriotic labour, all the carefully organized skill and patient training which are devoted to the May races; for so they are still called, though they never take place now before June? Every man who rows in his college crew feels that to him personally the traditions and the honour of his college are committed. The meadow at Ditton is alive with a brilliant throng of visitors, the banks swarm with panting enthusiasts armed with every kind of noisy instrument, and all intent to spur the energies of their several Eights. One by one the crews, clothed in their blazers, with their straw hats on their heads, paddle down to the start, pausing at Ditton to exchange greetings with the visitors. In the Post Reach they turn, disembark for a few moments, and wander nervously up and down the bank. At last the first gun is fired, the oarsmen strip for the race. Their clothes are collected and borne along in front by perspiring boatmen, so as to be ready for them at the end of the race. The men step gingerly into their frail craft and await the next gun. Bang! Another minute. The boat is pushed out, the c.o.xwain holding his chain; the crew come forward, every nerve strained for the start; the cry of the careful timekeepers is heard along the reach, the gun fires, and a universal roar proclaims the start of the sixteen crews. For four "nights" the conflict rages, bringing triumph and victory to some, and pain and defeat to others; and at the end comes the glorious b.u.mp-supper, with its toasts, its songs, and its harmless, noisy rejoicings, on which the dons look with an indulgent eye, and in which they even sometimes take part for the honour of the college.

Happy are those who still dwell in Cambridge courts and follow the delightful labour of the oar! For the rest of us there can only be memories of the time when we toiled round the never-ending Gra.s.sy corner, spurted in the Plough, heard dimly the deafening cheers of the crowd at Ditton, and finally made our b.u.mp amid the confused roar of hundreds of voices, the booming of fog-horns the screech of rattles, and the ringing of bells. What joy in after-life can equal the intoxication of the moment when we stepped out upon the bank to receive the congratulations of our friends, whilst the unfurled flag proclaimed our victory to the world?

To such scenes the mind travels back through the vista of years with fond regret. For most of us our racing days are over, but we can still glory in the triumphs of our college or our University, and swear by the n.o.blest of open-air sports.

CHAPTER XIV.

ROWING AT ETON COLLEGE.

_By W. E. Crum_,

Captain of the Boats, 1893; President O.U.B.C. 1896, 1897.

In most books that have been published on rowing matters, a chapter has been devoted to rowing at Eton. But these accounts have been mainly of a historical nature, and have not, I think, dealt sufficiently with the career of an Eton boy, from the time when he pa.s.ses through the ordeal of the swimming examination up to the proud moment when he wears the light blue at Henley, representing his school in the Ladies' Plate.

Before any boy is allowed to go on the river at all, he is obliged to satisfy the authorities of his ability to reach the banks of the river safely if he should upset while boating. This swimming examination is held about once a week after bathing has commenced in the summer half at the two bathing-places, Cuckoo Weir and Athens, which are reserved for the use of the boys alone.

On the Acropolis, a mound raised some ten feet above the water for diving purposes, sit the two or three masters whose duty it is to conduct the "pa.s.sing." On one side a punt is moored, from which the boys enter the water head first as best they can. They have to swim a distance of about twenty yards, round a pole, and return, showing that they can swim in good style, and can keep themselves afloat by "treading water."

When a boy has successfully pa.s.sed this examination, he is at liberty to go on the river. As it is probably well on in the summer half before he has pa.s.sed, and it is more than likely that he has never before handled an oar, we will suppose that he does not enter for the Lower Boy races that year, but has to learn by himself, with no coaches to help him, the rudiments of rowing and sculling on fixed seats. Always on the river, whenever he has an hour to spare from his school duties, the Lower Boy soon acquires that knowledge of "watermanship" for which Etonian oarsmen are famous.

By the end of the summer half, he can sit his sculling-boat in comparative safety, and has learnt, perhaps, at the cost of several fines, the rules of the river, which are considered sacred by all Eton boys.

The ensuing winter terms are devoted to football and fives, rowing not being allowed; and we may pa.s.s on to the next summer, when our Lower Boy will probably enter for both Lower Boy sculling and pulling (_i.e._ pairs). These two races are rowed in boats almost peculiar to Eton. That used for the Lower Boy pulling is called a "perfection," of which the design is due to the Rev. S. A. Donaldson; it is an open, clinker-built, outrigged boat, which recalls the lines of the old Thames wherry. That used for the Lower Boy sculling is known as a "whiff," an open clinker boat with outriggers. On an average about a dozen compet.i.tors enter for these events, five or six boats being started together, the first and second in each heat rowing in the final. The course, which is about two miles long, begins opposite the Brocas, extending for a mile upstream, where the compet.i.tors turn round a ryepeck, and then down-stream to the finish, just above Windsor Bridge.

If fairly successful in his school examinations, the boy whose career we are considering will, after his second summer, have reached the fifth form, a position which ent.i.tles him to be tried for the boats. He probably does not succeed in obtaining the coveted colour at the first attempt; and it is, say, in his third summer, that he first comes under the eye of a coach.

For the last month of the summer half, as many as ten or a dozen eights are taken out by members of the Upper Boats every evening, and four crews are selected from these, put into training, and carefully coached, and after about a fortnight's practice race against each other from Sandbank down to the bridge, a distance of about three-quarters of a mile; the race is called "Novice Eights," and each crew is stroked by a member of the Lower Boats. Every boy who rows in this race may be sure that he will get into the boats on the following 1st of March; and having reached this important point in an Eton wetbob's career, I must endeavour to explain the meaning of the term "The Boats," which I have already frequently used.

The Boats are composed of one ten-oared, and nine eight-oared crews, presumably made up of the eighty-two best oarsmen in the school; the boats are subdivided into two cla.s.ses, Upper and Lower Boats.

The Upper Boats comprise the ten-oared _Monarch_, and the two eights, _Victory_ and _Prince of Wales_; the Lower Boats are more numerous, consisting of seven eights, which have characteristic names, such as _Britannia_, _Dreadnought_, _Hibernia_, and _Defiance_. Each of the Upper Boats has a distinctive colour just like any other school team, whereas all members of the Lower Boats wear the same cap.

At the head of the Eton wetbob world there reigns supreme the Captain of the Boats, who is always regarded in the eyes of a small Eton boy as next in importance only to the Prince of Wales and the Archbishop of Canterbury. He is captain of the _Monarch_, and after him, in order of merit, come the captains of the other boats, who act as his lieutenants; these captains are practically appointed by the first captain of the previous year, and were probably all members of the Upper Boats in that year.

At the beginning of each summer term the Captain of the Boats calls a meeting of his other boat captains; he has by him a list of all those who were already members of the boats the year before, and he knows pretty correctly the form of every one of them; thus, with his lieutenants' help he can a.s.sign to each oarsman the boat in which he considers him worthy to row.

The first boat to be made up is the _Monarch_. Though nominally the first of the boats, the _Monarch_ is actually composed of those who, from their place in the school, or from their prowess at other games, deserve some recognition; in fact, I may best designate the members of the "ten," as good worthy people, who have tried to row well and have not succeeded.

The next boat is the _Victory_, and here we find the pick of the previous year's Lower Boats. Though junior, and in order of precedence below all the captains of the various boats, these eight have just as much chance of rowing in the eight at Henley as any of the captains; for the younger oar, whose faults can easily be cured, is often preferred to his stronger senior, whose faults are fixed and difficult to eradicate.

Similar to the _Victory_, though of rather a lower standard, is the _Prince of Wales_, or "Third Upper;" and this is composed of the remnants of the previous year's Lower Boats who are not quite good enough for the _Victory_. The great distinction in the present day between Upper and Lower Boats is that all those in the former may row in any boat on sliding seats, while to those in the latter only fixed seats are allowed.

Having completed his Upper Boats, the captain has now to fill the seats in the seven Lower Boats. A few of the refuse, one may almost call them, of the year before are still left; refuse, because it is rarely the case that a boy who is more than one year in Lower Boats develops into a really good oar. To these are generally a.s.signed the best places in the Lower Boats, and after them come, in order of merit, as far as possible, all those who rowed in the previous summer in the "Novice Eight" race.

Thus, just as the _Victory_ is always better than the _Monarch_, so the _Dreadnought_, the second Lower Boat, is often better than the _Britannia_, which may be composed of old "crocks."

On the 1st of March and the 4th of June in each year the boats row in procession, in their order, each boat stroked by its captain, up to Surley Hall, where, on the 4th of June, a supper is held. But I will leave a description of the 4th of June till later, and will return to where I left our successful Etonian, who has just received his Lower-Boat colours.

During his first summer half in the boats he is practically never out of training. As soon as he has rowed one race he must begin practice for the next. The first race of the season is "Lower Eights." Four crews are chosen from among members of the Lower Boats, are coached for three weeks by members of the Upper Boats, and then race for a mile and a half. After this follow "Lower Fours," in which, again, four crews take part, chosen from the best of those who have raced in Lower Eights.

These two races are rowed in order that those in authority may see how their juniors can race, and also that the said juniors may profit by efficient coaching. No prizes are awarded; they simply row for the honour of winning. After these come Junior Sculling and Junior Pulling, two races again confined to the Lower Boats. They are rowed in light, keelless, outrigged boats, with fixed seats, no c.o.xswain being carried by the pairs. And here, again, much watermanship is learned, for the Eton course is a difficult one to steer, and only those who steer well can have any chance of a win. As many as fifty entries are sometimes received for Junior Sculling, for though an Eton boy may have no chance of winning a race, he will start, just for the sport of racing and improving his rowing, a proceeding which might well be imitated at Oxford or Cambridge. Each boy who starts in one of these races has to wear a jersey trimmed with a distinctive colour, and carry a flag in his bows; and it is extraordinary what ugly combinations some of them choose and think beautiful.

These four races have taken our young friend well on into the summer half; but after Henley is over, he will probably have to represent his House in the House Four race. Perhaps at his tutor's there may be one or two who have rowed at Henley in the Eight, and with these, and possibly another boy in Lower Boats, he has to train for another three weeks to row in what has been called, in a song familiar to Etonians of late years, "_the_ race of the year." It is an inspiriting sight for any one who wishes to get an idea of an Eton race to see the crowds of men and boys, masters and pupils, wetbobs and drybobs, running along the bank with the race, some so far ahead that they can see nothing, some with the boats, some tired out and lagging behind, but all shouting for a particular crew or individual as if their lives depended on it.

In the last few years another race has been established for the Lower Boats; but it has not met with the approval of many Old Etonians. It is a b.u.mping race, similar to those at Oxford and Cambridge, rowed by the different Lower Boats--_Britannia_, _Dreadnought_, etc. It is claimed that by practising for this race many of those who would not otherwise get much teaching are coached by competent people, and thus the standard of rowing is raised; but the opponents of the measure object, and as I think rightly, on the grounds that the average oar in the Lower Boats has quite enough rowing and racing as it is, and that even if more racing were needed, a b.u.mping race is the very worst that can be rowed.

It is necessary at the Universities, on account of the narrowness of the rivers, to hold these races, for two boats cannot race abreast; but they must tend to make crews rush and hurry for two or three minutes, and then try to get home as best they can.

So much for the Lower Boat races. And there is only one more point to add concerning the Lower Boats: at the end of each summer half a list is published called "Lower Boat Choices," comprising about twenty of the Lower Boat oarsmen; to these also is given a special colour; and it is in the order of these choices that places in the Upper Boats are a.s.signed in the following spring.

Having, therefore, in the next year, risen to the dignity of the Upper Boats, our Etonian has before him almost as many races as when he was in Lower Boats. His first is "Trial Eights." This takes place at the end of the Lent term, between two eight-oared crews, rowing on sliding seats, and chosen by the Captain of the Boats. It is from these two crews, picked from the Upper Boats and the boat captains, that the Henley Eight has to be chosen; and it is, therefore, the object of the first and second captains of the boats to equalize them as far as possible, so that they may have a close race, and that the rowing and stamina of individuals at high pressure may be watched. In the summer half come the School Pulling and Sculling, similar to junior races, but rowed on sliding seats, and confined to the Upper Boats. The winner of a school race, besides getting his prize, is ent.i.tled to wear a "School Shield"--a small gold shield, on which are engraved the Eton arms, and the name and year of the race won. To secure a "School Shield" is one of the greatest ambitions of every ambitious Etonian.

These two races being over, practice for the Eight which is to row at Henley begins. Every day the Captain of the Boats, aided by one or two masters, who have probably represented their Universities at Putney in their day, has out two crews, composed of the best of those who are in Upper Boats. These crews are gradually weeded out till, perhaps, only an eight and a four are left; and then, at last, the Eight is finally chosen.

It is difficult to say who should be pitied most while this process of choosing the crew is going on--the captain or those who are striving for their seats; the captain always worried and anxious that he should get the best crew to represent his school, the crew always in agony lest they should be turned out, and should never be able to wear the light blue. Of course, the captain has the advice of those much more experienced than himself; but if there is a close point to settle, it is on him alone that the responsibility of the choice falls.

Once safely settled in the boat, there follows a period of five or six weeks of mixed pleasure and pain, for every crew, however good, must pa.s.s through periods of demoralization when for a few days they cease to improve, and periods of joy when they realize that, after all, they have some chance of turning out well.

For the last three weeks of this Henley practice the Eight is in strict training; but training for Eton boys is no great hardship. The days of "hard steak and a harder hen" are over. The Eton boy is always fit, and the chief point he has to observe is regularity.

His meals are much the same as usual--breakfast at eight, lunch at two, a light tea at five, supper together at eight in the evening, and bed at ten. There is no need to pull him out of bed in the morning, as at the Universities, for he has to go to school every morning at seven o'clock; he does not usually smoke--or, at any rate, is not supposed to by the rules of the school, and it is rarely that this rule is broken--and he does not indulge in large unwholesome dinners, after the manner of many undergraduates.

Every evening at six o'clock he goes down to the river, and is probably tubbed in a gig-pair before rowing down the Datchet reach in the Eight.

About twice a week the crew rows a full racing course, and is taken in for the last three minutes by a scratch crew, which goes by the name of "duffers," composed of five or six Old Etonians and masters, and one or two Eton boys, who are kept in training as spare men. The crew is coached from a horse by one of the masters--of late years Mr. de Havilland, who is certainly as keen for his crew to win as any boy in the school.

For the last five years the crew has taken a house at Henley for the days of the regatta, and gone to Henley by train the afternoon before the races. Though much wiser, this departure from Eton is not as impressive as in older days, when the crew used to drive to Henley for each day's racing; when, filled with pride and shyness, the young oarsman used to issue from his tutor's, wearing for the first time his light-blue coat and white cap, and walk to Mr. Donaldson's or Dr.

Warre's house, where waited the brake which was to convey the crew, with the cheers of the crowd, along the hot, dusty road to Henley. In 1891, the last year that this drive was taken, the crew, before the final of the Ladies' Plate, had to drive no less than seventy-five miles in three days. They were only beaten by a few feet, and there is little doubt that but for this most tiring drive they would have won. Once at Henley, all is pleasure. No crew is more popular, none more cheered, as it paddles down the course to the starting-point and as it arrives first at the winning-post. The scene of enthusiasm, not only among Etonians, but among the whole rowing world, when an Eton crew wins the Ladies'

Plate after a lapse of several years, is past description.

After Henley come House Fours; and then the list of Upper Boat choices is made up by the Captain of the Boats. The captain, by this means, appoints his successor for the following year, for he arranges these choices in order of merit, just as Lower Boat choices are arranged, and the highest choice remaining at Eton till the next year becomes captain.

Thus the power of the captain is absolute; he can appoint whomever he likes to be his successor, and it is seldom that the choice falls on the wrong boy. Besides being the sole authority in these matters, the captain has to arrange all the money matters of the E.C.B.C.; over five hundred pounds pa.s.s through his hands in a year, and this gives an extra responsibility to his post. Of course all his accounts are carefully audited by one of the masters, and the experience gained, not only in looking after money, but also in arranging dates of races, in choosing and in captaining his crew, and in judging disputed points, is well worth all the trouble and worry entailed.

Our Eton Lower Boy has now reached the position of Captain of the Boats, and here I will leave him to go on either to Oxford or Cambridge and represent his University at Putney. A few words, however, may still be added.

There is a great difference between teaching a boy of sixteen and a man of twenty to row, and this difference lies in the fact that it is much easier, and perhaps even more important, to teach your boy to row in good form. By good form, I mean the power to use all his strength directly in making the boat move so that no energy is wasted in making the body pa.s.s through the extraordinary contortions and antics often seen in an inferior college crew.

It is easier to teach the boy of sixteen to row in good form, because his muscles are not yet formed, and his body still lithe and supple; it is more important to teach him, because he is not so strong as his elders, and consequently has not as much strength to waste.