CHAPTER XI.
STEERING.
(Some Hints to Novice Coxswains.)
By G. L. Davis,
Cox of the Cambridge Eight, 1875-79; Cox of Leander, 1880-85.
Many people think that any one, provided he be of the proper weight, is fitted to fill the post of coxswain.
Nobody, however, knows better than the actual rowing man what an amount of useless labour and irritation a crew can be saved by possessing a good man in the stern, not to mention the assistance he can afford both directly and indirectly in getting a crew together. Certainly a mere tiro, having acquired the elementary knowledge that if he pulls the right rudder-line he will turn his boat to starboard, i.e. to the right, and that if he pulls his left line he will turn her to port, i.e. to the
left, may be able to guide a boat sufficiently well for ordinary purposes; but even in the period of training a crew, and still more so in the race, there is undoubtedly plenty of scope for a clever coxswain to distinguish himself. There is no royal road to good steering. Pains and perseverance are necessary, as in every other branch of athletics. The attainment of perfection in steering is not all that is requisite; there are many other qualities added to this skill which combine to make a coxswain worthy to be reckoned in the front rank—a position which all coxswains should aim for.
In the days of Tom Egan the steerer had to act as coach to his crew, but nowadays he is no longer called upon to do so. He is, in the first place, chosen on account of his light weight; but eligible though he may be in this respect, he is too often quite incapable in other ways of performing his duties. Should this be the case, a crew would be well advised in carrying a few more pounds, or even a stone or two extra, if by so doing they manage to gain an able and experienced coxswain. There are certain qualities which are absolutely essential in the right sort. He should have light
hands, judgment, a cool head, and plenty of nerve to enable him to keep his presence of mind in the face of a sudden predicament or unforeseen danger. There are numberless occasions both in practice and during races when risks are run. A boat laden with pleasure-seekers may suddenly pop out from the bank into the course. The coolness of the coxswain may avert very much more serious consequences than the loss of a stroke or two, such as a broken rigger or an injury to an oarsman, by a touch of the rudder and a ready appeal to his crew to mind their oars.
During a University Boat Race, in which I was steering the Cambridge Boat, a waterman's wherry, with two or three occupants, was suddenly pulled out from the Surrey shore at a short distance above Hammersmith Bridge. The course at this point lies somewhat near to the bank, and the Oxford Boat was nearly level with mine. The wherry was directly in my way, and, as far as I could make out, those who were in it seemed to be in doubt as to whether they should row still further out or make for the shore. If I went to the right, a foul was imminent with the Oxford Boat; if to the left, I should have got into slack
water and lost ground by the détour. There was no time for those in the wherry to waste in making up their minds, so I promptly made straight for them with the object of driving them out of my course. The desired effect followed. They got sufficient way on in the direction of the shore to enable me to steer straight on and clear them. My action involved the ticklish question of judgment of distance and of pace, namely, should I reach the spot before the wherry was clear; and this anecdote illustrates my point—that quickness in making up the mind, and, when it is made up, in acting, is essential to a coxswain.