But we must hurry after them, or they will get the start of us, and we shall lose them.
We have not far to go before we catch them. A bugle sounds, and a hundred and twenty forms plunge from the bathing-stage and quay into the water. The bright harbour is dotted with the heads of swimmers. Some backward boys are being taught to swim in a "swimming-tray," a thing like a flat-bottomed barge, sunk with its bottom about four feet below the surface. A capital place it is for teaching youngsters to swim. But all soon learn, and are free to join the others in sporting about and cutting capers in the water. A warning bugle of one note says "it will soon be time to get out," and by the time the bugle sounds fifteen minutes from the first, they must all get out of the water.
The gymnasium—the building in the top left-hand corner of the picture on p. 145—is close by. Here they must go through a series of exercises, and they are obliged to attend till they can do them. "Compulsory Gyms," is not a favourite, so they like to get through and be free.
Here are the "blue boats,"—boats which they may have by themselves, gigs for four to pull, skiffs for two or one. They may row about wherever they like, and when the new boys first come, they are very fond of going out in boats as often as they can. They have to take turns with one another in using them. There are six little sailing-cutters too, which the elder cadets may take and sail by themselves. Then, besides, there is a fine yacht, a schooner, which they may sail on a holiday, when ten or twelve wish to go.
These young fellows have every sort of game. We turn away from the water, and follow some who are mounting a steep path. Here is the racquet-court—four are playing racquets and four playing fives.
And climbing still higher up the hill, we get to the cricket-field, a glorious sweep of grass with nets for cricket and lawn tennis, as much as heart could wish.
In the summer, there is a match at cricket between the Britannia eleven and some neighbours every half-holiday, and the Britannias usually win, though they play the best elevens round. Their officers play with them.
There is a flow of boys with paper bags from a suspicious-looking little house in the corner of the field. Ah! I thought as much. No schoolboy can do without his sweetstuff, and here it is. "Stodge" they call it, a horrible name, but very true. I am sure much more sensible are those who walk off to the neighbouring village of Stoke Fleming, where they can get a nice tea from Mrs. Fox from sixpence to a shilling.
We well remember how shocked Mrs. Fox was to come in and find the elder son of the Prince of Wales chopping sticks in her kitchen; for these two young princes six years ago spent a cadet's life of two years, and lived with the others, and worked and played exactly like the rest.
The Britannia life, you will see, is a very free and happy life. "Work while you work and play while you play" is the motto, and there is plenty of work and plenty of play for all who will have it.