(Some Hints to Novice Coxswains.)
By G. L. Davis,
Cox of the Cambridge Eight, 1875-79; Cox of Leander, 1880-85.
Many people think that any one, provided he be of the proper weight, is fitted to fill the post of coxswain.
Nobody, however, knows better than the actual rowing man what an amount of useless labour and irritation a crew can be saved by possessing a good man in the stern, not to mention the assistance he can afford both directly and indirectly in getting a crew together. Certainly a mere tiro, having acquired the elementary knowledge that if he pulls the right rudder-line he will turn his boat to starboard, i.e. to the right, and that if he pulls his left line he will turn her to port, i.e. to the left, may be able to guide a boat sufficiently well for ordinary purposes; but even in the period of training a crew, and still more so in the race, there is undoubtedly plenty of scope for a clever coxswain to distinguish himself. There is no royal road to good steering. Pains and perseverance are necessary, as in every other branch of athletics. The attainment of perfection in steering is not all that is requisite; there are many other qualities added to this skill which combine to make a coxswain worthy to be reckoned in the front rank—a position which all coxswains should aim for.
In the days of Tom Egan the steerer had to act as coach to his crew, but nowadays he is no longer called upon to do so. He is, in the first place, chosen on account of his light weight; but eligible though he may be in this respect, he is too often quite incapable in other ways of performing his duties. Should this be the case, a crew would be well advised in carrying a few more pounds, or even a stone or two extra, if by so doing they manage to gain an able and experienced coxswain. There are certain qualities which are absolutely essential in the right sort. He should have light hands, judgment, a cool head, and plenty of nerve to enable him to keep his presence of mind in the face of a sudden predicament or unforeseen danger. There are numberless occasions both in practice and during races when risks are run. A boat laden with pleasure-seekers may suddenly pop out from the bank into the course. The coolness of the coxswain may avert very much more serious consequences than the loss of a stroke or two, such as a broken rigger or an injury to an oarsman, by a touch of the rudder and a ready appeal to his crew to mind their oars.
During a University Boat Race, in which I was steering the Cambridge Boat, a waterman's wherry, with two or three occupants, was suddenly pulled out from the Surrey shore at a short distance above Hammersmith Bridge. The course at this point lies somewhat near to the bank, and the Oxford Boat was nearly level with mine. The wherry was directly in my way, and, as far as I could make out, those who were in it seemed to be in doubt as to whether they should row still further out or make for the shore. If I went to the right, a foul was imminent with the Oxford Boat; if to the left, I should have got into slack water and lost ground by the dÉtour. There was no time for those in the wherry to waste in making up their minds, so I promptly made straight for them with the object of driving them out of my course. The desired effect followed. They got sufficient way on in the direction of the shore to enable me to steer straight on and clear them. My action involved the ticklish question of judgment of distance and of pace, namely, should I reach the spot before the wherry was clear; and this anecdote illustrates my point—that quickness in making up the mind, and, when it is made up, in acting, is essential to a coxswain.
The duties of a coxswain consist of many and varied details. To make a smart crew, attention should be paid to discipline both in and out of the boat, and he can and ought to further this object to the utmost of his power, thereby saving the coach or captain a great deal of trouble. If the coxswain of a light eight-oared racing ship has been ordered to get her into the water, he ought to be there to superintend the order being carried out. He should bid his crew "stand by" their riggers, and see that each man is in readiness to lift and carry her to the water's edge. There is generally a waterman at hand, but whether there is or not, the coxswain should be ready, if necessary, to remove any stool upon which the ship may have been resting, so as to prevent any stumbling on the part of his men. His place is near the rudder (unless she is launched stern foremost, when, of course, it would be impossible), to prevent any injury happening to it, until the boat is safely in the water. He will then get the oarsmen into her in an orderly manner. There is necessity for this, for otherwise the boat's back may be strained. This might occur by allowing stroke and bow to get in first, owing to a boat of such length and lightness of build being supported in the centre and at the same time weighted at each end. The best order for the men to take their places is, 4, 5, 3, 6, 2, 7, bow, and then stroke. The coxswain should call out their numbers one by one, holding the boat firmly whilst they take their seats, and on no account allow more than one man to get in at the same time. In disembarking, it is part of his duty to see that the crew leave the ship in the reverse order. The coxswain seats himself in the aftermost thwart perfectly upright, with his legs crossed tailor-fashion, and takes up the rudder-lines one in each hand; and, before he gives any command, should see that his steering gear is in proper order. It is a common and useful custom for the purpose of preventing the hand from slipping, to have attached to each line a piece of wood of about three to four inches in length, and one and a half in circumference, called a tug. These the coxswain clasps tightly, one in each hand. Some coxswains hold their rudder-lines in front of the body, others behind; but in my opinion the best place to hold them is by the side, with the hands resting one on each gunwale. The coxswain, by thus supporting himself, can better preserve a firm and steady seat. He should never slip about on his seat, but always keep his body as nearly as possible erect, and balanced from his hips. He must on no account roll with the boat, and should endeavour to prevent himself being moved to and fro by the action of the rowers. Often a narrow strip of wood is nailed to the seat the better to enable him to sit firm. The lines must be kept taut, and tied together in front of him, lest by any accident he should lose one or both overboard. After having shoved off and paddled into position, he should see that the bows of his boat point straight for the course he wishes to steer. He will then start his crew by calling upon them to "get ready," when they will divest themselves of any superfluous clothing and make any other necessary preparations. He will then say "Forward!" or "Forward all!" for them to come forward in readiness for the first stroke. He should now take care that his boat is level, and should tell the oarsmen on the side to which she may list to raise their hands, or call upon the crew to get her level. After that he asks, "Are you ready?" as a final warning, and lastly cries, "Row!" or "Paddle!" as may be required. Some other forms are employed, but this is as good as any, and better than most, and the same words should always be used when once adopted. In the event of a crew making a bad start, they should be at once stopped and restarted. If the coxswain be desirous for his crew to stop rowing or paddling, "Easy all!" is the term to use, and this order should be given almost immediately after the commencement of a stroke, to prevent the rowers coming forward for the next one. In case it may be necessary to bring his boat up sharp, he will say, "Hold her up all!"[12] and if (at any time) there is any danger of the oars touching anything, he should cry, "Mind your oars, bow side," or "stroke side," as the case may be. The boat is ordinarily turned on the port (left) side by calling upon bow and No. 3 to paddle, and stroke and No. 6 to back water, or back, for brevity; and on the starboard (right) side by calling upon Nos. 2 and 4 to paddle, and Nos. 5 and 7 to back. In each case the coxswain naturally assists with the rudder. When turning a racing ship, for fear of weakening her, the paddling and rowing should not take place simultaneously.
[12] This is the term used at Cambridge, where "Hold her" is also used with the same meaning. At Oxford, "Hold her up" means "Paddle on gently;" and "Hold her all," or "Stop her all," would be the order if a sudden stoppage were required. To carry out such an order the rowers turn the blades flat on the water, and raise their hands quickly, thus burying blades in the water.
Whatever the coxswain addresses to his crew should be spoken clearly and distinctly, so that all may hear without difficulty. The preceding instructions comprise most of the everyday terms that a coxswain should know.
Now let me turn to his functions of a semi-coaching character, of keeping his crew in time. Whether the crew are rowing or paddling, he must carefully watch the time of the oars, both as they catch the water and leave it. If the oarsman catches the water too soon, he should be told not to hurry; if too late, he should be told, "You're late." If he leaves it too soon, or, as it is called, clips his stroke at the finish, he should be told to finish it out, etc. (but if an oarsman finishes it after the stroke, I cannot advise the coxswain to take notice of it). All these semi-coaching remarks, if I may so call them, should be prefaced with the number of the crew to whom they are addressed, for the purpose of calling his attention, and must be used with judgment and tact, for nothing can be more aggravating, not to say maddening, to an oarsman at any time, more especially when fagged in a race, to hear incessantly the possibly high-pitched and monotonous tones of a coxswain. There is only one fault that will excuse him shouting himself hoarse, if he be so disposed, and it is the fault, or rather vice, of one of the crew looking out of the boat; and he should at once cry, "Eyes in the boat!" and continue to do so until he is obeyed. There are certain acts of watermanship which an efficient coxswain will not neglect to carry out, namely, when turning to come down-stream, to swing his boat round by pulling her head outwards into the current; and, on the other hand, when turning to proceed up-stream, to thrust her nose into the slack water inshore, and allow her stern to come round in the same manner; and always to bring his boat in to the raft or landing-stage with her head pointing up-stream.
There is no need for me to set out the rules of the road for a coxswain to follow, as they can be read at any time in the Rowing Almanack, which comes out annually, and is published at the Field office.
To steer a straight course, a coxswain should fix upon a high and conspicuous object some distance ahead, and endeavour to keep the nose of his boat dead on it; and when learning his course, he should remember to choose objects of a permanent nature, or in the race he will be in difficulties. Now, the keeping of a straight course is not so simple as it appears; in fact, it is a most difficult thing to do properly, and there is no case in which the advantage of a coxswain with light hands is better displayed. It will be noticed that such a one leaves scarcely a ripple in his wake, whilst another will leave a considerable wash. The reason of it is this: that whilst the former uses practically no rudder, the latter, by first pulling one line and then the other, causes the stern of his boat to swing from side to side, until, as the sailors say, she becomes wild—that is to say, so unsteady that the further she travels the more rudder she will require to prevent her bows from yawing and to keep her course. He should never steer for a curve in the bank or for other projections—as, for instance, the buttress of a bridge—in such a manner as to be compelled to sheer out to clear them. He should approach a sharp corner as wide as possible, in order to reduce the acuteness of the angle at which he will have to take it, and should have the boat's head round by the time that the axis or pivot, if I may use the term, on which the boat swings, and which in the eight-oared boats I steered was usually trimmed to be somewhere between the seats of Nos. 4 and 5, is off the most prominent point.
The difficulty of taking this sort of corner is increased when the course lies up-stream, according to the strength of the current; for not only does the current acting on the bows tend to prevent the boat coming round, but also to drive her head towards the opposite bank. When the Cam at Cambridge is in flood, "Grassy" and Ditton are corners of this character, but usually that river runs sluggishly. But even then these corners present many difficulties. "Grassy" is on the right bank of the river, and therefore on the coxswain's left; Ditton is on his right. The former is the harder to manipulate properly, by reason of the river becoming a narrow neck shortly before the corner is reached.
In taking "Grassy," the coxswain should keep close to the tow-path bank until he commences to make the turn. It is impossible to explain on paper the exact spot when he should do so. The common fault is to begin too soon. Practice and experience only can teach him when to time his action correctly; but having acquired this knowledge, he will get his boat round with but a moderate amount of rudder, especially if he call upon bow and No. 3 for a little extra assistance.
Some years ago, during the Lent Term Bumping Races at Cambridge, the coxswain of one of the boats, with the intention of cutting off the preceding one as it was being steered round in the correct way, took this very corner close to the inside bend at its very commencement, and in so doing acted contrary to the principle of giving a sharp corner a wide berth at the first part. The consequence was that, having failed to calculate the pace at which the other was travelling, and having missed his bump, he found it impossible to bring his boat round, ran high and dry on to the opposite bank, and was, of course, himself bumped.
Ditton should be approached as wide as the coxswain can manage, by hugging the opposite bank until he begins to bring the boat's head round, which, as in the case of Grassy, should not be done until as late as possible. Here, too, Nos. 2 and 4 may be called upon to help her round. The rudder should be put on between the strokes as a rule, gradually, and not with a jerk, which has a tendency to cause the boat to roll. It should be used as lightly as possible, and never under ordinary circumstances put hard on. The effect of a cross wind is to drive the stern of a boat to leeward, and to bring her bows up into the wind. This should be counteracted by the coxswain steering to windward of his usual course, and by lee rudder to meet her: how much can only be learnt by experience, and must be regulated by the strength of the wind. The fin, which is a thin plate of metal fixed slightly abaft the coxswain's seat on her keelson, is of great assistance in keeping the boat straight under such circumstances.
The coxswain should pick up information relating to his course by observation, inquiries, and in every way he can, and, previous to a race, he should take careful stock of the direction and force of the wind, and shape his course accordingly. It is a good plan to be taken over the course either in a row-boat or launch, by some one acquainted with it, for the purposes of instruction. He can gain a general idea of the Putney to Mortlake course by watching the barges which float up and down the river with the tide, and are kept in mid-stream by long sweeps. But every coxswain should learn to scull; he can then not only get his weight down by exercise, if required, but familiarize himself with the set of the stream, flats, and other peculiarities of a course by actual experience. Training for the purpose of reducing the weight of the coxswain is a questionable expedient; but if practised with moderation, and if natural means are employed, the object, if worth it—which I very much doubt—may be attained, and little harm done; but weakness, the result of excessive wasting, is not unfrequently accompanied with an impaired judgment and loss of nerve, the absence of which may lead to serious consequences. Moreover, a coxswain not only requires a certain amount of physical strength to manage a boat of the length of an eight-oar, but, to do himself justice, should come to the post feeling full of energy and determination. In level races the coxswain of the leading boat should never take his opponents' water, unless reasonably certain that he cannot be overtaken, for a sudden sheer out involving loss of pace and ground at a critical time has before now lost a race; and when alongside, and in close proximity, he should avoid watching the other boat, otherwise he will in all probability steer into it, such is the apparent force of attraction exercised over a coxswain by the opposing crew. One coxswain should not "bore" the other. Boring is the act of one coxswain steering closer and closer to another until he gradually succeeds in pushing him out of his own water. This cannot take place when both coxswains engaged are equally skilful, and equally well acquainted with the course, for neither will give way. At the best it is not sportsmanlike, and there is no desire on the part of the majority of rowing men to win a race by the trickery of the coxswains. At the annual University Boat Race Dinner, when the old Blues and other friends assemble to do honour to the two crews, it is the time-honoured custom to drink the health of the coxswains. On one of these occasions, a well-known Oxford coxswain, who, in the fog that prevailed at the start of the race, had been pressed out of his course by the opposing crew, in returning thanks made a witty allusion to the subject in these words: "I have been," he said, "very much interested in this race, but I have also been very much bored." It was a speech meant for the occasion, and was received with the applause it deserved; but it was not meant seriously, nor was it taken so by his equally well-known Cambridge rival.
I may at this point give a word of advice to a coxswain in a Bumping Race. He should, throughout the race, keep his true course, and not follow any vagaries of the boat in front of him, except with the immediate object of making his bump; he must never shoot for his bump when going round a corner, and ought always to make sure of his position before making a shot, so as not to waste the energy of his men by missing time after time, and zigzagging across the river. When he has been bumped, or has made a bump, he should at once clear out of the way to make room for the boats following. In all races he should encourage his crew at intervals with such expressions as, "Now, you fellows! Well rowed! On to it!" etc. But an incessant flow of language not only sounds ridiculous, but must be a nuisance to the crew themselves. In a ding-dong race, however, when neither crew can get away from the other, he will naturally urge them more strenuously to further exertions. He should watch the time as carefully as in practice, and call upon his crew to "Reach out," or "Keep it long," if he notices that they are getting short and scratchy; and he may quietly keep the stroke posted up in the doings of the opponents, telling him how they are rowing, how far ahead they are, and so on. In training quarters, especially if the crew are despondent, the more depressed they are, the more he should endeavour to cheer them up and inspire confidence in them.
Finally, let me advise coxswains when steering to wear warm and waterproof clothing in cold and wet weather, and thus possibly save themselves much suffering from rheumatism and other complaints in after-life.
