Young Tom Bowling: The Boys of the British NavyHutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
General
Young Tom Bowling: The Boys of the British Navy
Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
Instead of living higgledy-piggledy in some close room with half a dozen
others, as many poor boys have to do, and little or nothing to eat and
that only at haphazard, while in the majority of cases his clothing will
be none of the best, being more holey than pious; the same boy on
entering the _Saint Vincent_ finds himself at once well fed, well
clothed, and with clean and roomy quarters to breathe in!
There is the discipline, to be sure, and that's where the shoe pinches
with the free Arab of the slums; but, in addition to the discipline, it
should be recollected there is also the instruction in various things
that nine boys out of ten look upon rather as pleasurable games than so
many tasks.
Besides this, they have real games in their play-hours aboard and in the
recreation-ground at Haslar; and, besides, are allowed ashore once a
week at least, to see their friends and relatives, if these live in the
neighbourhood, having pocket-money given them to enjoy themselves with--
more than they can say they ever had in their life on land.
Then there are the `sports' which the _Saint Vincent_ boys have every
year at midsummer, before the breaking-up for their holidays, when
swimming races, boat races, egg-and-spoon races, and all sorts of
jollities are all the go.
But, there I am again, hauling my jawing tackle aboard according to the
old Bowling family propensity, anent which mother used always to rate
father; so, I must belay!
Pulling steadily away from the old ship on the stream which was running
up the harbour, making this appear one vast lake up to Fareham Creek
under the base of the Portsdown hills, a lake whereon floated long lines
of old hulks of the past, interspersed with many a specimen of the newer
models of the present ships of the Navy, the cutter at last landed us at
the foot of the King's Stairs; when, unshipping our bags and shouldering
them again, we crossed the dockyard in single file, under charge of a
petty officer, making for the guardship to which we had been drafted,
which was lying alongside the North Wall, not far from the _Excellent_.
Our tramp was a most fatiguing one over the rough pigs of iron ballast
arranged like cobble-stones, which some chap must have had put down in
order to benefit his bootmaker, the pilgrimage of folk anxious to see
the yard being rather trying on shoe-leather.
We felt it all the more from having been accustomed to go in our bare
feet on board the training-ship, and boots in themselves being irksome,
without the hard road we had to travel adding to the penance.
Ascending the ladder-way that led up from the jetty to the deck of the
old _Asia_, the guardship, we were soon allotted our billets; and
quickly settled down to the routine of the ship, which, of course, was
very different to that of the _Saint Vincent_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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