The crews did all the routine work of the camp, three being on duty every 245 day and one off. These three were the kitchen crew, which supplied the cook’s boy to prepare vegetables and run errands, and which cleaned all the pots, pans, and kitchen utensils; the police crew, which cleaned the lamps, swept the rooms, and removed all litter from the grounds; and the dish crew, which washed all the larger dishes used on the table, as well as the plate, cup, knife, fork, and spoon of any guest for the first three days of his stay on the island. After that the guest did his own work. The dish crew supplied the inspector of dishes—generally the sub-stroke—and visitors, I remember, got useful lessons on what constituted cleanliness as they stood meekly before him. It was safe to say that any article passing inspection was in a condition to be used again. Each crew in turn became kitchen, police, and dish, during three days, and on the fourth, the off crew. This was expected to do any work outside of the regular duties of the day, such as manning a boat for visitors, handling express matter or supplies, or, in short, anything not done by the others. The milk boat was manned by the kitchen crew, and the mail boat by the police. Practically speaking, each crew worked about five hours a day.
It was a cardinal principle in Camp Chocorua that the boys should govern the boys. The strokes were to all intents and purposes supreme over their crews, and under no circumstances did a member of the faculty give an order to a member of a crew. The order was given to the stroke or sub-stroke in command, and he carried it out as he saw fit. The stroke was expected not only to rule his crew and see they did the work, he must also set them an example by doing as much or more than any one of them. In point of fact, the stroke and sub-stroke were generally the two most efficient boys in a crew. But in such a system as this, that a member of a crew might be disobedient, or a stroke might be tyrannical, was not lost sight of. The stroke had no power to punish, but he could, were his orders disobeyed, direct a boy to report to the faculty. On the other hand, although the presence of a member of the faculty prevented any open bullying, it was within the power of a stroke to “work” a boy, and that boy had an appeal to the faculty. As in Camp Chocorua in proportion to the power was the responsibility, the appeal was a much more serious thing than the report. When the latter was made by order of a stroke, the boy might be reprimanded, given a good talking, or be shifted into another crew. In extreme cases he might be declared an Incapable—than which nothing was 246 more detested. If it were found that a boy could not get along with any stroke he might be sent home, because this meant he refused to submit to the discipline of the camp.
The position of stroke was the most sought for in Camp Chocorua. It was understood the stroke had to get the work done perfectly, rule his crew justly and without friction, and personally be a model of a camp boy. If he failed in either of these, the inference was obvious—he was unfit for the position; the faculty had made a mistake in putting him into it. If a complaint of tyranny was proved, there was but one thing to do—the stroke was reduced in rank. He lost all the privileges of his position, and in the eyes of all, men and boys alike, he was disgraced; he was officially declared to be unfit to govern others. It is difficult to find among the possible experiences of men anything equal in severity, and the boys in the camp dreaded such punishment as they dreaded nothing else. It was bad enough when a sub-stroke was reduced, but to a stroke it was terrible. The system, however, was in itself almost enough to prevent this punishment. A stroke was expected to keep his crew happy and contented, and there were keen eyes watching him all the while, and kindly men ready to give a hint.
