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DARTMOUTH COLLEGE

My first term at Dartmouth commenced on the 7th of May 1914—previously I had, of course, been through the regulation two years at Osborne College in the Isle of Wight.

Most of my term-mates came down from London by the special cadet train, and I should have greatly preferred to have travelled with them, but my home was so far away that I had to do the journey in solitary state, and when I arrived at Kingswear Station at 9.30 on that beautiful spring evening, I found myself a belated last comer.

A servant had been sent to meet me, and when he had collected my luggage we embarked on the Otter, one of the steamboats belonging to the College, which was lying alongside the pontoon. The passage of the river Dart only took a few minutes, and we landed at Sandquay, where are situated the engineering shops, in which no small proportion of my brief time at Dartmouth was destined to be spent. Compared with the collection of low, one-storied, bungalow-like buildings which comprise the Osborne premises, the College, standing high upon a hill above the river, appeared to me a very imposing structure, and pleasantly suggestive of a distinct advance towards the goal of my ambitions—a goal destined to be reached so swiftly, and by such unexpected paths, as I at that moment little dreamed of.

A long flight of stone steps leads up through the grounds from the workshops, and after climbing these I found myself in the big entrance-hall of the College, where I was met by a warrant officer, who took me to his office, and, after filing my health certificate, showed me the way to the vast mess-room where the five hundred or so of cadets in residence have all their meals. Here I had supper, consisting of cold meat and bread-and-cheese; and when I had finished, the gunner took me to my dormitory, pointed out my sea-chest and bed, and then left me to turn in.

By this time it was about 10.30, my messmates were all asleep, and the long room was only dimly illuminated by the “dead lights” which are kept burning all night, as no matches or candles are allowed. Removing my boots, I tiptoed round the chests adjoining mine to see by the nameplates who my immediate neighbours might be, and then, folding up my clothes in regulation fashion, I jumped into bed and was soon fast asleep.

At 6 o’clock next morning we were all awakened by the réveillé, and trooped down in a body to the bath-rooms for the cold plunge with which, unless excused by doctor’s orders, every cadet must begin the day. Then, having been informed by the senior cadets who were placed in authority over us that if we were not dressed in one and a half minutes the consequences would be unpleasant, we threw on as many clothes as possible, and ran out of the dormitory surreptitiously carrying boots, ties and collars, and finished dressing in the gun-room. Then we waited about, greeted friends, and exchanged reminiscences of the past “leave” until summoned to breakfast at 7.30.

This meal was served in the mess-room in which I had had my supper the night before, and we all scrambled and fought our way up some stairs to a gallery where were situated the four long tables reserved for the use of the junior term.

Breakfast over, the cadet captains (who correspond to the monitors of our public schools) showed us over the College grounds, and drew our attention to the various rules, regulations, and notices posted up at different points. We also paid a visit to the canteen, where may be purchased ices, buns, sweets, and similar delicacies dear to all schoolboys. As a more detailed description of my first day would not be particularly interesting, I will just describe one in mid-term as fairly typical of the College routine.

At 6 o’clock, roused by the réveillé, we scurry to the bath-room, take the prescribed cold plunge, and then dress. Hot cocoa and ship’s biscuit are served in the mess-room and followed by an hour’s study. At 7.30 “fall in” in the long corridor called the “covered way,” which leads from the dormitories to the mess-room. All the other terms having gone in to breakfast, our particular batch of cadets is called to “attention.” Then comes the order: “Right turn! Double march!”—and helter-skelter, as fast as we can lay foot to the ground, we rush along the hundred yards of corridor to the mess-room door and fight our way through that narrow opening. Woe betide the unfortunate who falls in the mêlée! He will get trampled on by all behind, and when finally he is able to rise to his feet, dazed and bruised, after the rush has gone by, he will be assisted on his way by the unsympathetic toes of the cadet captain’s boots. Moral: Keep your footing!

After a brief grace we fall to and devour porridge with brown sugar and fresh, creamy, Devon milk, rolls and butter, supplemented by kippers, bacon and eggs, or some similar fare.

As no grace is said after breakfast, each cadet is at liberty to leave as soon as he has finished, and to repair to his own gun-room until the bugle sounds for divisions at 9 o’clock. At the call we all “fall in” by terms in the big hall which is called the quarter-deck. The Lieutenant of each term then inspects his cadets and reports to the Commander that they are “correct,” after which the Commander in his turn reports the whole six terms to the Captain. Then the Chaplain comes in, the Commander calls all present to “attention,” and gives the order “Off caps.” The Padre gives out the number of some familiar hymn, and, after a few verses have been sung, he reads some short prayers.

Then caps are replaced, and, in obedience to the word of command, the respective terms in order of seniority march off to the studies.

Let it be supposed that my term has to go to the engineering works at Sandquay on this particular morning.

Procedure is as follows: “Divisions” over, we fall in on a path outside the College and the Engineer Lieutenant marches us down to the workshops. Dismissed from marching order we go into the lobby and shift into overalls, after which we repair in batches to the various shops. Here we construct and fit together parts of the many different types of marine engines; dealing in the process with such work as the casting, forging, and turning of steel and brass.

After two hours of this practical work we shift out of our overalls, resume our uniform jackets and caps, and go to one of the lecture-rooms where, for the remaining hour an engineer officer instructs us in the theory of motors, and turbines, and various other engineering technicalities. Then we are again fallen in outside the shops and marched up to the College, where we have a “break” of a quarter of an hour in which to collect the books required for the succeeding hour of ordinary school work.

One o’clock finds us once more assembled in the covered way to double along to the mess-room for lunch.

After this meal every one must stay in his place until grace is said, when each term rises in order of seniority and doubles out of the mess-room to the different gun-rooms.

It may be here noted that everything at Dartmouth is done at the “double,” i.e. at a run. Strolling around with your hands in your pockets after the fashion of most public schools is of course not allowed in an establishment where naval discipline prevails.

After half an hour allowed for digestion we collect our books and go to the studies for another two hours’ work.

At 4 o’clock we are mustered again for “quarters” as at “divisions” in the morning, and when dismissed double away to shift into flannels for recreation.

The choice of play and exercise is very varied, but no one is allowed to “loaf.” Every cadet must do what is called a “log,” and the manner in which he has spent his recreation time is duly entered against his name each day. The “log” in question may consist of a game of cricket, a two-mile row on the river, two hours’ practice at the nets followed by the swimming of sixty yards in the baths, or a set of tennis or fives.

Any cadet who cannot swim must learn without delay. The bath, eight feet deep at one end and three feet at the other, is thirty yards long. It is opened at 6 p.m., and there is always a large attendance. A spring board for diving is provided, as well as various ropes suspended six feet above the water by means of which the more agile spirits swing themselves along, as monkeys swing from tree to tree.

All exercise is purposely strenuous, for the four years’ preparation is a test of physical as much as of mental strength, and every year some boys are “chucked,” to their bitter disappointment, because they cannot attain to the standard of physical fitness indispensable for the work they, as naval officers, would be expected to perform. Defective eyesight is one of the commonest causes of rejection, for it is obvious that full normal vision is essential for the Navy.

On the river there is the choice of two kinds of boat—five-oared gigs and skiffs. A long and muddy creek, known as Mill Creek, branches off from the river just above the College. Great trees overhang its banks on either side and, if one cares to risk disobedience to orders, a very pleasant way of passing an afternoon is to tie up one’s boat in the shade and settle down with a book and some smuggled cigarettes. But it is well to remember that the tide here is very treacherous. Once I saw three cadets marooned on a mud-bank quite forty yards from the water’s edge.

At 6.30 every one must be within the College buildings, and by a quarter to 7 all cadets must have shifted into proper uniform and be ready for tea.

At 7.30 there is “prep.,” which lasts till 8.30, when the “cease fire” bugle sounds. Then the band plays on the quarter-deck, and there is dancing till 9, after which every one “falls in” for five minutes’ prayer. Then the terms double away to their dormitories. At 9.30 the Commander goes “rounds,” and every one must be in bed. As soon as he has passed lights are put out and the day is over.