These races conclude the rowing for this term, though sometimes the last few days are spent in coaching the best men from the Torpid on ‘sliding seats,’ by way of preparation for the next term’s practice for the ‘eight.’
We now come to the summer or May term, the pleasantest term of all, as far as boating is concerned. The most important races during this term are those in which the college eights compete. They are carried out in exactly the same manner as the Torpids described above, the only difference being in the kind of boat used. The Torpids row in what are called clinker-built or gig-boats, which have a small keel, and of which the seats are fixed; whereas the ‘eights’ are rowed in smooth, keelless boats—the bottom somewhat resembling that of a small canoe—and fitted with sliding seats, by which the stroke can be lengthened and more use made of the legs. The extremities of the boat are covered with canvas, to prevent the water washing in over the side. The crew of a college eight is composed of the best men the college can muster, all of course being members of the college.
The races, as we mentioned before, are arranged in the same way as those in which the Torpids compete, though perhaps more interest is shown in the eights; and as they come off at a pleasanter time of the year, and are undoubtedly one of the sights of the university, the spectators include many more strangers. The ’varsity ‘sculls’ and the ’varsity ‘pairs’—the former open to any member, and the latter to any two members of the ’varsity boat-club—conclude the rowing at Oxford for this term; though it should here be mentioned that two or three of the boats that have shown themselves above the average in the eight-oared races, often keep in practice for Henley regatta, which takes place soon after the close of this term.
We have now given a brief description of a year’s college rowing at Oxford, that is, rowing in which a college crew competes with members of its own or other colleges. Starting again with the October term, we propose saying something about rowing for the ’varsity, the chief event in which is the annual race with Cambridge. There is, however, one college race not yet mentioned, which takes place in the October term—namely, the ’varsity ‘Fours,’ open to all the colleges. For this event there are not generally more than from six to eight boats entered, as considerably more skill and watermanship are required than for the college eight. The boats used, though of much the same construction as the latter, are of course smaller, and therefore more difficult to sit; moreover, they do not carry a cockswain, the steering being done by one of the crew with his feet, by means of wires connecting the rudder with a lever attached to his stretcher, so that, by moving this lever with his foot to one side or the other, a corresponding motion is given to the rudder. This race takes place in the first half of the term, and immediately afterwards the work of selecting a crew for the inter-university boatrace is commenced.
With this object in view, the names of two or three of the best men from each college are received by the President; and the remaining weeks of this term are spent in testing on the river these fifty or sixty men and selecting from them the best sixteen; these, again, are divided into two regular crews, which are known by the name of the ‘Trial Eights.’ A race takes place at the end of the term between these crews; they are coached by the President, and their rowing is carefully watched by him and his advisers. Those who have displayed the greatest ‘staying-powers’ and the most perfect style, or are likely to develop into the best ‘oars,’ are picked out, and, along with any members of the last year’s crew that may be available, form the material out of which the ‘’Varsity eight’ is composed.
The process of selecting the actual crew out of these men that have been chosen from the ‘Trial Eights,’ and arranging them in the places they are best fitted to occupy, takes up the first few weeks of the next or Lent term. Their strength and ‘staying-powers’ are tested by long rows to Abingdon and back, and at the same time they are coached by the President, or by some ‘old-blue’ who has come up to help him.
By the middle of the term, the crew is generally settled upon, and on Ash-Wednesday they go into strict training. The old theories of training on raw meat, &c., have quite died out; a plentiful supply of plain, well-cooked food is allowed, but only a very moderate amount of liquor, and smoking must be entirely knocked off. For breakfast and dinner the crew meet together in each other’s rooms, each man entertaining the rest for one day in turn while they are still at Oxford. Lunch is only a light meal. The rowing is almost entirely done during the afternoon. Ten days or a fortnight before the time fixed for the race, the crew go up to Putney to complete their practice on the tidal water and the course over which the race is to be rowed. Their doings here and the race itself need no description in this paper. Their daily practice on the London water, the time they occupy in rowing over the course, even their very movements are watched and recorded by the daily press. Suffice it to say that this notoriety is not at all desired by the members of the crews, and that, owing to the inconvenience and obstruction it sometimes causes to their practice, the proposal to hold the race on other and quieter waters has been more than once discussed.
A HOLIDAY IN COUNTY CORK.
Leap is not a name suggestive of things Irish, yet the place so called is as pure a specimen of the primitive Irish village as one might wish to find. There it was our happiness to spend a holiday in the summer of 1885. During our few weeks’ stay we made the acquaintance of a people whose character and modes of life have the flavour of an age innocent of the civilities of the nineteenth century. The village of Leap is in County Cork, at the extreme south-west corner of Ireland, about eighteen miles to the east of Cape Clear, and about forty to the west of the city of Cork. It stands at the head of Glandore Bay, one of the numberless inlets that are so striking a feature of this part of the Irish coast.
Glandore Bay is itself worth a lengthened pilgrimage. In Scotland or England it would have been famous, and would long since have been a fashionable seaside resort. The transatlantic steamers cross its mouth at no great distance; and it is an impressive spectacle to see them flash across in the darkness, with all their portholes lit, and at what appears to be something like railway speed. The village of Leap is cut in two by a streamlet, over which a bridge has now been thrown. Across this stream, we are told, a deer, hard pressed by the hunters, once took a desperate leap; hence the name of the village. In former times, this same stream was the limit of English law in Ireland. ‘Beyond the Leap,’ it used to be said, ‘beyond the law.’ And indeed, the country beyond the Leap is a perfect paradise for outlaws. The very sight of it is sufficient to deter the further progress of the most hot-headed officer of justice. This corner of County Cork, therefore, was the haunt of pirates, smugglers, and various outlawed persons. There is no part of the British isles richer in tales of blood and adventure. The district retained its lawless character down to comparatively recent times; but in modern days, the private manufacture of a little poteen is the extent of its misdemeanours.