When I recalled the little scene in my hut, her passionate, unrestrained farewell, I felt that I ought to have known it then; but, if I may indulge in a philosophical reflection, I would say that all through life you are always looking back and blaming yourself for not having seen more plainly the things which were passing before your eyes.
Well, this was nearly the end of my adventure with Captain Laurenston; yet one or two incidents which remain to be told were perhaps as important to me as any that had gone before. There was at the end of our lane a cottage, somewhat larger than its neighbours, with quite a nice piece of ground attached, a great deal superior, indeed, to the others. To my amazement, Messrs Primer, of Lincoln’s Inn, sent down a clerk with the title-deeds of this house and land, which were actually presented to me as from Captain Laurenston.
It made my fortune, I may say. I was married to Patty within six months, and with her I have been thoroughly happy. But it was many a long day before I told her as much as I have written here. The captain and his wife must have had excellent information from some one in the neighbourhood of what went on—which was easy enough, as they were on friendly terms with old Mr Cleabyrn—for they sent Patty a beautiful silk dress and an amethyst brooch as wedding presents.
After a good many years, they returned to England, when Major Starley—who had been forced to resign—was dead, and the affair had blown over. They lived a long way off, however, and I only saw them once or twice. When I met Mrs Laurenston, leaning on her husband’s arm, or saw her riding in the pony carriage with some of her six pretty children, why, I laughed. But once I could not have laughed.
ROWING AT OXFORD.
Great interest is generally shown throughout the country about the month of March in the preparations that are made at our two chief English universities for the annual boatrace; but few of those that read the newspaper accounts of the daily practice of the two crews know how much energy and time have been devoted by their individual members to acquiring the skill which will qualify them for a seat in the ‘’varsity eight.’ Hence we propose here to give a short account of rowing at Oxford, and the different college races that a man has almost invariably taken part in before he is even tried for ‘the ’varsity.’
The academical year commences with the October term, and it is in that term that the majority of freshmen come into residence; accordingly, this is the time chosen by the captains of the various college boat-clubs for testing the rowing capabilities of the freshmen of their college, and ‘coaching’ all those who wish to go in for boating. Every afternoon during the greater part of this term, the captain and other members of the college eight may be seen standing up in the stern of ‘tub-pair’ or four, instructing and exhorting their crews, as they paddle swiftly down to Ifley lock, or toil up again against the swollen stream. Towards the end of the term, the men who have been coached in this way are formed into regular crews; and after one or two weeks’ practice together, these crews row against each other in ‘tub-fours’ for the Silver Challenge Oars, or some prize given by the college boat-club.
Passing over to the next, that is the Lent term, we come to the first eight-oared college races, which at Oxford are better known as the Torpids. In these races, the colleges compete against one another for the honour of first place or ‘head of the river.’ No man who has rowed in his college ‘eight’ in the previous year is eligible to row in his Torpid; the majority of the crew consist of men who have received coaching in the October term, and have taken part in the four-oared races described above.
The first week or two of this term is occupied by the captain in selecting and arranging his crew; when that is made up, regular practice is the order of the day, for the most part on the stretch of water between Oxford and Ifley, but occasionally varied by a ‘long course’ to Abingdon, a distance of seven miles. Coaching is done by members of the ‘eight,’ who run with the boat along the towpath, shouting at the top of their voices to the different members of the crew, and sometimes, when the floods are out and the towpath is covered, splashing through water nearly up to their knees. Practice of this kind is continued daily, no matter what the weather is, until the races take place, which is usually about the middle of the term. Each college is represented by one boat, and in some cases by two boats, so that there are generally from twenty to twenty-five boats entered, and these are divided into two divisions. The races occupy six days, each division rowing once each day, the second division always commencing. The boats are placed one behind the other in the order in which they left off the year before, with a clear space of about two boat-lengths between each. The object aimed at by each boat is to overtake the boat in front and bump it. If successful in doing this, these two boats at once draw out of the way, and leave room for those following to pass; and on the next day they change places. The head boat of the second division is called the ‘Sandwich’ boat, and rows again the same afternoon at the bottom of the first division, in this way forming a link by which a boat may pass from one division to the other.
Having paddled down to their respective positions, the boats are turned, and preparations are made for the race. A line attached to the bank is held by the cockswain, and this, with the assistance of a waterman with a long pole, helps to keep the boat in position and prevents it drifting out of its place. Meanwhile, the first signal-gun has been fired, and the crews are divesting themselves of jackets and mufflers. Soon the second gun is heard, and there is now one minute before the signal to start is given. What an anxious minute that is, so much depends upon getting off well, especially with a crew in which many of the men are rowing in one of these bumping races for the first time. A bad start causes flurry and unsteadiness in the boat, and then there is sometimes a risk of being bumped before the men settle down together to a long and even stroke. Bang! The starting gun has fired, and off go the dozen or more boats in a long line; the towpath is crowded with men, running with their respective college crews, shouting, blowing horns, and making use of every conceivable instrument of noise to urge on and encourage their representatives. By the time the barges, which are crowded with spectators, are reached, great gaps will have appeared in the line, as most of the bumps take place below; though here too, sometimes, a most exciting race is witnessed, when some boat, almost overlapped by its rival, is seen struggling to reach the winning-post without being bumped. Nor is this bumping so easy as it might at first seem; but a good deal of skill is required on the part of the cockswain to effect it. In the first place, there is always the danger of making the shot too soon, in which case the boat, missing the stern of the one in front, shoots half-way across the river, and thereby loses a good deal of ground. Again, when one boat is overlapping another, the cockswain of the first, by pulling his rudder towards the bow of his rival, can cause such a wave of water to wash against the latter as to ward off for a time the actual bump; then, by a judicious spurt on the part of his ‘stroke,’ when the rudder is again straightened, he may be enabled to draw away and steer his boat in safety past the winning-post.