From the hints given in the preceding chapter it will have been gathered that good oarsmen are of all sizes and weights. But it must not be forgotten that no small part of the motive-power of a crew comes from heavy men. By weight I do not, of course, mean that which results from mere adipose deposit; but weight, as it is usually found amongst young men, that depends on the size of the frame and the limbs, and on their due covering of muscle and sinew. I cannot, therefore, too strongly advise a captain or a coach to spare no labour and no patience in endeavouring to teach big men how to row. There will be disappointments. Every one who has experience of rowing must remember at least one massive and magnificent giant who failed to learn, in spite of infinite pains on his own part and on the part of those who had to teach him. Out of a boat he may have looked the very model of what a heavy-weight oarsman should be—erect, strong, well-proportioned, supple, and active. But put him in a boat, and at once he suffered a river change. His muscles turned into pulp, his chest became hollow, his arms and legs were mere nerveless attachments, and his whole body assumed the shapelessness of a sack of potatoes. In the end, after many days, the hopeless effort had to be sadly abandoned, and the would-be oarsman returned to the rough untutored struggles of the football field, or the intoxicating delights of lawn-tennis and golf. But, on the other hand, there are innumerable instances to prove that a big man who has never touched an oar before he came to Oxford or Cambridge, or joined one of the Metropolitan clubs, may, by care and perseverance, be turned into the pride and mainstay of his crew. Therefore, I say, persist with big and heavy men, in spite of occasional discouragements; for there is more advantage to a crew in one rough thirteen-stoner who really works and swings than in two light-weights polished ad unguem.

In the shapes of oarsmen, again, every kind of variety may be found, not merely in minor details, but in the whole physical characteristics of their bodies. Bob Coombes, the professional champion of 1846, 1847, and 1851, has recorded his opinion that the best physical type of oarsman is the man who is, amongst other things, deep-chested and straight and full in the flanks; who, in other words, has no waist to speak of. To this type Mr. S. D. Muttlebury and Mr. Guy Nickalls conform, and there can be no doubt that it is the best. But I have known oarsmen who varied from it in every detail, and yet did magnificent work in a crew. I have already mentioned Mr. C. W. Kent, and I may add another example in Mr. H. Willis, of the Leander Club, a very finished and valuable oar, who has given his proofs not only in an Eight, but also as No. 3 of the winning Stewards' Four at Henley Regatta this year. Mr. Willis is tall and loose-jointed. He is not furnished with any great quantity of muscle, and his modesty will not resent my adding that, though he has a well-framed chest, he also possesses a very distinct waist. I might multiply such instances; but they may all be summed up in the statement that a really good oarsman is never of a bad shape—for rowing. The ultimate test is to be found not in the examination of his muscle or the measurement of his frame, but in the careful and patient observation of his work while he is actually engaged in rowing. A mere weed, of course, cannot row to advantage; but I have seen more than one instance of so-called weeds who eventually developed under the influence of the exercise into solid and capable oars. And, as a rule, there is more promise in the comparative weakling than in the gymnast whose tight binding of muscles impedes the freedom and alertness of his limbs.

We may now consider how the practice of an ordinary eight-oared crew should be conducted. There is a certain amount of difference of opinion as to how long a crew should remain in their tub—that is, in their clinker-built boat—before taking to the racing-ship. Most college captains, I think, keep their men in the heavy boat too long. Four or five days are, I think, an amply sufficient period. Experienced oars are none the better for rowing in a heavy boat, and novices who have much to learn in watermanship, and want a long period for the learning, can be taught the requisite lessons only in a light ship. The difficulties of sitting such a ship are, as a rule, much exaggerated; and the young oar who watches the scratch crews rowing against a University crew, or sees a Leander Eight setting out for the first time, is apt to be surprised when he notes how eight men, who have never rowed together before, can move along with uniformity and steadiness. There are, no doubt, difficulties of balance and quickness in light ship rowing; but the sooner these are faced the better for all concerned. I am assuming, of course, that the novice has been already drilled in the manner described in previous chapters.

As to the total length of the period of practice from the start to the day of the race, that must, and does, vary according to circumstances. A University crew practising for a long race will be at work generally from about the middle of January until towards the end of March, some ten weeks in all. Cambridge college crews have six weeks, Oxford college crews only about four, for the college races. A London, Thames, or Kingston crew can command at least seven weeks for the practice of its Henley crew. On the other hand, no winning Leander crew that I have known has ever practised for more than three weeks as a combination; though individual members of it, who had not been at work since the previous year, may have been taking rowing exercise on their own account for some little time before the eight got to work. As a typical example, I may take the remarkable Leander crew of 1896. Five members of this crew—Mr. Guy Nickalls, Mr. J. A. Ford, Mr. C. W. N. Graham, Mr. T. H. E. Stretch, and Mr. H. Willis—had had no rowing exercise for a year; one, Mr. W. F. C. Holland, had not worked, except for a casual regatta in Portugal, since the final of the Grand Challenge Cup in 1893; the other two, Mr. H. Gold and Mr. R. Carr, had been in regular practice at Oxford or at Putney since the previous October. Two weeks before practice in the Eight began, Messrs. Holland, Ford, Stretch, and Graham began work in a Four, with Mr. Graham, the eventual bow of the Eight, at stroke. Mr. Willis had half this period of preliminary practice in a pair. Mr. Nickalls had for some weeks been working at Putney in a Four and a pair. Just three clear weeks before the first day of Henley Regatta the Eight was launched; but it was not until three days after this that Mr. Nickalls was able to come into the boat, and the crew for the first time rowed in its final order, the advent of Mr. Nickalls resulting in four changes in its arrangement. And yet this crew defeated Yale University, who had been practising for months, and other crews, composed of good material, that had been together for six or seven weeks. I have in my mind, too, another crew, a combination of three Oxonians, two Cantabs, two Etonians, and one Radleian, who, on one week's practice, managed to beat over a one-mile course the Eights of the London and Thames clubs, in spite of their ten or eleven weeks of practice.

I do not wish to have it inferred from the foregoing facts that in my opinion those crews are likely to turn out best which practise together for a very short time. Still, the qualities of skill, keenness of enthusiasm, strength, condition, and racing ability, are factors in success even more important than length of practice. It ought, of course, to be true that if you could get two crews equally matched as regards these qualities that which had had the longer period of practice should win because of its greater uniformity. Moreover, in most cases extra length of practice up to a certain point ought to imply superiority of condition. Beyond that point a crew, though it maintains its outward uniformity and style, will fall off in pace, because overwork will have dulled the edge of its energies, and robbed it of the brisk animation that marks the rowing of men trained to the very needle-point of perfect condition. And on the whole, taking condition and the risks of staleness into account, I should prefer to take my chances for an ordinary race with a crew that had practised from four to five weeks, rather than with one that had been at it for ten or eleven. I leave out of account the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race, both because of the length of the course over which it is rowed, and on account of the frequent changes to which the authorities generally find themselves compelled to resort. And even for this race, if a president could at the outset be absolutely certain as to the general composition of the crew, he would find, I think, that a period of seven weeks at the outside would be fully sufficient for him and his men. The whole matter amounts to this, that a captain or a coach must consider carefully all the circumstances of his case—the skill, the condition, the experience and the strength of his men, and the distance over which they have to race, and must decide on the period of practice accordingly. I cannot on paper lay down any fixed general rule for his guidance, but can only bring before him a few detached considerations which may be useful to him as food for reflection. For my own part, I may add that I have never found the least difficulty, even after a year's rest from rowing, in getting into very good racing condition on three or four weeks of work.

How to arrange the Daily Work of an Eight.

Let the real hard work be done in the earlier stages of practice. You thus accustom your men to one another, and you grind them into a uniformity which makes all their subsequent work easier. This plan has been very successfully followed by Oxford crews. Before they get to Putney they will have rowed over the long course of four miles some ten times. As a result, the men are hard and row well together; and during their stay at Putney it is found possible to ease them in their work, so as to bring them fresh and vigorous to the post on the day of the race. Supposing you have five weeks for practice, you ought, I think, during the first fortnight to row your crew over the racing course at least four times. During the next ten days one full course will be sufficient. The work of the last ten days must vary according to the condition of the men, but two half courses and one full course at a racing stroke will probably be found sufficient. Save for the rare case of an exceptionally long row, a practice of about an hour and a half every day is enough. At Henley all crews practise twice a day, but I do not think they spend more than two hours, if so much, on the water every day.

Rate of Stroke.

The practice rate for paddling ought not in the early stages to be less than twenty-eight to the minute, which you may raise two points when rowing hard. Later on, when your men are doing their rowing work at thirty-six or more, and when they are, or ought to be, well together, you may drop the rate of paddling to twenty-six or twenty-five, in order to give them periods of rest, and to instil into them that steadiness of swing which they are apt to neglect when engaged in the effort of working up the stroke to racing pace. For a course of a mile to a mile and a half, a crew should be able to start at forty, continue at thirty-eight, and, if necessary, finish at forty in the race. Even for the Putney to Mortlake course a crew ought to be able to command forty at a pinch. As a rule, however, over a four-mile course a crew will go quite fast enough if it starts for not more than a minute at thirty-seven to thirty-eight, and continues, in the absence of a head-wind at an average of thirty-five.[9] At Henley most crews will start off at forty-one to forty-two for the first minute, and continue at thirty-nine. Anything higher than this is dangerous, though on a course of two-thirds of a mile I have known a Four to row forty-six in the first minute with advantage.

[9] Against a head-wind the rate of stroke must be slower. A coach's instructions would be, "Swing down and reach out well, and swing hard back against the wind." A following wind makes a crew very unsteady, unless they remember that, since the pace of the boat is increased by the wind, they must catch the beginning sharper, to prevent the boat running away from them, and take their oars out even quicker and cleaner than before, in order to prevent the boat catching them up, as it were. Above all, they must keep the swing slow when they have a following wind.