There were other infringements – most memorably, ‘Did as Cadet Captain allow some of the Cadets to humbug Mr Poynter Chief Capt. in the Sanctuary, and did also take part in annoying him’ – but there is not much here to alarm anyone who has ever been to a boarding school, and still less to suggest the delicate child of Barrie legend. From time to time the Britannia regime or some bullying scandal would make the national newspapers, but if it always tottered on the edge of bullying, it was probably no different from any other school in Victorian life or fiction.
There was a lighter side to Britannia life, too, and if there was little privacy, there was the band and dancing in the evenings, the playing fields, the tennis and racquets courts, the ship’s beagles, and Totnes and the freedom of the river on summer half-holidays. On these occasions the cadets would be given hampers of food and lemonade and ginger beer, and after rowing upstream past the Anchor Stone in the middle of the Dart where Raleigh had smoked his pipe, would swim and watch the salmon-netting before drifting back downstream in the evening, tying up among a small flotilla of boats behind the Totnes pleasure steamer while trippers threw them cakes.
There are no surviving letters of Scott’s from Britannia – nothing to suggest that he was there except the memorial in the chapel erected by his term – but for a fourteen-year-old grandson of a despised ship’s purser, anonymity itself was a victory.* It is no coincidence that the future Earl Beatty was a failure there, but if Scott’s aim was assimilation he could not have done it better, coming out of Britannia the average product of an average term in a system designed to produce the average – tenth of his term in his first exams, sixth at the end of his second and eighth in the third, with a numbing catalogue of ‘Satisfactories’ and ‘Very Satisfactories’ relieved only by a brace of ‘Fairs’ and one ‘Unsatisfactory’ in French.
His final examinations in July 1883 followed the same pattern. He scored a total of 1,457, coming sixth in Mathematics, ninth in Extra Subjects, thirteenth in seamanship, and seventh overall in a term of twenty-six. He passed out with First Class Certificates in Mathematics and Seamanship, and a Second in Extra Subjects. Of a possible year’s sea-time – to count against the time needed, in the slow grind of promotion, to qualify for his lieutenant’s exams – he was allowed eleven months. His ‘Attention Paid to Study’ was rated ‘Very Moderate’, his abilities ‘Very Good’, and his conduct ‘as noted on Cadet’s Certificate in Captain’s own writing’, also ‘Very Good’.
He would have looked at those before him in the list and those below and seen nothing either to fear or to hope. Four years before him there had been Jellicoe, the year behind him Beatty, but there were no stars in his term. There were any number of future admirals there, and fourteen out of the twenty-six would make the crucial step of post-captain, but there was no one except Scott himself whose name would ever reach the wider public. None of this, though, helped. Without money, without ‘interest’, without a naval pedigree, without a war to fight, he was ready for that gentlemanly anonymity the Outlands Scotts had been aiming at.
The Naval Salute is made by bringing up the right hand to the cap or hat, naturally and smartly, but not hurriedly, with the thumb and fingers straight and close together, elbow in line with the shoulder, hand and forearm in line, the thumb being in line with the outer edge of the right elbow, with the palm of the hand being turned to the left, the opposite being the case when using the left hand …
Should a Petty Officer or man be standing about, and an officer pass him, he is to face the officer and salute; if sitting when an officer approaches, he is to rise, stand at attention, and salute. If two or more Petty Officers or men are sitting or standing about, the Senior Petty Officer or man will call the whole to attention and he alone will salute.
Manual of Seamanship (1908)
I have never realized to such an extent the truth that ‘familiarity breeds contempt’ as this last year during which I have seen a little of the inside of the ‘Royal Navy’, God help it.
Edward Wilson, diary, 18 August 1902
IT IS IMPOSSIBLE to understand Scott’s character or the expeditions he led unless it is remembered that from the age of thirteen until his death at forty-three, his whole life was led within this world. In everything but name Discovery and Terra Nova were naval expeditions, and nothing in their triumphs or failures, in the process of decision-making or the centralisation of control, in the cult of man-hauling or the chivalric traditions of sledging, in the relationships of its members with each other, of ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’, of navy and civilian, navy and scientist, navy and soldier, navy and merchant service and even navy and navy – wardroom and mess deck, executive and engineering – makes any sense unless seen against the background of the world that had closed round Scott when he entered Britannia.
For any boy joining Britannia at this time, as a novel based on Scott’s life put it, there was a weight of history and expectation that was both a burden and an inspiration. The origins of the Royal Navy in anything like its modern form date back to the seventeenth century, but it was in the 120 years after the Glorious Revolution of 1688, and the long series of wars with France that established Britain as a world power, that its traditions, reputation and special place in the national life were set in stone.
From the St Lawrence River to the Indian Ocean, from the West Indies to the Mediterranean, from the Baltic to the Southern Atlantic, the navy saw active service, carried out sieges, supported amphibious operations, fought fleet actions, defended Britain’s trade routes, and acted as a potent instrument of diplomacy. During this period there were certainly some spectacular reverses, but in the almost continuous years of warfare that followed on the War of Jenkins’ Ear in 1739 – the navy was fighting for fifty out of the next seventy-five years – a tradition of professionalism, brotherhood, mutual confidence, experience, aggression, courage, flare and independence was created that reached its apogee in the charismatic genius of Nelson. ‘An Englishman enters a naval action with the firm conviction that his duty is to hurt his enemies and help his friends without looking out for directions in the middle of the fight,’ wrote a Spanish observer after the battle of Cape St Vincent in 1797, in which Nelson had displayed just these qualities,
and while he thus clears his mind of all subsidiary distractions, he rests in confidence on the certainty that his comrades, actuated by the same principles as himself, will be bound by the sacred and priceless law of mutual support. Accordingly, both he and all his fellows fix their minds on acting with zeal and judgement on the spur of the moment, and with the certainty that they will not be deserted. Experience shows, on the contrary, that a Frenchman or a Spaniard, working under a system which leans to formality and strict order being maintained in battle, has no feeling for mutual support, and goes into action with hesitation, preoccupied with the anxiety of seeing the commander-in-chief’s signals, for such and such manoeuvres.
Nelson, Collingwood, Jervis, Duncan, Rodney, Hawke, Howe – Trafalgar, the Nile, Cape St Vincent, Camperdown, Quiberon Bay, the Glorious First of June – these were names and battles that still held their place in the popular imagination in the Victorian age, and if the nineteenth-century navy could not match them, that was not entirely its fault. The defeat of Napoleon in 1815 had left Britain as the sole global power and her navy in undisputed possession of the seas, and in the ‘long calm lee of Trafalgar’ it was inevitable that her role would change from that of the fighting force that had won Britain’s eighteenth-century