[2]The breadth of beam of an ordinary in-rigged fixed-seat gig for the use of novices may be stated at 3 ft. 10 in. A line drawn horizontally across the boat, at right angles from the rowing thole, would be from 11½ in. to 12 in. distant from the aft, or sitting edge of the thwart. Oars should measure 12 ft. over all, with an in-board length of 3 ft. 5 in. to 3 ft. 5½ in. Breadth of blades 5½ in. to 5¾, not more.
[2]The breadth of beam of an ordinary in-rigged fixed-seat gig for the use of novices may be stated at 3 ft. 10 in. A line drawn horizontally across the boat, at right angles from the rowing thole, would be from 11½ in. to 12 in. distant from the aft, or sitting edge of the thwart. Oars should measure 12 ft. over all, with an in-board length of 3 ft. 5 in. to 3 ft. 5½ in. Breadth of blades 5½ in. to 5¾, not more.
(1) Sit erect on the aft edge of your seat, exactly opposite the point at which your heels touch the stretcher. The feet must be placed firm and flat upon the stretcher, the heels touching one another, and forming an angle of about forty-five degrees. The knees must be bent to about one-third of their scope, and set a shoulder's breadth apart. Shoulders must be well set back, the chest open, and the stomach well set out.
(2) Now swing your body slowly forward as far as you are ablefrom the hips, without bending the back, being careful to let your head swing with your body. Repeat this movement several times without holding the oar.
(Note.—The ideal swing is that which takes the whole unbending body full forward till it is down between the knees. This, to a novice, is impossible, and the coach must therefore be content to see thefirst efforts at swing very short. It is better that this should be so than that a man should prematurely attain length by bending his back, doubling in his stomach, and over-reaching with his shoulders, faults that, once acquired, it is extremely difficult to eradicate.)
The swing must be slow and balanced, for "the time occupied in coming forward should be the body's rest, when the easy, measured swing, erect head, braced shoulders, and open chest, enable heart and lungs to work freely and easily, in preparation for a defined beginning of the next stroke."[3]
[3]From an article by Mr. S. Le Blanc Smith.
[3]From an article by Mr. S. Le Blanc Smith.
(3) Take hold of your oar, the fingers passing round it, thumbs underneath, and the hands one hand's-breadth apart. The grip on the oar should be a finger-grip, not the vice-like hold that cramps all the muscles of the arm. It is important, too, to remember that, while the arms are presumably of the same length, the outside hand (i.e.the hand at the end of the oar) has, during stroke and swing forward, to pass through a larger arc than the inside hand. The inside wrist should, therefore, be slightly arched even at the beginning of the stroke, thus shortening the inside arm, but withoutimpairing its use during the stroke. This arch, too, will give the inside hand a greater leverage and ease for performing the work of feathering, which devolves mainly upon it.
(4) Draw your oar-handle slowly in till the roots of the thumbs touch the chest, the elbows passing close to the sides, and the body maintaining the erect position described above ininstruction (1), but slightly inclined beyond the perpendicular. I assume that the blade of the oar is covered in the water in the position it would have at the finish of a stroke.
(5) Drop your hands; in fact, not merely the hands, but the forearms and hands together. This movement will take the oar clean and square out of the water.
(6) Turn your wrists, more particularly the inside wrist, with a quick sharp turn. This movement will feather the oar.
(7) Without attempting to move your body, shoot your hands sharply out to the full extent of your arms, taking care to keep the blade of the oar well clear of the water. Repeat these last three movements several times, at first separately, then in combination.
(Note.—These three movements are sometimes spoken of incorrectly as the finish of the stroke. Properly speaking, however, the finish, as distinguished from the beginning, is that part of the stroke which is rowed through the water from the moment the arms begin to bend until the hands come in to the chest. The movements I have described are in reality part of the recovery,i.e.they are the movements necessary to enable the oarsman's body to recover itself after the strain of one stroke, and to prepare for the next. Smartly performed, as they ought to be, they have all the appearance of one quick motion. As to the dropping of the hands, the novice must practise this so as to get his oar square and clean out of the water. It is, however, necessary to guard against exaggerating it into the pump-handle or coffee-grinding style, which merely wastes energy and time. Later on, when an oarsman is rowing in a light racing ship, a very slight pressure will enable him to release his oar, the movement and elasticity of the boat helping him.)
(8) You have now taken the blade out of the water, feathered it, and have shot your hands away, the blade still on the feather, to a point beyond theknees. In so doing you will have released your body, which you must now swing forward slowly and at a perfectly even pace, in a solid column from the hips, as described ininstruction 2.
(9) Obviously, if you keep your arms stiff in the shoulder-sockets, you will eventually, as your body swings down, force your hands against the stretcher, or into the bottom of the boat, with the blade of the oar soaring to the level of your head. To avoid this windmill performance let your hands, especially the inside hand, rest lightly on the oar-handle, and as the body swings down let the hands gradually rise,i.e.let the angle that the arms make with the body increase. You will thus, by the time you have finished your swing, have brought the blade close to the water, in readiness to grip the beginning without the loss of a fraction of a second.
(10) During the foregoing manœuvre keep your arms absolutely straight from shoulder to wrist. Many oarsmen, knowing that they have to get hold of the beginning, cramp their arm-muscles and bend their elbows as they swing forward, the strain giving them a fictitious feeling of strength. But this is a pure delusion, and can only result in waste, both of energy and of time.
(11) As you swing, use the inside arm and hand to shove against the oar. You will thus keep the button of the oar pressed up against the rowlock, a position it ought never even for a moment to lose; you will help to steady your swing, and you will go far towards keeping both shoulders square. Most novices and many veterans over-reach badly with the outside shoulder.
(12) While you are carrying out the last four instructions, your feet, save for a slight pressure against the straps during the very first part of the recovery (see instruction 23), must remain firmly planted, heel and toe, against your stretcher. During your swing you should have a distinct sense of balancing with the ball of your foot against the stretcher. This resistance of the feet on the stretcher helps to prevent you from tumbling forward in a helpless, huddled mass as you reach the limit of your forward swing.
(13) As to taking the oar off the feather. Good oars vary considerably on this point. Some carry the blade back feathered the whole way, and only turn it square just in time to get the beginning of the stroke. Others turn it off the feather about half-way through, just before the hands come overthe stretcher. For a novice, I certainly recommend the latter method. Turn your wrists up and square your blade very soon after the hands have cleared the knees. It will thus be easier for you to keep your button pressed against the rowlock; your hands can balance the oar better, and you will not run the risk, to which the former method renders you liable, of skying or cocking your blade just when it ought to be nearest the water, so as to catch the beginning. A good and experienced waterman, however, ought certainly to be able to keep his oar on the feather against a high wind until the last available moment. The movement of returning the blade to the square position ought to be firm and clean.
(14) As the body swings, your hands ought to be at the same time stretching and reaching out as if constantly striving to touch something which is as constantly evading them.
(15) When you are full forward, the blade of your oar should not be quite at a right angle to the water, but the top of it ought to be very slightly inclined over,i.e.towards the stern of the boat. A blade thus held will grip the water cleaner, firmer, and with far less back-splash thana blade held absolutely at right angles. Besides, you will obviate the danger of "slicing" into the water and rowing too deep. At the same time, I am bound to admit that I know only a few oars who adopt this plan. One of them, however, is the present President of the Oxford University Boat Club, Mr. C. K. Philips, as good a waterman as ever sat in a boat. I am quite firmly convinced that the plan is a sound one, and I believe if it were more generally followed, we should see far less of that uncomfortable and unsightly habit of back-splashing, which is too often seen even in good crews.
(16) I have now brought you forward to the full extent of your swing and reach. Your back is (or ought to be) straight, your shoulders are firm and braced, your chest and stomach still open, though your body is down somewhere between your open knees. Your hands have been gradually rising, and your oar-blade is, therefore, close to the water. Now raise your hands a little more, not so as to splash the blade helplessly to the bottom of the river, but with a quick movement as though they were passing round a cylinder. When they get to the top of the cylinder the blade will be coveredin the water. At the same moment, and without the loss of a fraction of a second, swing the body and shoulders back as though they were released from a spring, the arms remaining perfectly straight, and the feet helping by a sharp and vigorous pressure (from the ball of the foot, and the toes especially) against the stretcher. The result of these rapid combined movements will be that the blade, as it immerses itself in the water, will strike it with an irresistible force (a sort of crunch, as when you grind your heel into gravel), created by the whole weight-power of the body applied through the straight lines of the arms, and aided by all the strength of which the legs are capable. This, technically speaking, is the beginning of the stroke. The outside hand should have a good grip of the oar.
(17) Swing back, as I said, with arms straight. The novice must, especially if he has muscular arms, root in his head the idea that the arms are during a great part of the stroke connecting rods, and that it is futile to endeavour to use them independently of the body-weight, which is the real driving power.
(18) Just before the body attains the limit of itsback-swing, which should be at a point a little beyond the perpendicular, begin to bend your arms for the finish of the stroke, and bring the hands square home until the roots of the thumbs touch the chest about three inches below the separation of the ribs. Here you must be careful not to raise or depress the hands. They should sweep in to the chest in an even plane, the outside hand drawing the handle firmly home without lugging or jerking. As the hands come in, the body finishes its swing, the elbows pass close to the sides, pointing downwards, and the shoulders are rowed back and kept down. The chest must be open, but not unduly inflated at the expense of the stomach, the head erect, and the whole body carrying itself easily, gracefully, and without unnecessary stiffness.
(19) Do not meet your oar,i.e.keep your body back until the hands have come in. If you pull yourself forward to meet your oar, you will certainly shorten the stroke, tire yourself prematurely, and will probably fail to get the oar clean out of the water or to clear your knees on the recovery.
(20) Do not try to force down your legs and flatten the knees as if you were rowing on a sliding seat. The mere movement of the body on theback swing and the kick off the stretcher will cause a certain alteration in the bend of the knees, but this tendency should not be consciously increased. Remember that fixed-seat rowing is not now an end in itself. It is a stage towards skilled rowing on sliding seats, and its chief object is to give the novice practice in certain essential elements of the stroke, and particularly in body-swing, which could not be so easily taught, if at all, if he were to begin at once on sliding seats. Swing is still, as it always has been, all important in good rowing, and if a novice attempts to slide (for that is what it comes to) on fixed seats he will begin to shuffle and lose swing entirely.
(21) Do not let your body settle down or fall away from your oar at the finish. Sit erect on your bones, and do not sink back on to your tail. The bones are the pivot on which you should swing.
(22) The blade of the oar, having been fully covered at the very beginning of the stroke, must remain fully covered up to the moment that the hands are dropped. If the oarsman, when he bends his arms during the stroke, begins to depress his hands, he will row light,i.e.the blade will bepartially uncovered, and will naturally lose power. On the other hand, if he raises his hands unduly, he will cover more than the blade, and will find great difficulty in extracting it from the water properly. The outside hand should control the balance of the oar, and keep it at its proper level.
(23) As to the use of the stretcher-straps. Many coaches imagine that when they have said, "Do not pull yourself forward by your toes against the straps," they have exhausted all that is to be said on the matter. I venture, with all deference, to differ from them. I agree that in the earlier stages of instruction it is very useful to make men occasionally row in tub-pairs without any straps, so as to force them to develop and strengthen the muscles of stomach and legs, which ought to do the main work of the recovery. But later on, when a man is rowing in an eight, and is striving, according to the instructions of his coach, to swing his body well and freely back, he can no more recover properly without a slight toe-pressure against the straps—the heels, however, remaining firm—than he could make bricks without straw. The straps, in fact, are a most valuable aid to the recovery. Take them away from a crew and youwill see one of two things: either the men will never swing nearly even to the upright position, and will recover with toil and trouble, or, if they swing back properly, they will all fall over backwards with their feet in the air. This slight strap-pressure just helps them over the difficult part of the recovery; as the body swings forward the feet immediately resume their balance against the stretcher. Indeed, if these movements are properly performed, you get a very pretty play of the toes and the ball of the foot against the stretcher, you counteract the tendency of the body to tumble forward, and you materially help the beginning from that part of the foot in which the spring resides. Totally to forbid men to use their straps seems to me a piece of pedantry. On this point I may fortify myself with the opinion of Mr. W. B. Woodgate, as given in his "Badminton Book on Boating." I am glad, too, to find that Mr. S. Le Blanc Smith, of the London Rowing Club, a most finished and beautiful oarsman, whose record of victories at Henley is a sufficient testimony to his knowledge and skill, agrees with me. In an article published during a recent rowing controversy, he remarks, "I think Mr. —— willfind that all men, consciously or unconsciously, use the foot-strap more or less, to aid them in the first inch or two of recovery. If he doubts this, let him remove the strap and watch results, be the oarsman who he may." I need only add that this pressure should never be greater than will just suffice to help the body-recovery. If exaggerated, its result on slides will be to spoil swing by pulling the slide forward in advance of the body.
I have now, I think, taken you through all the complicated movements of the stroke, and there for the present I must leave you to carry out as best you can instructions which I have endeavoured to make as clear on paper as the difficulties of the subject permit. But I may be allowed to add a warning. Book-reading may be a help; but rowing, like any other exercise, can only be properly learnt by constant and patient practice in boats under the eyes of competent instructors. Do not be discouraged because your improvement is slow, and because you are continually being rated for the same faults. With a slight amount of intelligence and a large amount of perseverance and good temper, these faults will graduallydisappear, and as your limbs and muscles accustom themselves to the work, you will be moulded into the form of a skilled oarsman. Even the dread being who may be coaching you—winner of the Grand Challenge Cup or stroke-oar of his University though he be—had his crude and shapeless beginnings. He has passed through the mill, and now is great and glorious. But if you imagine that even he is faultless, just watch him as he rows, and listen to the remarks that a fearless and uncompromising coach permits himself to address to him. And to show you that others have suffered and misunderstood and have been misunderstood like yourself, I will wind up this chapter with "The Wail of the Tubbed," the lyrical complaint of some Cambridge rowing Freshmen.
"Sir,—We feel we are intruding, but we deprecate your blame,We may plead our youth and innocence as giving us a claim;We should blindly grope unaided in our efforts to do right,So we look to you with confidence to make our darkness light."We are Freshmen—rowing Freshmen; we have joined our college club,And are getting quite accustomed to our daily dose of tub;We have all of us bought uniforms, white, brown, or blue, or red,We talk rowing shop the livelong day, and dream of it in bed."We sit upon our lexicons as 'Happy as a King'(We refer you to the picture), and we practise how to swing;We go every day to chapel, we are never, never late,And we exercise our backs when there, and always keep them straight."We shoot our hands away—on land—as quick as any ball:Balls always shoot, they tell us, when rebounding from a wall.We decline the noun 'a bucket,' and should deem it—well, a bore,If we 'met,' when mainly occupied in oarsmanship, our oar."But still there are a few things that our verdant little band,Though we use our best endeavours, cannot fully understand.So forgive us if we ask you, sir—we're dull, perhaps, but keen—To explain these solemn mysteries and tell us what they mean."For instance, we have heard a coach say, "Five, you're very rank;Mind those eyes of yours, they're straying, always straying, on the bank.'We are not prone to wonder, but we looked with some surpriseAt the owner of those strangely circumambulating eyes."There's a stroke who 'slices awfully,' and learns without remorseThat his crew are all to pieces at the finish of the course;There's A., who 'chucks his head about,' and B., who 'twists and screws,'Like an animated gimlet in a pair of shorts and shoes."And C. is 'all beginning,' so remark his candid friends;It must wear him out in time, we think, this stroke that never ends.And though D. has no beginning, yet his finish is A1;How can that possess a finish which has never been begun?"And E. apparently would be an oar beyond compare,If the air were only water and the water only air.And F., whose style is lofty, doubtless has his reasons whyHe should wish to scrape the judgment seat, when rowing, from the sky."Then G. is far too neat for work, and H. is far too rough;There's J., who lugs, they say, too much, and K. not half enough;There's L., who's never fairly done, and M., who's done too brown,And N., who can't stand training, and poor O., who can't sit down."And P. is much too limp to last; there's Q. too stiffly starched;And R., poor fool, whose inside wrist is never 'nicely arched.'And, oh, sir, if you pity us, pray tell us, if you please,What is meant by 'keep your button up,' and 'flatten down your knees.'"If an oar may be described as 'he,' there's no death half so grimAs the death like which we hang on with our outside hands to 'him;'But in spite of all our efforts, we have never grasped, have you?Hownotto use 'those arms' of ours, and yet to pull it through."S. 'never pulled his shoestrings.' If a man must pull at all,Why uselessly pull shoestrings? Such a task would surely pall.But T.'s offence is worse than that, he'll never get his Blue,He thinks rowing is a pastime—well, we own we thought so too."Then V.'s 'a shocking sugarer,' how bitter to be that!X. flourishes his oar about as if it were a bat;And Y. should be provided, we imagine, with a spade,Since he always 'digs,' instead of 'merely covering his blade.'"Lastly, Z.'s a 'real old corker,' who will never learn to work,For he puts his oar in gently and extracts it with a jerk.Oh! never has there been, we trow, since wickedness began,Such a mass of imperfections as the perfect rowing man.
"Sir,—We feel we are intruding, but we deprecate your blame,We may plead our youth and innocence as giving us a claim;We should blindly grope unaided in our efforts to do right,So we look to you with confidence to make our darkness light.
"We are Freshmen—rowing Freshmen; we have joined our college club,And are getting quite accustomed to our daily dose of tub;We have all of us bought uniforms, white, brown, or blue, or red,We talk rowing shop the livelong day, and dream of it in bed.
"We sit upon our lexicons as 'Happy as a King'(We refer you to the picture), and we practise how to swing;We go every day to chapel, we are never, never late,And we exercise our backs when there, and always keep them straight.
"We shoot our hands away—on land—as quick as any ball:Balls always shoot, they tell us, when rebounding from a wall.We decline the noun 'a bucket,' and should deem it—well, a bore,If we 'met,' when mainly occupied in oarsmanship, our oar.
"But still there are a few things that our verdant little band,Though we use our best endeavours, cannot fully understand.So forgive us if we ask you, sir—we're dull, perhaps, but keen—To explain these solemn mysteries and tell us what they mean.
"For instance, we have heard a coach say, "Five, you're very rank;Mind those eyes of yours, they're straying, always straying, on the bank.'We are not prone to wonder, but we looked with some surpriseAt the owner of those strangely circumambulating eyes.
"There's a stroke who 'slices awfully,' and learns without remorseThat his crew are all to pieces at the finish of the course;There's A., who 'chucks his head about,' and B., who 'twists and screws,'Like an animated gimlet in a pair of shorts and shoes.
"And C. is 'all beginning,' so remark his candid friends;It must wear him out in time, we think, this stroke that never ends.And though D. has no beginning, yet his finish is A1;How can that possess a finish which has never been begun?
"And E. apparently would be an oar beyond compare,If the air were only water and the water only air.And F., whose style is lofty, doubtless has his reasons whyHe should wish to scrape the judgment seat, when rowing, from the sky.
"Then G. is far too neat for work, and H. is far too rough;There's J., who lugs, they say, too much, and K. not half enough;There's L., who's never fairly done, and M., who's done too brown,And N., who can't stand training, and poor O., who can't sit down.
"And P. is much too limp to last; there's Q. too stiffly starched;And R., poor fool, whose inside wrist is never 'nicely arched.'And, oh, sir, if you pity us, pray tell us, if you please,What is meant by 'keep your button up,' and 'flatten down your knees.'
"If an oar may be described as 'he,' there's no death half so grimAs the death like which we hang on with our outside hands to 'him;'But in spite of all our efforts, we have never grasped, have you?Hownotto use 'those arms' of ours, and yet to pull it through.
"S. 'never pulled his shoestrings.' If a man must pull at all,Why uselessly pull shoestrings? Such a task would surely pall.But T.'s offence is worse than that, he'll never get his Blue,He thinks rowing is a pastime—well, we own we thought so too.
"Then V.'s 'a shocking sugarer,' how bitter to be that!X. flourishes his oar about as if it were a bat;And Y. should be provided, we imagine, with a spade,Since he always 'digs,' instead of 'merely covering his blade.'
"Lastly, Z.'s a 'real old corker,' who will never learn to work,For he puts his oar in gently and extracts it with a jerk.Oh! never has there been, we trow, since wickedness began,Such a mass of imperfections as the perfect rowing man.
P.S. by Two Cynics.
"So they coach us and reproach us (like a flock of silly jaysTaught by parrots how to feather) through these dull October days.We shall never understand them, so we shouldn't care a dam[4]If they all were sunk in silence at the bottom of the Cam."
"So they coach us and reproach us (like a flock of silly jaysTaught by parrots how to feather) through these dull October days.We shall never understand them, so we shouldn't care a dam[4]If they all were sunk in silence at the bottom of the Cam."
[4]Dam—an Oriental coin of small value.
[4]Dam—an Oriental coin of small value.
FIXED SEATS.No. 1.—position at beginning of stroke.(This is a stationary photograph. In the movement of the swing the body will come still further down.)
FIXED SEATS.No. 2.—position just after catching, beginning.(Instantaneous Photograph.)
FIXED SEATS.No. 3.—position half-way through stroke.(Stationary Photograph.)
FIXED SEATS.No. 4.—position as arms are bending for finish.(Instantaneous Photograph.)
FIXED SEATS.No. 5.—THE FINISH.(Stationary Photograph. In movement the body would go a little further back.)
Let me assume (I am still addressing my imaginary novice) that you have passed through the first few stages of your novitiate. If you are an Oxford or a Cambridge freshman you will have been carefully drilled in a tub-pair, promoted later to a freshmen's four or eight, and during the next term may have been included in the Torpid or Lent-Boat of your College. At any rate, I am assuming that you have by now rowed in a race or a series of races for eight-oared crews on fixed seats. But I prefer to leave the general subject of combined rowing, whether in eights or fours, to a later chapter, while I attempt to explain the mysteries and difficulties of the sliding seat.
The slide may be described as a contrivance for increasing the length of the stroke (i.e.of the period during which, the oar-blade remaining covered inthe water, power is applied to the propulsion of the boat), and for giving greater effect to the driving force of the oarsman's legs. Long before the actual sliding seat had been invented professional oarsmen and scullers had discovered that if they slid on their fixed thwarts they increased the pace of their boats, and even amongst amateurs this practice was not unknown. Mr. R. H. Labat has told me that so far back as 1870 he and his colleagues fitted their rowing trousers with leather, greased their thwarts, and so slid on them. In 1872 slides were used at Henley Regatta, and in 1873 the Oxford and Cambridge crews for the first time rowed their race on slides, Cambridge winning in 19 mins. 35 secs., which remained as record time until 1892. This performance, though it was undoubtedly helped by good conditions of tide and wind, served to establish slides firmly in popular favour, and from that time onwards fixed seats were practically retained only for the coaching of novices and, in eights, for the Torpids and Lent Races at Oxford and Cambridge. Now, proceeding on the principle that rowing is meant to be an exercise of grace, symmetry, and skill, as well as of strength and endurance, I think Imay lay it down as an essential rule that it is necessary on slides to observe those instructions which made fixed-seat rowing in the old days a pleasure to the eye. In the very early days of slides, while men were still groping for correct principles, this important axiom was too often neglected. It was imagined that swing was no longer necessary, and accordingly the rivers were filled with contorted oarsmen shuffling and tumbling and screwing on their slides. Veteran oars and coaches, to whom "form" was as the apple of their eye, were horror-struck, and gave vent to loud lamentations, utterly condemning this horrible innovation, which, as they thought, had reduced oarsmanship to the level of a rough and tumble fight. "If both Universities," wrote the Rev. A. T. W. Shadwell in his "Notes on Boat-building," published in the "Record of the University Boat Race" in 1881, "would condescend to ask Dr. Warre to construct for them, and if their crews would also either learn to use the sliding apparatus effectively, or to discard it as pernicious and as an enemy to real oarsmanship when not thoroughly mastered, then we should be treated again to the welcome spectacle of boatstravelling instead of dragging, riding over the water instead of the water washing over the canvas, combined with that still more-to-be-desired spectacle of faultless form and faultless time—eight men ground into one perfect machine. Nothing short of that result will satisfy those who know what eight-oared rowing ought to be, and lament its decadence." Yet Cambridge had produced the 1876 crew, Oxford the 1878 crew, both of them models of style, unison and strength, and Leander both in 1875 and in 1880 had won the Grand Challenge Cup with admirable crews composed exclusively of University men. It would seem, therefore, as if Mr. Shadwell's strictures were undeserved, at least by the better class of University oars. The fact is that by that time, and for some years before that time, the true principles of sliding had been acquired, and the more serious defects of form had once more become the cherished possession of inferior college crews. But then, even in the glorious old fixed-seat days, College crews were not always remarkable for the beauty and correctness of their form. I am not going to deny that the difficulty of teaching good style has been increased by the addition of the sliding seat;but there have been innumerable examples during the last quarter of a century to prove that this difficulty can be faced and entirely overcome. Four crews I have already mentioned. I may add to them, not as exhausting the list of good crews, but as being splendid examples of combined style and power, the London Rowing Club crew of 1881, which won the final of the Grand from the outside station against Leander and Twickenham; the Oxford crews of 1892, 1896 and 1897; the crews of Trinity Hall, the Oxford Etonians, and the Thames Rowing Club in 1886 and 1887; the Cambridge crew and the Thames Rowing Club crew of 1888; the London Rowing Club crew of 1890; the Leander crews of 1891, 1893, 1894 and 1896; and the New College and Leander crews of the present year. It is fortunate that this should be so, for, the proof of the pudding being in the eating, it is hardly likely that crews will abandon a device which, while it has actually increased pace over the Henley course by close on half a minute, has rendered skill and watermanship of higher value, and has given an additional effect to physical strength.
During my undergraduate days at Cambridge, and for some years afterwards (say, up to about1884), the slide-tracks in racing boats were sixteen inches long.[5]This, allowing seven inches as the breadth of the seat itself, would give the slide a "play," or movement, of nine inches. The front-stop, which forms the limit of the forward movement of the slide, was fixed so as to bring the front edge of the slide to a point five inches from the "work,"i.e.from a line drawn straight across the boat from the back, or rowing, thole. At the finish of the stroke, therefore, when the slide had been driven full back, its front edge was fourteen inches away from the work. To put it in technical language, we slid up to five inches from our work and finished fourteen inches away from it. Since that time slides have become longer, and there are but few racing boats in which the slide-tracks are less than twenty-two or even twenty-three inches long, giving the slide a play of fifteen or sixteen inches. The front edge of the slide now moves forward (when I say "forward" I speak in relation to the movement of the body and not in relation to the ends of the boat) to a point which is level with the work. In other words, we now slide up to our work and finish fifteen or sixteeninches from it. On these long slides, when the body has attained the full reach, the flanks are closed in upon the thighs, the knees are bent until the thighs come fairly close to the calves, and,ex necessario, the ankle-joints are very much bent. It is plain that great flexibility of hip-joints, knees, and ankles must be attained in order that the slide may be used fully up to the last fraction of an inch in coming forward. This flexibility very few novices, and not all old stagers, possess. The muscles and joints at first absolutely refuse to accommodate themselves to this new strain, and you will see a man as he slides forward, taking his heels well off the stretcher in order to ease the strain upon his ankles, and moving his shoulders back long before his oar has gripped the water in order to relieve his hip-joints. This results in his missing the whole of his beginning, striking the water at right-angles to his rigger instead of well behind it, and having absolutely no firmness of drive when it becomes necessary for him to use his legs. In order, therefore, that matters may be made easier for novices, and that they may be brought on gradually, I strongly advise coaches to start them on slides much shorter than thosenow in vogue. A slide with a play of eight inches, coming to a point six inches from the work, is ample. A few days will make a wonderful difference, and later on, when the first stiffness has worn off and the movements have become easier, the slide can be gradually increased. At Oxford and Cambridge the proper seasons for such preliminary practice would be the Lent Term, when Torpids and Lent Races are over, and the beginning of the October term, when many College clubs—at any rate at Cambridge—organize Sliding-seat Trial Eights in clinker-built boats.
[5]The Metropolitan rowing clubs had, I believe, lengthened their sliding some time before this.
[5]The Metropolitan rowing clubs had, I believe, lengthened their sliding some time before this.
Two further points remain to be noticed. On fixed seats the ankles hardly bend up as the body swings forward, and it is possible, therefore, to use a stretcher fixed almost erect in the boat, the seat being placed eleven or twelve inches from the work. But with slides, as I have explained, the seat moves to a point which in racing boats is now level with the work, and few ankles are capable of submitting to the strain which would be involved if the stretchers were set up as erect ("proud" is the technical term) as they are with fixed seats. It is necessary, therefore, to set the stretchers more off on an incline (technically, to "rake" them). Itwill be found, I think, that, assuming a stretcher to be one foot in height, a set-off of nine inches will be amply sufficient for most novices, even on full slides.[6]I have myself never found any difficulty in maintaining my feet firm on a stretcher of this rake or even of less, and I have known some very supple-jointed men,e.g.Mr. H. Willis, of the Leander Crews of 1896 and 1897, who preferred to row with a stretcher set up a good deal prouder. But the average oar is not very supple-jointed, though his facility in this respect can be greatly improved by practice. To make things easier—and after all our object should be to smooth away all the oarsman's external difficulties—I consider it advisable to fix heel-traps to the stretcher. This simple device, by the pressure which it exercises against the back of the heels, counteracts their tendency to come away from the stretcher; but even with heel-traps, I have seen stiff-jointed oarsmen make the most superbly successful efforts to bring their heels away.
[6]The angle made by the back of the stretcher and the kelson may vary from 43° to 53°. Personally, I prefer 50°. The prouder (up to a certain point) you set the stretcher the firmer will your leg-power be at the finish of the stroke.
[6]The angle made by the back of the stretcher and the kelson may vary from 43° to 53°. Personally, I prefer 50°. The prouder (up to a certain point) you set the stretcher the firmer will your leg-power be at the finish of the stroke.
The second point is this: With sliding seats you require an oar of longer leverage (i.e.inboardmeasurement from rowing-face of button to end of handle) than with fixed seats. For a fixed seat an oar with a leverage of 3 ft. 5½ ins. should suffice. With long slides the leverage of an oar should not be less than 3 ft. 8 ins., nor more than 3 ft. 8½ ins. For this I assume that the distance of the centre of the seat from the sill of the row-lock is 2 ft. 7 ins. With regard to leverage, there is a practical unanimity of opinion amongst modern oarsmen. With regard to the outboard measurement of oars and the proper width of blade, they differ somewhat, but I can reserve this matter for the next chapter, merely premising that in any case it is not advisable to start your novices in gigs with oar-blades broader than 5¾ ins.
Let me imagine, then, that my pupil is seated in the gig, his stretcher having been fixed at a point that will enable him, when his slide is full back, and he is sitting on it easily without pressing, to have his kneesslightlybent.
And now to the business of instruction.
1. Remember and endeavour to apply all the lessons you have learnt on fixed seats. Slides add another element to the stroke. They do not alter the elements you have previously been taught.
2.Beginning.—Get hold of this just as you would on a fixed seat, with a sharp spring of the whole body, which thus begins its swing-back without the loss of a fraction of time.
(a) The natural tendency of a tiro will be to drive his slide away before his shoulders have begun to move. This must at all costs be avoided. In order to secure the effectual combination of body-swing and leg-work, it is essential that the swing should start first.(b) It is equally reprehensible to swing the body full back before starting the slide; you thus cut the stroke into two distinct parts, one composed of mere body-swing, the other of mere leg-work. Therefore:
(a) The natural tendency of a tiro will be to drive his slide away before his shoulders have begun to move. This must at all costs be avoided. In order to secure the effectual combination of body-swing and leg-work, it is essential that the swing should start first.
(b) It is equally reprehensible to swing the body full back before starting the slide; you thus cut the stroke into two distinct parts, one composed of mere body-swing, the other of mere leg-work. Therefore:
(2) When the body-swing backwards has started, but only the smallest fractional part of a second afterwards—so quickly, indeed, as to appear to the eye of a spectator almost a simultaneous movement—let the slide begin to travel back, the swing meanwhile continuing.
(a) Remember what was said in fixed-seat instructions as to the use of the toes and the ball of the foot at the beginning of the stroke. On slides this is even more important.
(a) Remember what was said in fixed-seat instructions as to the use of the toes and the ball of the foot at the beginning of the stroke. On slides this is even more important.
(3) Body and slide are now moving back in unison, the feet pressing with firm and steady pressure against the stretcher,and the arms perfectly straight. As the slide moves, the leg-power applied must on no account diminish. If anything it ought to increase, for the body is beginning to lose its impetus, and the main part of the resistance is transferred to the legs, the blade all the time moving at an even pace through the water.
(4) The body must swing a little further back than on a fixed seat.
(5) Body-swing and slide-back should end at the same moment.
(6) As they end, the knees should be pressed firmly down so as to enable you to secure the last ounce of leg-power from the stretcher. Simultaneously with this depression of the legs, the hands (and particularly the outside hand, which has been doing the main share of the work of the stroke all through) must bring the oar-handle firmly home to the chest, sweeping it in and thus obtaining what is called a firm hard finish. As the knees come finally down, the elbows pass the sides, and the shoulders move back and downwards.
(a) Mr. W. B. Woodgate, in the Badminton book on "Boating," says: "Many good oarsmen slide until the knees are quite straight. In the writer's opinion this is waste of power: the knees should never quite straighten; the recovery is, for anatomical reasons, much stronger if the joint is slightly bent when the reversal of the machinery commences. The extra half-inch of kick gained by quite straightening the knees hardly compensates for the extra strain of recovery; also leg-work to the last fraction of a second of swing is better preserved by this retention of a slight bend, and an open chest and clean finish are thereby better attained."If Mr. Woodgate means that the legs arenotto be pressed down as the stroke finishes, but are to remain loosely bent, I differ from him, though, considering his high authority, with hesitation and regret. As a matter of fact, the front edge of the thwart catches the calves of the legs at the finish, when the legs are pressed down, and prevents the knees frombeingabsolutelystraightened. But I am certain that unless an oarsman assures his legs in the firm position that I have explained, he will lose most valuable power at the end of the stroke, and will materially increase his difficulty in taking his oar clean out of the water and generally in getting a smart recovery. This final leg-pressure not only supports the body in a somewhat trying position, but enables the hands to come home to the chest without faltering. As on fixed seats, it is essential that the body should not be pulled forward to meet the oar. And it is equally essential that it should not sink down or fall away from the hands, thus rendering an elastic recovery impossible.(b) The blade, as on fixed seats, must be kept fully covered to the finish, and there must be power on it to the last fraction of an inch. If a man takes his oar out of the water before he has fairly ended his stroke, and rows his finish in the air, or if he partially uncovers his blade androws "light," he commits in either case a serious fault. In the former case his whole body-weight, which ought to be propelling the boat, not only ceases to have any good effect, but becomes so much dead lumber, and actually impedes her progress. In the latter he can only exert half, or, it may be, one quarter of his proper power during an appreciable part of the stroke.
(a) Mr. W. B. Woodgate, in the Badminton book on "Boating," says: "Many good oarsmen slide until the knees are quite straight. In the writer's opinion this is waste of power: the knees should never quite straighten; the recovery is, for anatomical reasons, much stronger if the joint is slightly bent when the reversal of the machinery commences. The extra half-inch of kick gained by quite straightening the knees hardly compensates for the extra strain of recovery; also leg-work to the last fraction of a second of swing is better preserved by this retention of a slight bend, and an open chest and clean finish are thereby better attained."
If Mr. Woodgate means that the legs arenotto be pressed down as the stroke finishes, but are to remain loosely bent, I differ from him, though, considering his high authority, with hesitation and regret. As a matter of fact, the front edge of the thwart catches the calves of the legs at the finish, when the legs are pressed down, and prevents the knees frombeingabsolutelystraightened. But I am certain that unless an oarsman assures his legs in the firm position that I have explained, he will lose most valuable power at the end of the stroke, and will materially increase his difficulty in taking his oar clean out of the water and generally in getting a smart recovery. This final leg-pressure not only supports the body in a somewhat trying position, but enables the hands to come home to the chest without faltering. As on fixed seats, it is essential that the body should not be pulled forward to meet the oar. And it is equally essential that it should not sink down or fall away from the hands, thus rendering an elastic recovery impossible.
(b) The blade, as on fixed seats, must be kept fully covered to the finish, and there must be power on it to the last fraction of an inch. If a man takes his oar out of the water before he has fairly ended his stroke, and rows his finish in the air, or if he partially uncovers his blade androws "light," he commits in either case a serious fault. In the former case his whole body-weight, which ought to be propelling the boat, not only ceases to have any good effect, but becomes so much dead lumber, and actually impedes her progress. In the latter he can only exert half, or, it may be, one quarter of his proper power during an appreciable part of the stroke.
(7) The drop of the hands, the turn of the wrists, the shoot-out of the hands, and the straightening of the arms must be performed precisely as on a fixed seat, but the legs, meanwhile, are to remain braced, so that knees may not hamper hands. As soon as ever the hands have been shot out, andimmediatelyafter the start of the forward swing, the slide comes into play, and the knees consequently begin to bend outwards and upwards. It is very important not to pause or "hang" on the recovery.
(8) The recovery movements ought to release the body smartly, but care must be taken not to hustle the body forward with a rush before the arms are straightened. The bodybeginsto swingfrom the hipsas soon as the hands release it, but the swing is to be a slow one.