In such fashion was the arrival of the Britannia on her new station; and as the present writer happened to be one of the fourth division above referred to, and has a vivid recollection of that morning—particularly of the biting wind—the account may be taken as moderately accurate.
The cadets were sent for a run on shore in the afternoon, while the dockyard men, assisted by a party of seamen from the Trafalgar, got in the moorings.
Of the period at Portland—which, as will be seen, was not very long—the principal characteristic was its monotony. All the cadets who were in the Britannia during that time will probably agree in this. There was but little fun to be got out of Fortune’s Well, as the village was called; and even the “tuck” was indifferent—a man used to come to the field with ices and various unwholesome stuffs in the summer; there was not much cricket or football worthy the name.
True, there were the “blue gigs”; they were greatly in demand in fine weather, but in such an exposed place a very moderate amount of wind would render their use impossible; the sailing launch was rarely used except for instructional purposes. The captains—twelve in number—were allowed to visit Weymouth on half-holidays, but the remainder only on rare occasions.
A small steamer used to come alongside to take the cadets on shore to Portland, and a larger one, plying regularly to Weymouth, would call when required to take cadets or officers there.
Among the amusements indulged in by some of the more adventurous among the cadets was the search after sea-birds’ eggs on the cliffs at the west side of Portland; and this resulted, not very long after the arrival of the ship, in a sad fatality, a cadet named Cox losing his life by a fall from the cliff.
Whatever may have been the drawbacks of Portland as a station, the captain and his staff pursued the chief end and aim of the establishment with unremitting vigour, and great success. Seamanship and navigation were thoroughly well taught, and any lad who was even moderately industrious might go to sea with every detail of standing and running rigging, reefing and furling, etc., at his fingers’ ends, only needing a little experience afloat to render him—malgré the prophecies of the malcontents of the old school—a most useful young officer. Some of them were very respectable boat-sailers as well; while all were able to take a tolerably accurate observation for latitude or longitude, and work it out correctly: no mean equipment with which to start in a sea-going ship.
The weak part of the scheme was in French and drawing, as it usually was in those days in almost all educational establishments.
The drawing-master, though an accomplished draughtsman, did not appear to have much idea of imparting his knowledge to his pupils; systematic teaching in form and perspective was unknown; so that a lad who possessed considerable natural talent in this direction usually found himself at the end just about where he was at the beginning.
Of the French instruction it can only be said that it is difficult to conceive how such a farce could be permitted to drag on year after year. The French lesson was a time for every mountebank trick imaginable, little heed being paid to the half-hearted remonstrances of the good-natured professor. It would commence with some feeble attempt at one of Ollendorf’s exercises, which, of course, contain abundant material of merriment for the youthful mind.