Another sort of incubus is the old hand, who has never risen beyond mediocrity, who has plenty of faults, but who can be relied upon for a certain amount of honest work, and who fills a place better than some very backward oarsman. The old stager is case-hardened in his crimes; they are second nature to him, and, in spite of coaching, still he maunders on in the same old style, with the same set faults. He has a time-honoured screw, a dog's-eared elbow, and yet he possesses what many of the better-finished oarsmen do not--watermanship--and can keep on at work in a rolling boat when many neater oarsmen are all abroad if the ship gets off her even keel. Not to coach his too obvious faults may make visitors fancy that the old screw is a pattern fugleman to be copied for style; and yet to spend objurgation on one so stiff-necked is disheartening waste of wind. [Illustration: PROSE.] Discipline is all-important in a crew, and it usually requires tact to maintain it. If the captain is a triton among minnows, he can better afford to hector; but, as a rule, he runs the risk of mutiny, or at least of producing sulkiness, if he treats his crew as if they were galley-slaves. If he is in the boat, working with them, sharing their toils and privations, his task becomes easier on this score; for the crew realise that, however irksome the orders for the day may be, they are felt just as much by the commander as by the rank and file. If a member of the crew openly defies a captain, the bad example is too dangerous to be tolerated. To expel a mutineer may ruin the chance of victory for an impending race, but it will be best for the club in the long run, and will be likely to save many a defeat. The writer has in mind two such incidents which occurred to himself at different times while officiating as captain of a club. In each case the mutineer was the stroke, and the _spes gregis_. He resented being told to row slower, or faster, as the case might be, and presently flatly declined to be dictated to. In each case the boat was instantly ordered ashore, and the grumbler was asked to step out. His place was filled by some emergency man, he was left ashore, and was told at the end of the day that the captain regretted to be obliged to dispense with his services. In each case the rest of the crew buttonholed their late stroke, and put the screw upon him to beg pardon, and with success. The one stroke was reinstated at his old post; the other was also put back to the boat, but at No. 6. In both cases mutiny was stamped out once and for all. Of these two men it may be said that one eventually rose to be stroke of a winning University eight, and the other of a winning Grand Challenge crew. In each case they were great personal friends of the captain, and there was no interruption of social relations through the peremptory line of conduct pursued. Many old fellow-oarsmen of the writer will doubtless recognise these incidents, in which names are naturally omitted.