College fourA COLLEGE FOUR.
A COLLEGE FOUR.
The fewer the number of performers in a boat the longer does it take (with material of uniform quality) to acquire absolute evenness of action. This may seem paradoxical, but none the less all practical oarsmen will, from their own personal experiences, endorse the statement. It has been said that it takes twice as long to perfect a four as an eight, twice as long to perfect a pair as a four, and twice as long to perfect a sculler as a pair. This scale may be fanciful, but it is approximately truthful; it refers, of course, to the education of oarsmen for work in the respective craft, from their earliest days of instruction. It means that a higher standard of watermanship has to be attained, in order to do justice to the style of craft rowed in, according as the ship carries more or fewer performers. Many an oarsman who by honest tugging can improve the go of aneight-oar will do more harm than good in a light four, and will be simply helpless in a racing pair.
Four-oar races, with the exception of some junior contests, are now rowed in coxswainless craft. The first of these seen in Europe was that of the St. John’s Canadian crew (professional, but admitted for the nonce as amateurs) at the Paris International Regatta 1867. All the other crews carried steerers. The Canadians had the windward station in a stiff wind, and won easily. Next year the B.N.C. Oxon Club produced a four thus constructed at Henley. The rules did not forbid this; but the novelty scared other competitors and threatened to spoil the racing in that class. The stewards accordingly passed a resolution forbidding any of the entries to dispense with a coxswain, and under cover of this disqualified the B.N.C. four when it came in ahead.
Next year the resolution referred to remained in force (as regards the Challenge Cups), but a presentation prize for fours without coxswains was given, and was won by the Oxford Radleian Club. In 1871 the chief professional matches were rowed without coxswains; but no more prizes were given for this class of rowing at Henley until 1873, when the Stewards’ Cup was classed for ‘no coxswains.’ At Oxford college fours were similarly altered, but the steering was so bad that it was seriously proposed to revert to the old system. A similar proposal was made with regard to Henley. Fortunately, wiser counsels prevailed, and oarsmen realised that it was better to attempt to raise their own talents to the standard required for the improved build than to detract from the build to suit the failings of mediocrity. In 1875 the Visitors and Wyfold Cups were emancipated from coxswains, and since then the standard of amateur four-oar rowing has gradually risen to the requirements of the improved class of build.
Steerage is of course the main difficulty in these pairs. Three different sorts of apparatus have been used in them. Two of these are much of the same sort. One, generally in use to this day, consists of two bars projecting from the stretcher, andworking horizontally in slits cut in the board. The foot presses against one bar or other to direct the rudder, Another process is to fix a shoe to the stretcher, in which the oarsman places his foot. This shoe works laterally. The third is one tried by the writer in 1868. Every inventor thinks his goose a swan, and possibly the writer is over-sanguine as to the merits of his own hobby. It consists of two bars laid on the stretcher, like a very widely opened letter V, the arms of the V pointing in the direction of the sitter. Each arm is hinged at the apex of the V. The stretcher is grooved, so that either arm can be pressed into the groove, flush with the surface of the stretcher. Behind each bar is a spring. The bars cross the stretcher just about the ball of the foot. The hinge is sunk deep in the wood, so that the arms of the levers do not begin to project above the wood till some 5 inches on either side of the centre of the stretcher. The feet are placed in ordinary rowing pose, in the middle of the V, where the levers lie below the flush surface of the stretcher. The strap, though tight, has awideloop, to admit of slight lateral movement of the feet. To put on rudder either foot is slipped half an inch or so outward. This brings it on to the lever of that side, and the pressure of the foot drives the lever flush. This pressure and movement of the lever, by means of another small lever and swivel outside the gunwale, in connection with it, works the rudder line. When steerage enough has been obtained, a half-inch return of the foot to its normal pose releases the lever, and the spring behind it at once brings it tostatus quo ante.
Now in the other two mechanisms above cited, the same foot has to steerbothways. Hence, for one of the two directions, the toe must turn in like a pigeon’s. This must, for the moment, cripple leg-work, especially on slides. Again, with lateral movement in first and second machines, it is difficult for the steerer to know to exactness when his rudder is ‘off.’ He may, in returning it after steerage, leave it a trifle on, or carry it the other way too far. If so, he has to counter-steer a stroke or two later, till he feels that his rudder is free and trailing.The writer claims for his own invention that it never removes the feet from the proper outward-turned pose against the stretcher, and that the springs under the lever ensure the rudder swinging back and ‘trailing’ so soon as a lever is released.
Whatever apparatus is used,wires, not strings, should lead the rudder, and should not be too tight; they will pull enough, though slightly loose.
Anyone may steer; the best waterman, if not too short-sighted, should do so, but stroke should not take the task if anyone else is at all fit for it.
Four oarFOUR-OAR.
FOUR-OAR.
The steerer should not be repeatedly looking round, as regards his course. If he is sure of no obstacles lying in his path, he can, when once he has laid his boat straight for a reach, watch her stern-post, and keep touch on it, to hold it to some landmark.
A coxswainless four really facilitates oarsmanship. It recovers from a roll more freely than the old-fashioned build with a pilot. It is uneven rowing which causes a roll, but when once equilibrium has been disturbed the coxswain has more difficulty than the crew in regaining balance. The oarsmenaid themselves with their oars, as with balancing poles. The removal of the coxswain therefore tends to reduce the rolling, and facilitates the speedy return of the ship to her keel when momentarily thrown off it. Coxswainless fours at Henley travel now much more steadily than did those with coxswains fifteen years ago. A runner on the bank, to look out for obstructive craft, is useful in practice. It enables the steerer to keep his eyes on his stern-post, and to guide his course thereby in confidence, without repeated twists round to see if any loafing duffer is going to smash his timbers. The pace of a first-class coxswainless four, in smooth water, for half a mile is quite as great as that of a second-class eight-oar with a coxswain. The abolition of coxswain has improved the speed of fours some forty seconds over the Henley course.
One good resulted from the attempt of B.N.C. in 1868 to row without a coxswain. It opened the eyes of the regatta executive to the unfairness of tolerating boy coxswains. The University clubs used to carry boys of four or five stone. In that very year the ‘Oscillators’ had a four-stone lad, while University College carried an eight-stone man. There was just as much difference between these two fours in dead weight carried as between B.N.C. (with no coxswain) and the Oscillators. University clubs areex officiodebarred from obtaining boys to steer. This inequality had been complained of by college crews time after time. Old Mr. Lane, the usual vice-chairman, used to sneer at the complaint, and say, ‘If a boy can do in one boat what it takes a man to do in another, it is not fair to prohibit the boy.’ If this were logical, then,pari passu, there could be no unfairness for one man to do single-handed what in other boats it took a man and a boy (or two men) to do, viz. both row and steer. Mr. Lane’s fallacy was exploded by thisreductio ad absurdumof his tenets, and regulation weights for coxswains were initiated for following years.
Barge, swans and horse near MedenhamNEAR MEDMENHAM.
NEAR MEDMENHAM.
More than one master of oarsmanship has declared that good pair-oar rowing is the acme of oarsmanship. Just as there are fewer oarsmen who can do justice to a four-oar than to an eight, so when we come to pair-oars we find still fewer performers who can really show first-class style in this line of rowing. Much as watermanship is needed in a four, it is still more important to possess it when rowing in a pair. One, or even two men, out of a four-oared crew may be what would be considered bad watermen, i.e. notau faitat sitting a rolling boat, and not instinctively time-keepers. Yet, if the other two men have the quality of watermanship, the four may speedily fall together, provided the two outsiders show sound general principles of style. In a pair-oar, if either of the hands is a bad waterman, the combination will never rise above mediocrity.In pair-oar rowing there is needed aje-ne-sais-quoisort of mutual concession of style. One man is stroke and the other bow, but there is in good pair-oarsmen an indefinite and almost unconscious give-and-take action on the part of both men. The style of the two is a sort of blend.
Old Harry Clasper, when asked which steered, of himself and his son Jack, in a pair, said that ‘both steered.’ To do this is the acme of homogeneous rowing. Of two partners one may, and should, act as chief; but his colleague should be co-operating with him, and almost anticipating his motions and orders.
When two strange partners commence work, they should make up their minds not to row ‘jealous.’ If each begins by trying to row the other round, they will disagree like Richard Penlake and his wife. They had better each try to see who can do least work: sit the boat, paddle gently, studying to drop into the water together, to catch the water together, to finish together, to feather together (and cleanly), and to recover together. The less work they try to do, while thus seeking to assimilate their motions to each other, the quicker will they settle down.
As to rowing each other round, such emulation should never enter their heads. To row a partner round is no proof of having done more work than he towards propelling the boat. One man may catch sharply and row cleanly, and in a style calculated to make a boat travel; his colleague may slither the beginning and tug at the end, staying a fraction of a second later in the water than the other, but rowing no longer in reach. The latter will probably row the boat round! A tug at the end of a stroke turns a boat much more than a catch at the beginning; yet the latter propels the racing boat far more. Of course, if two men row alike in style and reach from end to end, and one puts on all through the stroke a trifle more pressure, the ship will turn from the greater pressure. But, unless it can be guaranteed that the style of each partner is identical all through the stroke, ‘rowing round’ does not prove a superiority of work.
Pair oars about to collidePAIR OARS—AN IMMINENT FOUL.
PAIR OARS—AN IMMINENT FOUL.
We have said that good watermen will sit a pair where bad ones will roll. So far so good. But good watermen, first beginning practice with each other, must not assume that because they do not roll their uniformity is therefore proved. Their power of balance can keep the boat upright, even though there may be at first some inaccuracies of work. Thus to balance a boat requires a certain amount of exertion; in a race, at this stage, this labour of balancing would take something off the power of the stroke. Besides, until the two oars work with similar pressure through the whole stroke, the keel cannot be travelling dead straight. Steady though good men may be at scratch, they will gain in pace as they continue to practise, and insensibly assimilate their action. With bad watermen cessation of rolling is a sign that the styles have at last assimilated; with good watermen the deduction is not necessarily sound.
In old days pair-oars rowed without rudders. The two oars guided the ship. It was best to let the stronger man steer. He could thus set his partner to do his best all the way in a race, could ease an over or two, or lay on that much extra, from stroke to stroke, according as the stern-post required balancing on the landmark which had been selected as itspoint d’appui. To learn each other’s strength and to know the course, to know by heart when to lay on for this corner, or to row off for that, was the study of practice and tested watermanship. In modern times a thin metal rudder is usually used, steered as in coxswainless fours. In a beam wind this materially aids pace, it enables the leeward oar to do his full share, instead of paddling while his partner is toiling. Even in still water it is some gain, provided the helm can be easily ‘trailed’ when not wanted. The facility with which such a pair can be steered tempts men to omit to study that delicate balance of a boat’s stern on its point which was the acme of art before rudders came in. We have seen a (rudderless) pair leave a wake up Henley reach, from island to point, on a glassy evening, as straight as if a surveyor’s line had been stretched there. In fact, to steer such a pair, with a practical partner,was, if anything, easier to some men than to steer an eight. The stern-post lay in view of the oarsman, and could be adjusted on its point like a gun barrel, whereas the actual bows of an eight are unseen by a coxswain.
Except a sculling boat, a pair-oar is the fastest starting of all craft; but if it is thus easy to set in motion at the outset of a race, it is plain that it can be spurted later on as suddenly. Bearing this in mind, there is no object in starting a pair in a race at a speed which cannot go all the way. There is as much scope for staying in a pair as in an eight; more in fact, for the pair takes the longer to do the same distance as the eight. The start should be quick, but it is best to keep a stroke or two per minute in hand for a rush hereafter, if needed, when the pulse of the enemy has been felt, and when partners have warmed to their work.
Pairs are best rowed with oars somewhat smaller all round than those which are used for eights or fours. The pair, more than any other craft, requires to be caught sharp and light; an oar that is not too long in the shank nor too big in the blade best accomplishes this. ‘Dimensions’ recommended for ‘work’ in various craft will be found scheduledelsewherein this volume.
To conclude the subject of pairs, it may be added, if partners wish to assimilate, they must make up their minds to avoid recrimination. If the boat goes amiss say, or assume, ‘it is I,’ not ‘you,’ who is to blame. Keep cool and keep your head in a race. If the steersman bids ‘easy’ half a stroke, be prompt in so doing. To delay to right the course at the correct instant may take the ship lengths out of her course. A stroke eased in time, like a stitch, often saves nine, and perhaps obviates sticking in the bank.
Three scullers too close togetherCLOSE QUARTERS.
CLOSE QUARTERS.
Sculling needs more precision and more watermanship than rowing. The strongest man only wastes his strength in sculling if he fails to obtain even work for each hand. A pair-oar requires more practice to bring it to perfection than any other boat manned by oars, but a sculler requires considerably more practice than any pair of oarsmen. Strength he must have in proportion to his weight, if he is to soar above mediocrity, but strength alone will not avail him unless he gets his hands well together.
His sculls will overlap more or less. It is practically immaterial which hand he rows uppermost; the upper hand has a trifle of advantage, and for this reason Oxonians, whose course isa left-hand one, usually scull left hand over. The first difficulty which an embryo sculler has to contend with is that of attaining uniform pressure with square body and square legs upon a pair of arms which are not uniformly placed. One arm has to give way to another to enable the hands to clear each other when they cross; and yet while they do this the blades which they control should be buried to a uniform depth. How to attain this give-and-take action of the arms is better shown by even a moderate performer in five minutes of practical illustration than by reams of book instruction.
The aspirant to sculling honours had better, when commencing to learn, take his first lesson in a gig. A wager boat will be too unsteady, and will retard his practice; ‘skiffs’ are usually to be obtained only as teach boats with work at sixes and sevens. A dingey buries too much on the stroke, and spoils style. The beginner should find a stiff pair of sculls, true made, and overlapping about the width of his hands. He should ask some proficient to examine and to try his sculls, and to tell him by the feel whether they are really a pair. The best makers of oars and sculls too often turn out sculls which are not ‘pairs,’ and when this is the case the action of him who uses them cannot be expected to be even on both sides of his frame. Having got suitable sculls, let the sculler arrange his stretcher just a shade shorter than he would have it for rowing. He can clear his knees with a shorter stretcher when sculling than when rowing, as he can easily see for himself. A stretcher should always be as short as is compatible with clearing the knees.
Whether or not the pupil is proficient in sliding, he had better keep a fixed seat while learning the rudiments of sculling; it will give him less to think about; he might unconsciously contract faults in sliding while fixing his mind elsewhere—in the direction of his new implements.
He should see that his rowlocks are roomy. In most gigs there is a want of room between thowl and stopper. A sculler requires a wider rowlock than an oarsman, because his scullgoes forward to an acuter angle than an oar, with the same reach of body. Nothing puts out a sculler’s hands more than a recoil of the scull from the stopper, for want of room to reach out. The sculler should examine whether his rowlocks are true; the sills of them should be horizontal, not inclined, and most of all not inclined from stern to bow; the latter defect will at once make him scull deep. Next, let him examine his thowl. This should be clean faced, not ‘grooved’ by the upper edge of the loom of oars which have been handled by operators who feather under water, and who thus force at the finish with the upper edge and not with the flat back of the loom. Half the hack gigs that are on hire will be found to have rowlocks so worn, grooved, and disfigured, that not the best sculler in the world can lay his strength out on them until he has filed them into shape. The thowl should show a flush surface, and rake just the smallest trifle aft, so as to hold the blade just a fraction of an angle less than a rectangle to the water, but this ‘rake’ should be very slight.
Having now got his tools correct, the workman will have no excuse for grumbling at them if he fails to do well. Let him begin by paddling gently and slowly. He had better not attempt to work hard. If he sees some other sculler shooting past him in a similar boat, he must sink all jealousy. Every motion which he makes in a stroke is now laying the foundation of habit and of mechanical action hereafter; hence he must give his whole mind to each stroke, and be content to go to work steadily and carefully. He must feel his feet against his stretcher, both legs pressing evenly. He must hold his sculls in his fingers (not his fists), and let the top joint of each thumb cap the scull. This is better than bringing the thumb under the scull; it gives the wrists more play, and tends to avoid cramp of the forearm. He must endeavour to do his main work with his body and legs, when he has laid hold of the water. He should keep his arms rigid, and lean well back. Just as he passes the perpendicular his hands will begin to cross each other. Whichever hand he prefers to row over, he shouldstick to. When the hands begin to cross, he should still try to keep the arms stiff, and to clear the way by slightly lowering one hand and raising the other. Not until his hands have opened out again after having crossed should he begin to bend his arms and to bring the stroke home to the chest. He should try to bend each arm simultaneously and to the same extent, and to bring each hand up to his breast almost at his ribs, at equal elevations. He must try to feather both sculls sharply and simultaneously.
If he finds any difficulty in this, he will do well to give himself a private lesson on this point before he proceeds further. He can sit still and lay his sculls in the rowlocks, and thus practise turning the wrists sharply, on and off the feather, till he begins to feel more handy in this motion.
On the recovery he should shoot his hands out briskly, the body following but not waiting for the hands to extend—just as in a ‘rowing’ recovery. When the recovering hands begin to cross each other the lower and upper must respectively give way, and so soon as they open out after the cross, they should once more resume the same plane, and extend equally, so as to be ready to grip the water simultaneously for the succeeding stroke.
Very few scullers realise the great importance of even action of wrists. If one scull hangs in the water a fraction of a second more than another, or buries deeper, or skims lighter, the two hands at that moment are not working evenly. Therefore the boat is not travelling in a straight line; therefore she will sooner or later, may be in the latter half of the very same stroke, have to be brought back to her course. In order to bring her back, the hand which, earlier, was doing the greater work, must now do less. Therefore the boat has not only performed a zigzag during the stroke, but also she has been, while so meandering, propelled by less than her full available forces, first one hand falling off through clumsiness, and afterwards the other hand shutting off some work, in order to equalise matters.
As the sculler becomes more used to his action, he will find his boat keep more even. At first he will be repeatedly putting more force on one hand than on another, and will have to rectify his course by counterwork with the neglected hand. Some scullers, though otherwise good, never steer well. They do not watch their stern-post, to see if they go evenly at each stroke; still less, if they see a slight deflection to one hand after one stroke, do they at once rectify the deviation by extra pressure on the other hand during the ensuing stroke. A good steerer in sculling will correct his course even to half a stroke; if through a bend, or a wave, or other cause, he sees one hand has taken the other a little round by the time that the sculls are crossing, he will row the other hand home a trifle sharper, and so bring the keel straight by the time he feathers. When a sculler gets more settled to his work, and has got over the first difficulty of clearing his hands at the crossing, he will begin to acquire the knack of bringing the boat round to one hand, without any distinct extra tug of that scull. He will press a trifle more with the one foot, and will throw a little more of his weight on to the one scull, and so produce the desired effect on his boat.
When a sculler promotes himself to a light boat, he must be very careful not to lose the knack of even turns of wrists which he has been so assiduously studying in his tub. In the wager boat, far more than in the tub, is the action of the sculler’s body affected and his labour crippled by any uneven action of either hand. The gig did not roll if one hand went into the water an infinitesimal fraction of a second sooner, or came out that much later than the other hand. But the fragile sculling boat, with no keel, and about thirteen inches of beam, resents these liberties, and requires ‘sitting’ in addition, whenever any inequality of work takes her off her balance. The sculler must especially guard against feathering under water. He is more tempted to do so now, while he is in an unsteady boat, than when he was in his sober-going gig. He feels instinctively that if he lets his blades rest flat on the water forthe instant, when his stroke concludes, he obtains for the moment a rectification of balance; the flat blades stop rolling to either side; when he has thus steadied his craft, then he can essay to lift his blades and to get forward. If he once yields to this insidious temptation, he runs the risk of spoiling himself as a sculler, and of ensuring that he will never rise beyond mediocrity. The hang back, and the sloppy feather, which are to be seen in so many second-class scullers, may almost invariably, if the history of the sculler be known, be traced to want of nerve and of confidence in early days to feather boldly, and to lift the sculls sharp from the water, regardless of rolling. Of course, for the nonce, the sculler can sit steadier, and therefore make more progress, if he thus steadies his craft with his blades momentarily flat; and it is because of this fact that so many beginners are seduced into the trick. But let the sculler pluck up courage, and endeavour to imagine himself still afloat in his gig. Let him turn his wrists as sharply as when he was in her, and lift his blades boldly out, not even caring if he rolls clean over. There really is little chance of his so capsizing. If he rolls, his one blade or other floats in the water, and being strung over at the rowlock, cannot well let his boat turn over, so long as he holds on to the handle. Meantime, he must sit tight to his boat, and use his feet to balance her with his body. He must not try to row too fast a stroke; a quick stroke hides faults, and speed tends to keep a light craft on an even keel so long as her crew are fresh; but style is not learned while oarsmen or scullers are straining their utmost. If the sculler finds that he really cannot make progress in his wager boat, he must assume that he wants another spell of practice in his tub, and must revert again to her for a week or two, or more. If he will only persevere in studying even and simultaneous action of hands, he will get his reward in time.
He should not be ambitious to race too soon. Many a young sculler spoils himself by aspiring to junior scullers’ races before he is ripe for racing. It is a temptation to have a ‘flutter,’ just to see how one gets on, but it is of no use to race unless the competitor has had some gallops beforehand; and it is in trying to row a fast stroke before they can thoroughly sit a boat that so many scullers sow seeds of bad style, which stick to them long afterwards, and perhaps always. When at last the sculler has learned to sit his boat, to drop his hands in simultaneously, to feel an even pressure with both blades, to see his stern-post hold on true, and not waver from side to side; when he is able to drop and turn both wrists at the same instant, to lift both blades clean away from the water, and to shoot out his hands without fouling either his knees or the water, then he has mastered more than half the scullers of the day—even though he can only perform thus for half-a-dozen strokes at a time without encountering a roll. He can now lay his weight well on his sculls, and can make his boat travel. He will have done well if all this time he has abstained from indulging in a slide; he does not need one as yet, he is not racing, and the fewer things he has to think about the better chance he has of being able to devote his attention to acquiring even hands and a tight seat. Once let him gain these accomplishments, and he can then take to his slide, and in his first race go by many an opponent who started sculling long before him, but who began at once in a wager boat and on a slide.
Swimming scullerA SPILL.
A SPILL.
A very good amateur sculler—J. E. Parker, winner of the Wingfield Sculls in 1863—used to say that he always went back until his sculls came out of the water of their own accord. As a piece of chaff, it used to be said of him, by his friends, that there was a greasy patch on his fore canvas, where his head came in contact with it at the end of his stroke. Of course this was only a jest, but undoubtedly Parker swung farther back than most scullers, perhaps more than any amateur. The secret of his pace, which was indisputable, as also his staying power, probably lay to a great extent in this long back swing of his. He also sculled exceedingly cleanly, his hands worked in perfect unison, and his blades came out clean and sharp. The writer cannot recall any sculler whose blades were so clean, save Hanlan and also W. S. Unwin in 1886. Much of the secret of each of these scullers lay in the evenness of their hands; they wasted no power. F. Playford, junior, was a more powerful sculler, and apparently faster than either of the above-named amateurs (ceteris paribusas to slides,quâParker); but taking his reach and weight into consideration, it is not to be wondered if Playford was in his day the best of all Wingfield winners. The late Mr. Casamajor was a great sculler. He also had a very long back swing, and clean blades. He never had such tough opponents to beat as had Playford, but at least it could be said of him that he was unbeaten in public in any race.
Steerage apparatus is in these days fitted to many a sculling boat. The writer, as an old stager, is bound to admit that he had retired from active work before such mechanism was used, he therefore cannot speak practically as to its value for racing. So far as he has watched its use by scullers, he is induced to look upon the contrivance with suspicion. On a stormy day, with beam wind for a considerable part of the course, such an appendage will undoubtedly assist a sculler. It will save him from having an arm almost idle in his lap during heavy squalls. But on fairly smooth days, or when wind is simply ahead, a rudder must surely detract more from pace (by reason of the water which it catches; even when simply on the trail) than itever will save by obviating the operation of rowing a boat round by the hand to direct her course. Again, the fittings which carry the rudder must, when the rudder is unshipped, hold a certain amount of water to the detriment of speed. Also, if a boat is pressed for a spurt, there must be some risk of the tiller of the rudder (however delicately made), and the wires which control it, pulling and drawing the water. When the canvas ducks under water on recovery, it is important that the water should run off freely when the boat springs to the stroke. If a post stands up at the stern, however thin and metallic, this must to some degree check the flow off of the water. Again, the feet must be moved to guide this rudder; while they are thus shifting, the fullest power of the legs can hardly be applied. A sculler who is in good practice, and who is at home with his boat and sculls, should be able to feel his boat’s course through each stroke, and to adjust her at any one stroke if she has deviated during the preceding one. On the whole, barring circumstances such as a stiff westerly wind at Henley, or a gale on the tideway course, scullers will do best without rudders; and if a competitor desires to provide against the contingency of weather which will make a rudder advantageous, he had better, if he can, have a spare boat fitted for that purpose, so that if the water after all is smooth he will not be carrying any projecting metal at his stern to draw the water and to check his pace.
There is another objection to the use of rudders, especially for young scullers. It tempts them to rely on the rudder to rectify their course, instead of studying even play of hands so that the boat may have no excuse for deviating at all in smooth water.
All that has been said of the use of slides applies equally to sculling as to rowing. The leg action, as compared to swing, should be just the same when sculling as in rowing. That is, the slide should last as long as the swing. Now, in sculling, a man should go back much further than he does when rowing an oar. When he has an oar in his hand there is a limit to the distance to which he can spring back with good effect. His oar describes an arc; when he has gone back beyond a certaindistance the butt of his oar-handle will come at the middle of his breast or even more inside the boat. In such a position he cannot finish squarely and with good effect. Therefore he cannot go backad lib. But the sculler is always placed evenly to his work, it is not on one side of him more than another. He should, when laying himself out for pace, swing back so far that his sculls come out just as his hands touch his ribs. In a wager boat, when well practised, he can afford to let his sculls overlap as much as six or even seven inches. But, after all, the extent of overlap is a matter of taste with so many scullers, that it would be unwise to lay down any hard and fast rule, beyond saying that at least the handles should overlap four inches, or, what is much the same, one hand should at least cover the other when the sculls lie in the rowlocks at right angles to the keel.
To return to the slide in sculling. Since the back swing should be longer in sculling than in rowing, and as there is a limit to the length which any pair of legs can slide, and since also it has been laid down as a rule that both when sculling and when rowing the slide should be economised so that it may last as long as the swing lasts, the reader will gather that the legs will have to extend more gradually when sliding to sculls than when sliding to oars. Therefore a man accustomed to row on slides, and whose legs are more or less habituated to a certain extension coupled with swing when rowing, must keep a watch upon himself when sculling lest his rowing habits should make him finish his slide prematurely, when he needs to prolong his swing for sculling. Unless his slide lasts out his swing, his finish, after legs have been extended, will only press the boat without propelling her.
In rowing an oarsman is guilty of fault if he meets or even pulls up to his oar. In sculling, with a very long swing back it is not a fault to commence the recovery of the body while the hands are still completing their journey home to the ribs. The body should not drop, nor slouch over the sculls while thus meeting them. It should recover with open chest and head well up, simply pulling itself up slightly, to start the back swing,by the handles of the sculls as they come home for the last three or four inches of their journey. Casamajor always recovered then, so did Hanlan, so did Parker, and any sculler who does likewise will sin (if he does sin in the opinion of some hypercritics of style) in first-class company. The fact is, this very long swing back (with straight arms) entails much recovery, and yet materially adds to pace. The sculler can afford to ease his recovery in return for the strain of his long stroke. Also lest his long swing should press the boat’s bows, he can ease her recovery as well as his own, so soon as the main force of the long drag comes to an end. In the writer’s opinion, unless a sculler really does go backà laCasamajor & Co. with straight arms and stiff back, and until his sculls come out of the water almost of their own accord as he brings his hands in, it is not an advantage for him to pull himself up to his handles to this trifling extent at the finish. A sculler who does not swing back further than when he is rowing, will do best to row his sculls home just as he would an oar.
In racing all men like a lead. If a sculler can take a lead with his longest stroke, swinging back as far as he can, and can feel that he is not doing a stroke too fast for his stamina, by all means let him do so; but let him be careful not to hurry his stroke and thereby to shorten his back swing simply for the sake of a lead. Many a long-swing sculler spoils his style, at all events for the moment, by sprinting and trying to cut his opponent down. It is almost best for him if he finds that his opponent has the pace of him, and if he therefore relapses to his proper style, and bides his time. If he does so, he will go all the faster over the course for sticking to his style regardless of momentary lead. Some scullers lay out their work for pace, regardless of lasting power. When Chambers rowed Green in 1863, he tried to head the Australian, flurried himself, shortened his giant reach, lost pace, and, after all, lost the lead. When he realised that, force pace as much as he could, Green was too speedy, the Tyne man settled to his long sweep, and at once went all the faster, though now sculling a slower stroke.It was not long before Green began to come back to him, and the result of that match is history.
Similarly, the writer recollects seeing the celebrated Casamajor win the Diamonds for the last time, in 1861. He was opposed by Messrs. G. R. Cox and E. D. Brickwood. Cox was a sculler who laid himself out for fast starting: he used very small blades, he did not swing further back than when rowing, and he sculled a very rapid stroke. He had led both Casamajor and H. Kelley in a friendly spin earlier in the year, and it was said that it was to vindicate his reputation as being still the best sculler of the day that the old unbeaten amateur once more entered for the Diamonds, where he knew he would encounter Cox in earnest, and no longer in play. (Casamajor was by no means in good health, and the grave closed over him in the following August.)
In the race in question Cox darted away with the lead. Casamajor had hitherto led all opponents in real racing, andamour propreseemed to prompt him to bid for the lead against the new flyer; he quickened and quickened his stroke, till his long swing back vanished, and his boat danced up and down, but he could not hold Cox. Brickwood was last, rowing his own style, and sculling longest of the three. After passing the Farm gate, Casamajor suddenly changed his style, and went back to his old swing. Maybe, Cox had already begun to come to the end of his tether; but, be that as it may, from the instant that Casamajor re-adopted his old swing back, he held Cox. (It did not look as if the pace was really falling off, for both the leaders were still drawing away from Brickwood.) In another minute Casamajor began to draw up to the leader, still swinging back as before. Then he went ahead, and all was over. Brickwood in the end rowed down Cox, and came in a good second. Casamajor at that time edited the ‘Field’ aquatics. His own description therein of himself in the race seems to imply that he realised how he had at first thrown away his speed by bidding for the lead, and that he purposely, and not unconsciously, changed his style about the end of the firstminute and a half of the race. His description of his own sculling at that juncture (modestly penned) was ‘now rowing longer and with all his power.’ This was quite true—he was not using his full power until he relapsed to his old style. These illustrations of two of the best scullers ever seen bidding for impossible leads, and then realising their mistakes in time, may be taken to heart by all modern and future aspirants to sculling honour.
Sculling race with piloting eight-oarsSCULLING RACE, WITH PILOTS IN EIGHT-OARS.
SCULLING RACE, WITH PILOTS IN EIGHT-OARS.
Another reason why scullers like a lead is that it saves them from being ‘washed’ by a leader, and, conversely, enables them to ‘wash an opponent.’ In old days of boat-racing under the old code, lead was of importance, to save water being taken. Under new rules of boat-racing (which figure elsewhere in this volume), water can only be taken at peril. There is not, therefore, so much importance in lead as of old. As to ‘wash,’ if a man can sit a sculling boat, he does not care much for wash. Anyhow, he can, if in his own water, and if hisadversary crosses him, steer exactly in his leader’s wake; the wash then spreads like a swallow’s tail on either side of the sternmost man, and does not affect him. His opponent must get out of his way, if not overtaken, so he need not disturb himself; and if the leader insists on steering to right or left simply to direct the wash, he loses more ground by this meandering than even the pursuer will lose by the slight perturbations of a sculling boat’s wash for a few strokes. It is good practice for any sculler to take his boat now and then in the wake of another sculler, and try to ‘bump’ him. It will teach him how to sit his boat under such circumstances, and he will be surprised before long to find out how little he cares for being washed by another sculler.
A sculler, when practising over a course, especially when water is smooth, may with advantage time himself from day to day at various points of the course. He will thus find out what his best pace is, and will ascertain whether his speed materially falls off towards the end, if he forces extra pace at the start or halfway or so on. He must be careful to judgeproportionatelyof times and distances, and not positively; for streams may vary, and so may wind.
On the tideway in sculling matches, it is usual for pilots to conduct scullers. The pilot sits in the bow of an eight. The sculler may rely on the pilot to signal to him whether he is in the required direction; but when he once knows that his boat points right, he should note where her stern points, just as if he were steering upon his own resources, and should endeavour so to regulate his hands that his stern keeps straight, as shown by some distant landmark which he selects. This straight line he should then maintain to the best of his ability, bringing his stern-post back to it, if it deflects, until his pilot again signals to him to change his course, for rounding some curve or for clearing some obstacle. The pilot cannot inform his charge of each small inaccuracy which leads eventually to deflection from the correct line; this the sculler must provide against on his own account. It is only when the course has tobe changed, or when the sculler has palpably gone out of his course, that the signals of the pilot come into play. Some scullers seem to make up their minds to leave everything to their pilots; the result is that their boats are never in a straight line; first they go astray to one side, and then, when signalled back, they take a stroll to the other side. Such scullers naturally handicap themselves greatly by thus losing ground through these tortuous wanderings. The simplest method of signalling by pilot is to hold a white handkerchief. In the right or left hand it means ‘pull right or left,’ respectively. When down, it means ‘boat straight and keep it so.’ If the pilot gets far astern, or if dangers are ahead which are beyond pilotage, taking off the hat means ‘look out for yourself.’
Exhausted scullerPUMPED OUT.
PUMPED OUT.
When wind is abeam, a pilot cutter can materially aid a sculler by bringing its bow close on his windward quarter, thereby sheltering his stern from the action of the wind. Races such as that of Messrs. Lowndes and Payne for the Wingfield Sculls in 1880, when Mr. Payne did not row his opponent down until the last mile had well begun, should remind all scullers that a race is never lost till it is won, and that, however beaten you may feel, it is possible that your opponent feels even worse, and that he may show it in the next few strokes.
Thames wherryTHE LAST OF THE THAMES WHERRIES.
THE LAST OF THE THAMES WHERRIES.
The ‘trim built wherry’ of song has been improved off the face of the Thames. Originally it was purely a passenger craft: it contained space for two or more sitters in the stern, and was fitted for two pair of sculls or a pair of oars at option. Larger wherries were also built, ‘randan’ rig (for a pair of oars with a sculler amidships, or three pairs of sculls at option). Such boats were the passenger craft of the silent highway before steamers destroyed the watermen’s trade. When match racing came into vogue, wherries began to be constructed for purely racing purposes; they had but one seat, for the sculler, and were carried as fine as they could be, at either end, with regard to the surf which they often had to encounter. Their beam on the waterline was reduced to a minimum; but at the same time it was necessary, for mechanical purposes, that the gunwale, at the points where the rowlocks were placed, should be of sufficientwidth to enable the sculler to obtain the necessary leverage and elevation of his sculls. The gunwale was accordingly flared out wide at these points, above the waterline. This flared gunwale had nothing to do with the flotation of the boat; it was in effect nothing more than a wooden outrigger, and it was this which eventually suggested to the brain of old Harry Clasper the idea of constructing an iron outrigger, thereby enabling the beam to be reduced, and at the same time the sculling leverage to be preserved without the encumbrance of the top hamper of these flared gunwales. Such was the old wager wherry, and its later development of the wager outrigger.
We have said that the wherry is obsolete. Modern watermen use, for passenger purposes, a craft called a ‘skiff.’ She is an improvement on the ‘gig,’ a vessel which came into vogue on the Thames for amateur pleasure purposes about the year 1830. The ‘gig’ was originally adopted from naval ideas. She had a flush gunwale, and the rowlocks were placed on the top of it. So soon as the outrigger came in, oarsmen realised the advantage to be gained by applying it to the gig, in a modified form. Half-outrigged gigs became common; they had a reduced beam, and commanded more speed; they were used for cruising purposes as well as for racing. Many regattas offered prizes for pair oars with coxswains in outrigged gigs. Theoretically a gig was supposed to be ‘clinker’ built, i.e. each of her timbers were so attached to each other that the lower edge of each upper timber overlapped the upper edge of the timber below it, the timbers being ‘clincked,’ hence the name. ‘Carvel’ (or caravel) build is that in which the timbers lie flush to each other, presenting a smooth surface. This offers less resistance, and before long builders constructed so-called ‘gigs’ for racing purposes, which were carvel built. From this it was but a step to build racing gigs with but two or even one ‘streak’ only, i.e. the side of the hull, instead of being constructed of several planks fastened together, was made of one, or at most two planks. The ends of the vessel were open—uncanvassed, and in this respect only was there anything in common with a‘gig’ proper. This system of stealing advantages by tricks of build caused gig races to be fruitful sources of squabbles, until regatta committees recognised the importance of laying down conditions as to build when advertising their races.
To return to gigs proper. This craft did not find the same favour fifty years ago with the professional classes that it did with amateurs. The wherry was still adhered to for traffic; but meantime Thames fishermen, especially those who plied flounder fishery on the upper tideway, used what is called a skiff; a shorter boat, with as much beam as the largest wherry, a bluff bow, and flared rowlocks. She was strongly built, adapted to carry heavy burdens, and, by reason of being shorter, was easier to turn, and handier for short cruises. A similar class of boat, but often rougher and more provincial in construction, was to be found in use at some of the up-river ferries. The wherry, when once under way, had more speed than the skiff, but when long row-boat voyages ceased in consequence of the introduction of steamers, the advantage of the skiff over the wherry was recognised by watermen. Their jobs came down to ferrying, to taking passengers on board vessels lying in the stream, and such like work; and for these services speed was not so important as handiness in turning.
During the last fifteen years the skiff build has found more favour for pleasure purposes than the gig. The outrigged gig is liable to entanglement of rowlock in locks, and where craft are crowded, as at regattas. (It would be a salutary matter if the Thames Conservancy would peremptorily forbid the presence of any such craft at Henley Regatta.) Inrigged craft glide off each other when gunwales collide, whereas outriggers foul rowlocks of other boats, and cause delay and even accidents. An outrigged gig has two alternative disadvantages, compared to the skiff build; if she is as narrow at the waterline as the skiff, her flush gunwale reduces the leverage for oar or scull. If, on the other hand, she is built to afford full leverage, this entails more beam on the waterline than in a skiff, the rowlocks of which are raised and flared above thegunwale. Hence it is that the skiff build is gradually superseding the once universally popular gig.
A dingey is a short craft, originally designed as a sort of tender to a yacht, but adopted for pleasure purposes on the Thames for nearly half a century. It is sometimes built with a flush gunwale like a gig, but more commonly with flared rowlocks like a skiff, thereby affording the required leverage for swells, while at the same time reducing the beam on the waterline.
Besides the above mentioned craft, which are designed to carry at least two oarsmen (or scullers) and a coxswain, modern boat-builders construct what are called sculling dingies and gigs, which are fitted with only one pair of rowlocks, and are intended mainly for occupation by a single sculler, though they will at a pinch carry sitters both in the stern sheets and in the bows. They also build sailing gigs and dingies, which are usually fitted with a ‘centreboard,’ and are of greater beam than those specially designed for rowing or sculling; though they can be also propelled by oars or sculls when required, they are less handy for the latter purposes, in consequence of their construction for the double duties of both sailing and oarsmanship. The following are dimensions commonly adopted by builders, such as Messrs. Salter of Oxford, for various classes of gigs, dingies, and pleasure skiffs:—
The variations in beam being in such vessels designed conversely as regards the lengths, in order to obtain approximate equivalent of displacement—
Where the beam ranges as high as 5 feet the vessel will carry about four sitters in the stern. The narrower craft carry about two, sitting abreast in the stern.
Dingies (inrigged) range from about 12 feet in length with 4 feet beam to 16 feet in length with about 3 ft. 6 in. beam.
Some dingies are built as short as 9 feet, but they command but little speed, and are useful only as tenders to larger vessels for the purpose of going ashore, &c. Their shortness makes them handy to turn, and compensates in short journeys for their want of speed.
The prices of the various builds enumerated above depend much upon the materials used, whether oak, mahogany, cedar, or pine; and also upon length of keel, and upon fittings, such as oars, sculls, cushions, stern-rails, &c., masts and sails. Figures vary from about 40l.for a best quality randan skiff, all found, to as low as 20l.for a gig, and 12l.for a dingey, turned out new from the builder’s yard.
It is customary to fit all rowing boats such as above described with a hole in the bow seat, and also in the flooring below, in order to carry a lug or sprit sail when required; but the shallow draught of such vessels as are not fitted with centreboards causes them to make a good deal of leeway and so disables them from sailing near the wind.
Racing boats are generally built of cedar, sometimes of white pine. The history of the introduction of the various improvements of outriggers, keelless boats, and sliding seats, has been given in other chapters. We propose here simply to give a few samples of dimensions of racing boats.
Various builders have various lines, and no exact fixed scale can be laid down as correct more than another.
Dimensions of a sculling-boatrecently used by Bubear in a sculling matchfor the ‘Sportsman Challenge Cup,’built by Jack Clasper.
Historical Eight-oars (Keelless).