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“LIGHTS OUT, NO
TALKING” |
THE NEW
BOY |
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After the long walk from the station, - it is one and three quarter miles - the last few yards of the drive, downhill to the terrace were easy. From the cool slope of the drive, shaded from the afternoon sun by the dense woods on our left, the ground levelled out. As we followed the sharp right hand bend of the drive, the road was now more clearly defined as being about thirty feet wide, with a huge stone parapet on our left, and the school building on our right. Once we had cleared the corner of the building, the atmosphere changed completely. From the cool of the shaded drive, we walked into the full glare of the afternoon sun. The heat reflected from the asphalt of the terrace was considerable. The terrace ran the full length of the school building. I would guess its length as being about four hundred feet. The terrace was bounded on either side by substantial iron railings, about five feet high. After the coarse gritty surface of the drive way, the smooth surface of the terrace was a pleasure to walk on. With the main building of the school rising three storeys sheer to our right, and with my thoughts as mentioned earlier about huge buildings, bars, and warders still in my mind, it was all very overpowering. Looking to our left - as I hurried to keep up with Mr.Smith - I noticed that beyond the railings, the ground fell away steeply. Through the railings, I could see a squat, white metal structure which I later learned was the Nore Lighthouse. Beyond the lighthouse was the brown water of the Bristol Channel. Beyond that again, but obviously several miles - and now another world - away was the land mass of South Wales and Monmouthshire. In the middle of the Channel, and about three points off our starboard bow, (as Sid Goodman so matter-of-factly located it), could be seen the peculiar landmark known as Denny Island. We thought it peculiar in that it's shape was so symmetrical, that it looked man made. Many of us thought it might have been an exhaust outlet for the Severn Tunnel. Nothing so romantic, as far as I am aware, it is a natural outcrop of rock of which little else was known to us. The farthest end of the terrace from us was bounded by the Captain's House, which was built at right angles to the main school building, and to which it was adjoined. On the left of the terrace, and spaced at equal distances from the centre of the school, were two wooden lifeboats which helped to generate a 'Nautical' atmosphere. Each boat rested on wooden chocks, which served to keep it upright, and sat beneath boat davits, as if ready to be swung out should the need arise. The iron railings on the seaward side of the boats had been discontinued, and their place taken by chains suspended across the gap. All of this looked very nautical, but I was soon to discover that the boats had been there for so long, that the timber was quite rotted away, and any attempt to move them would have meant their immediate disintegration. About half way along the terrace, was the main entrance to the school. Just as the main edifice had looked quite imposing, so too, did the main entrance with its large, sandstone block portico rising about to about twelve feet above the ground. At the top of the arch was a large ornamental shield, also carved in sandstone. The shield was divided into four parts, with one number of the year '1905' in each part. Sitting atop the sandstone arch on the left, and reclining on a huge fish, was King Neptune complete with trident. On the right was a figure which I at first took to be Britannia, complete with spear, lion, and union jack shield. It was not until some time later that I came to realise that 'Britannia' had a bare chest, and that Victorian England would hardly depict such a Regal lady with bare bosoms, - especially in a boys school! I can only surmise in my ignorance that he was meant to depict a Lieutenant of King Neptune. The actual doors were huge wooden structures, probably oak, and about eight feet in height, each suspended by three pairs of brass hinges, the bottom two pairs of which were brightly polished - the top hinge, being out of reach of even the most enterprising boy, was left unpolished. I was to get to know the main entrance very well in the years to come. For some time, it became my cleaning station! Immediately opposite the main entrance, the railings were again interrupted where two sets of stone steps went down to the playing fields below. In between the steps was a huge stone parapet with two castellations from which two ancient cannons faced defiantly out across the Bristol Channel towards Wales. The cannons were cast iron, black, and mounted on two wooden trolleys, which, like the boats, had been in place for so long, that any attempt to move them - none was made in the three years I was there - would almost certainly have been met with disaster. Between the two cannons, and leaning over the parapet, a white flagpole displayed the blue ensign. A few feet on the school side of the cannons was a wooden dais on which was mounted a stout white wooden frame from which, in turn, was suspended a large bell. Across the front of the bell, and in raised letters, was the word 'FORMIDABLE'. Above the bell, was a rectangle of timber upon which had been affixed the words 'FEAR GOD, HONOUR THE KING' Surrounding the bell, almost like a penalty area on a football pitch, was a white line, - it formed three sides of a rectangle, the bell platform making up the fourth side. The line was about four inches wide, and was my introduction to one of the many 'where not to tread' areas. Stood somewhat forlornly, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back in the 'at ease' position, was the first boy I saw there. He was dressed in white shorts, and a white sailor-suit jumper. I was mystified to note that the traditional three narrow white lines were missing from the collar. I was further mystified - and not a little surprised - to see that he had no socks on, and huge boots with no laces. I thought that he must be performing some duty or other, the intricacies of which, I would be shown in due course. I later learned that he was in fact, under punishment for having run away from the school. As part of his punishment, he had been made to stand where I had seen him, during all his leisure time. The oversize boots with no laces, were to discourage any further attempts to run away. It was at this time I realised that I could hear, but not see, boys playing in the fields below. I looked up at the clock tower. The gilt hands, on the large black face showed that the time was four fifty. Mr.Smith walked through the main entrance, and I followed. Once inside the building, my eyes had to readjust to the darker conditions after the brilliance of the sunlit terrace. The high ceiling and hard, tiled floor, made things seem so much louder and bigger probably than they actually were. After the relative 'domestic' atmosphere of Cherry Street, this place seemed so hard and 'institutional'. To me, it was all so intimidating. I was overwhelmed by feelings of awe and loneliness. I could hear the shouts of boys, much louder now, echoing in the huge building. We turned sharp right, and came face to face with the second boy I was to see there. He was dressed in khaki shirt and shorts, with grey stockings, and black pumps. At least, I called them pumps. That was the term used in Lancashire for sand shoes. I was soon to learn to call them 'daps'. Around his right arm was a black arm band with the initials 'QM' in large red letters affixed to it. This stood for Quartermaster, and he was on duty. They had obviously been expecting us. 'This way sir.' The Quartermaster directed Mr. Smith into a small office, again to our right, and overlooking the terrace. Through the window, I could see the unfortunate boy standing on the white line. We went into the office, through a small counter with a half drop leaf that was open, and I stood facing Mr.Tebbit. Momentarily ignoring me, Mr.Tebbit and Mr.Smith exchanged handshakes, papers, and signatures. All, no doubt, relating to the safe delivery of myself into the hands of the duty officer at that time, and on that date. After a few more pleasantries, Mr.Smith turned to me and said: 'Goodbye Gordon, behave yourself, and I'm sure you will do well here.' No handshake, he walked out through the door. Through the window, I watched him as he disappeared from sight, along the terrace, the way we had come in, only moments before. He really was my last connection with home, and I could feel my lower lip trembling as he left. Mr.Tebbit, being a retired Petty Officer from the Royal Navy, was dressed in white trousers, white shirt, black tie, and white peaked cap with RN badge over the shiny peak. This was the summer uniform as worn by the several officers there who were also retired petty officers from the Royal Navy. Mr.Tebbit had obviously seen
all this many times before. He had a red face, and looked quite fierce.
However, he was not unkindly. He looked at the papers on the roll top desk
and said to the Quartermaster. On the desk was a day journal, in which my arrival had been recorded. There was also another ledger type book in which I could see my name, being the last entry, and a number that was to become my 'Big' number whilst I was in the school, it was 544. The QM returned with another
boy who stood to attention in front of Mr.Tebbit. During the time I had been in the office, I had heard the flat, toneless chimes of the clock in the central tower striking five. I had also heard a bugle call ring out, both inside the building, and outside. There had been a loud buzz of voices, then relative quiet. 'Right Bird, sounds like they've all gone in for tea. Cut along now and show Sollors where he is to sit - Sollors, you can leave those things in here whilst you are at tea, and put them in your locker afterwards.' He was referring to the paper bag I was carrying, containing the chocolate I had brought with me, and the comic which Mr.Smith had bought me during the journey. I left them both on his desk. We left the Regulating Office, turning right in the main corridor. A few paces along, and we came to a pair of green swing doors. We went through the doors and into the dining hall. Immediately I became aware of the subdued murmur of voices. The hall itself was about one hundred feet long, and about thirty feet wide. Running length ways were four tables, two on each side of the hall. Each table was about thirty five feet long with boys sat on benches along each side, and a boy at each end of the table. This was the first time I had seen all of the boys together. They all looked alike in their khaki shirts and shorts. I think the closer confines of the dining hall, together with the presence of the boys, and possibly even the smell of food (although I wasn't feeling particularly hungry) to some extent, helped to counteract that feeling of awe and loneliness I had experienced when I had first entered the building. Whatever it was, I certainly felt better within myself as I entered the dining hall for the first time. We walked to the centre of the hall. On our left, and about halfway down the hall, there was a hatch in the wall through which I could see kitchen like equipment. That was the galley. At the galley, we turned right in between the two sets of tables. There was a short pair of steps against the wall, at the top of the steps, and sitting on a windowsill, was an officer. Bird took me to him, told him who I was, and that I had been allocated to number four division. The officer indicated a place on his left at the table nearest the window. There were two vacant places. They were obviously prepared for us. Bird led the way and pulled back a bench - there were two other boys sat on it, but they quickly made room for us. We sat down, pulling the wooden bench into the table, and I was introduced to my first meal at the National Nautical School . Not unnaturally I was the focal point of quite a bit of attention. I was the new boy, colloquially, the 'fresh 'un'. I was still in my 'civilian' clothes, and one or two of the more realistic boys close to where we were sitting rightly guessed that the new kid would not be feeling like eating all that was in front of him - not that it was very much. How right they were! However, Bird had also anticipated the same thing, and let the non too subtle enquirers know in no uncertain terms that what I didn't eat, he would! I can't remember what that particular meal consisted of on that particular day. The standard fare for tea - as the meal was known - was two, and sometimes three slices of bread, known for ever after as dorks, a pat of butter, (probably margarine) and 'whatever it was for tea'. I soon learned that dorks were the equivalent of hard currency. Most things that are valuable to boys in that situation could be bought for dorks. Mostly it was in return for the loan of comics, or toys, and items of that nature. To wash all this tempting fare down, we were given a mug of tea, known colloquially as 'booze'. This was the only item of which there was seconds. Booze was served by the boys who were designated as cooks. It was served from large bulbous, enamelled jugs shaped something like an oversized Victorian ewer. It's taste was beyond my powers of description, but it was always hot, and complemented 'whatever it was for tea.' Seconds were rarely rejected. When the meal was finished,
the officer in charge called for silence, and then; At this stage, the officer made certain announcements as to what activities would be taking place that night, this usually involved the allocation of sports gear where appropriate, the use of the gymnasium - or not. In summer, all boys were expected to remain outdoors for as long as possible. We were still in summer mode, so it was to be outdoor activities until seven thirty, when we would be called in for supper, which would be at eight o'clock. 'Right - turn to face the door, and file out QUIETLY.' It was at this point that the boys who had been sat at the ends of the tables took over. They were Leading Boys, Petty Officers, or Chief Petty Officers, and often took over the duties of keeping order amongst the boys. On emerging from the dining
hall, Bird took me back to the regulating office. I was given a key to one
of the small wooden lockers in the gym, into which Bird advised me to put
my chocolate and comic 'Before the 'sharks' get their hands on them.'
Having secured these items, we then went up to the top floor to the linen
room where a bundle of clothes, wrapped in a towel had been left for me to
pick up. Being left on my own, and being in the water anyhow, was a good opportunity for me to 'open the flood gates' for a few minutes, thereby getting some of the homesickness out of my system. The school clothes consisted of linen underpants, khaki shirt, khaki shorts, grey socks with two coloured bands around the tops - in my case, yellow, denoting Number Four Division - and a khaki handkerchief. The khaki shorts were kept up by a strong blue elasticised, and adjustable belt with a hook where normally one would see a buckle. These belts were known as cricket belts, and it was on to the buckle of this, that I was advised to attach the key to my locker, thus making sure that it stayed close to me at all times.. Every item of clothing had a piece of white tape sewn into it with one's linen number stencilled on to the white tape. Other items like daps and belts had one's number stencilled directly onto them in either white or black paint. Boots and toothbrushes had our number stamped into them with metal number stamps. There was just no excuse for either loosing gear, or wearing someone else's. There should have been a pair of black sand shoes, - known in the school as 'daps', but they, along with other items of clothes were issued from the main store, and would not be available until tomorrow. In the meantime, I was to wear my own shoes, which as it happened were new shoes my mother had bought for me to go to court in! 'Washyername kid?' This was to be the standard greeting to me for some days to come. I was known to other boys as 'The New Kid', or alternatively as 'the fresh 'un'. I soon learned that no one other than some very close friends, called other boys by their given names. Nicknames were sometimes used where appropriate, as in the case of my shadow, Bird. He was known to many as 'Dickie'. Having ginger hair, I became known as 'Ginge'. When I had finished at the sick bay, Bird took me for a tour of the school, and the school grounds, showing me in which places all the different school activities took place, and which places were strictly 'Out of Bounds'. There were plenty of such areas. All of the woods which virtually encircled the school. The school gardens, certain parts of the terrace, and parts of the school interior. I would get to know them all in time. Bird was a decent boy, sympathetic to my feelings, and to some extent, protective. It was during our tour of the school that I first met Brian Burnham. Brian had also just arrived there that afternoon an hour or so before me, and was also being given the grand tour of the school. Like me, he had ginger hair. Brian was from Sunderland, and had a strong 'Geordie' accent. I had never heard such a strong, strange accent before. Although Brian was eighteen months or so older than I, we were to become good friends over the next three years or so. We had things in common, such as our coincidental arrival, our ginger hair, and for the time being at least, we were put in the same school class - Form One. We commiserated with each other, and before long, we had exchanged family details, further cementing the friendship which had sprung up between us. On the large playing fields which covered all the space between the school and the sea on two levels, boys were playing cricket. On the higher level - known as the Cub's Pitch - were practice nets, where several groups of boys were playing cricket. On the lower field, what appeared to be a more serious game of cricket was in progress. It was a calm, late summer's evening, the type of evening which was to become for me, the stereotypical summer's evening in Portishead. Bird took me down to the furthest edge of the lower field and showed me where the swimming pool was. Being in the late summer, the pool was closed. Right at the bottom of the field, we could look directly on to the Mariners Path, a scenic footpath which meandered for miles along the coast of the Bristol Channel. The Mariner's Path was to be much used by us in the next few years. Turning my back to the
channel, and looking at the school, I saw the whole place for the first
time. It was an imposing site, and reminded me of a sort of watchtower,
guarding the approaches to Bristol. With the now late summer's sun
glancing across it from the West, the building took on a more bleak
appearance. Supper was a meagre - though most welcome - meal consisting of a slice of bread, spread with 'dripping', and a mug of cocoa. Meagre as it was, I soon learned to wolf it down like all the others. Grace before, and Grace after each meal soon became a quite meaningless ritual, and was regarded as the last barrier between us and our food. Being Friday night, it was also bath night. Tuesdays and Fridays were bath nights. Bath night meant that all boys had to draw a bundle of clean clothes from the Linen Room, go to his dormitory, have a stand-up-all-over-wash at the basins, and so to bed. The Linen Room was right up on the second floor. It was not a large room, but two hundred boys had to file through, draw their clean linen, and retreat to their dormitories. This was achieved in a reasonably orderly fashion by having the senior boys file through from the western entrance, and the junior boys from the eastern entrance. We filed through in 'linen number' sequence, so that each boy would be in numerical order to draw his linen from a numbered pigeon hole. The exact items of clothes which were exchanged varied from Fridays to Tuesdays. Underpants and socks were changed twice a week. Night-shirts and towels once a week. Khaki shirts and shorts, and in winter jerseys, were changed less frequently. Having just donned school clothes for the first time, I didn't have to draw any linen - I was taken along to the linen room for the experience. Having drawn their linen, the boys went to their respective dormitories, stripped, and lined up for a bath. Dirty clothes had to be 'checked in', and dumped into a large laundry basket. Each boy was checked to make sure that he handed in the soiled counterpart to those items he had just drawn. Boys then lined up, stark naked - no room for modesty here - and waited until there was room in the washroom. Having had a bath earlier on, I was not expected to bath at this time. However, I did have to clean my teeth, and find the spot where I would hang my towel and toothbrush. To my great relief, having seen all the boys line up for their baths in the nude, I was allowed to clean my teeth whilst wearing my khaki shorts. Bath night meant a complete wash in hot water. There were no baths, and as there were only six showers, they were not often used. There were about twenty or so wash basins running back to back down the centre of the 'Latchey' as we called it. Between the basins, and on a sort of centre board, blocks of soap, which were cut from long bars of soap, were placed at convenient intervals. Also, small piles of pink tooth powder were tipped onto the centre board. Boys could dip their wet brush in any pile of powder, gathering up enough to clean one's teeth. A sufficient number of boys were allowed in, one boy per bowl. The hot water was turned on, and we then washed ourselves all over, whilst stood at the basins. Once a boy had washed, he then towelled off as quick as he could, hung his towel up, and lined up again for inspection by the duty officer to make sure he had washed thoroughly. Inspection meant standing in front of the officer, arms out, head bent right back so that the underside of the chin could be inspected for 'tide marks'. Once a boy had passed this final inspection, he was free to put on his night-shirt, and turn in. Night-shirts were long, oversized white shirts which in many cases, touched the floor, but which never the less, were quite comfortable. Reading and talking were allowed until 'Lights Out' at nine o'clock. Having bathed and put on clean linen earlier, I was first in bed. The boy in the bed next to mine was a boy called Frank Walsh. Walsh - we didn't use first names - came from Streatham in South London. I remembered Streatham because my mother had lived there many years ago, and had talked about it. Being from Streatham, Walsh had a London accent which to me, coming from Lancashire, sounded rather 'posh'! Walsh and I became friends; he told me about his family - his mother had died some years ago - and his life in London. I was fascinated by this story of such a great city! He also did his best to help me over the first night by telling me that '...it wasn't so bad...' and telling me about the good things that happened. Lights Out came promptly at
nine o'clock, and we were told to 'pipe down'. |