Then follows a suggestive remark, which conveys the impression that the assimilation of the twelfth part of two turkeys, six chickens, and a leg of pork—besides vegetables—cannot be accomplished with impunity. “I was invited to another, but I was in the infirmary, and could not go to it”!
Sir George Rodney Mundy was a very well-known man in later years; he finished his active career as Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth, and afterwards became Admiral of the Fleet.
Admiral Sir Bartholomew J. Sulivan speaks in his “Life and Letters” of his College days:—
“Lieutenant John Wood Rouse (my godfather) was the senior of the two lieutenants of the College. He had lost his leg as a midshipman in one of the ships of Sir John Duckworth’s Squadron in the passage of the Dardanelles. We stayed at Mr. Rouse’s house during the few days we were at Portsmouth, until I passed in. My father was very anxious about my passing; but the questions were all in arithmetic, except the definitions of Euclid, which I had learned by heart the previous week. Thanks to my father having taught me arithmetic so well, I passed first of twelve.
“No boy could get on unless he studied in his own cabin, and at the dining tables in the evening. This some of the senior boys tried to prevent, by watching the steps of the junior class, and if the junior boys showed any intention of studying they were sure to have their books knocked out of their hands, and scattered about the Yard. Fortunately, the one who passed in second to me—Baugh—was one of the strongest and biggest boys in the College: he was also one of the studious ones, and often protected me from the bullying.
“The collegians were often taken round the Dockyard, and shown ships building and in dock; and if the boys liked they could attend the rigging-loft, to learn to strop blocks and do many other useful things. There were also large barges to cruise about in, to visit ships, and to take us to Haslar Creek on Saturday afternoons for cricket.
“When I passed out of the College I was appointed to H.M.S. Thetis, Captain Sir John Phillimore, who, going round the College a short time before, had told Dr. Inman, and I believe Captain Loring, the Lieutenant-Governor, that if they sent him any collegians he would refuse to take them. When I went on board I found the captain was on leave. The second lieutenant told me that the captain had a strong prejudice against collegians, but that he would do all he could to keep me in the ship. When the captain returned from leave he sent for me to his cabin in the hulk, and told me had never known a collegian worth his salt, and he used strong language against the College and all connected with it.”
This was not a very encouraging reception for a youngster in his first ship; but the captain apparently soon found cause to change his opinion, for he subsequently applied for two more collegians, one of whom was Sulivan’s big strong chum Baugh.
Sir Bartholomew was well known afterwards as a splendid officer and seaman, and an exceedingly clever man all round.
Such is briefly the history of the Royal Naval Academy and College during its existence as a preparatory training school for young naval officers, for over one hundred years. That much good work was done there, especially during the long presidency of Professor Inman, there can be little doubt; but the authorities evidently formed the opinion that the youngsters would in future get on better without it, and so returned to the “pitchfork” system of sending lads to sea without any previous training whatever, to pick up their knowledge as best they could, with the aid of a naval instructor, who was, as a rule, afforded as little facility for imparting knowledge as the commanding officer could manage.