take the chance of meeting him informally. This was, so to speak, the first move in supercession, like showing the new chieftain to the elders of the tribe.
The Commander of the College himself was away, having a wisdom tooth extracted, and many of the introductions were done by the Commander (Training) whose face The Bodger recognised at once, over the gulf of the years, as one of the cadets he had had charge of in the old training cruiser Barsetshire years before. His name was Isaiah Nine Smith and The Bodger remembered him as a shy, withdrawn, intense young man who had gone about his work in the training cruiser with a zeal which had been faintly terrifying. Now he was a Commander and, by one of the ironies of the Service, The Bodger’s close colleague. He was a different generation altogether to The Bodger and although they would both still be able to count on certain basic assumptions about themselves, the College and the Navy, they would otherwise have to bridge a great gap of experience, age and temperament. Isaiah Nine Smith might have been ill at ease meeting his old Cadet Training Officer in such altered circumstances, but The Bodger was glad to see he was not. The Bodger realised that he knew almost nothing about the man, just as the boy had been a mystery in Barsetshire .
‘Are you married, Ikey? Got a wife down here?’
‘No, sir, I’m not married.’
He said it with a dismissive shrug, not deprecatingly, shyly or awkwardly. The Bodger began to recognise the signs of a flyer, someone who was going to rise in the Service: the general air of confidence, the quick appraisal of chances, the readiness to decide, the ability to weigh up others and assess their capabilities. In conversation The Bodger gently tried to sound the man out, to search for weakness, for prejudices. He must have some. But The Bodger could only find one welcome point of agreement. Ike was as determined as The Bodger to abolish Spicer’s lectures.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t taken action before, sir, but of course ...’ Isaiah Nine Smith looked meaningfully at The Bodger, ‘one has to bear in mind a certain weight of College tradition. I think at one time they might have been of some practical use but I think they’ve now degenerated into almost a parody of themselves. Although, heaven knows, one can’t assume these days, sir, that the midshipman know all the things we were always assumed to know.’
‘Is that a problem now?’
‘Very much so, sir. It really is getting to the state where nobody on the staff can take anything at all for granted. You can be pretty sure they can read and write, or they wouldn’t have passed the exam, and you can assume that they can speak intelligible English, or they wouldn’t have passed the interview-but you can’t even assume that with some of the Gromboolians.’
‘You mean some of the Gromboolian navies are sending us some of their hard cases?’
‘Oh no, not at all, sir!’ Isaiah Nine Smith looked genuinely shocked. ‘Not at all! In fact, quite the very opposite, sir. Some of them are sent to Dartmouth as rewards , for having done so well in their own training set-ups back home. Only the very best come. But, as I said, they may have done well at home, but in some cases, not all by any means, their English hasn’t quite kept up. And we do have to make allowances. We sometimes run a small special course. The Prof. normally takes them himself.’
The Bodger mentally stored the information, as one more example of the Prof.’s services to the College.
‘But to get back to what I was saying, sir...’ Isaiah Nine Smith had the conversational tenacity of the good committee man. ‘We can assume they can read and write and speak English, but that’s all. Nothing else. We get all types, all classes, all political and religious views, we’re constantly amazed at what the midshipmen nowadays know and what they don’t know. You get the occasional one who has never used a napkin and drinks
The Commander of the College himself was away, having a wisdom tooth extracted, and many of the introductions were done by the Commander (Training) whose face The Bodger recognised at once, over the gulf of the years, as one of the cadets he had had charge of in the old training cruiser Barsetshire years before. His name was Isaiah Nine Smith and The Bodger remembered him as a shy, withdrawn, intense young man who had gone about his work in the training cruiser with a zeal which had been faintly terrifying. Now he was a Commander and, by one of the ironies of the Service, The Bodger’s close colleague. He was a different generation altogether to The Bodger and although they would both still be able to count on certain basic assumptions about themselves, the College and the Navy, they would otherwise have to bridge a great gap of experience, age and temperament. Isaiah Nine Smith might have been ill at ease meeting his old Cadet Training Officer in such altered circumstances, but The Bodger was glad to see he was not. The Bodger realised that he knew almost nothing about the man, just as the boy had been a mystery in Barsetshire .
‘Are you married, Ikey? Got a wife down here?’
‘No, sir, I’m not married.’
He said it with a dismissive shrug, not deprecatingly, shyly or awkwardly. The Bodger began to recognise the signs of a flyer, someone who was going to rise in the Service: the general air of confidence, the quick appraisal of chances, the readiness to decide, the ability to weigh up others and assess their capabilities. In conversation The Bodger gently tried to sound the man out, to search for weakness, for prejudices. He must have some. But The Bodger could only find one welcome point of agreement. Ike was as determined as The Bodger to abolish Spicer’s lectures.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t taken action before, sir, but of course ...’ Isaiah Nine Smith looked meaningfully at The Bodger, ‘one has to bear in mind a certain weight of College tradition. I think at one time they might have been of some practical use but I think they’ve now degenerated into almost a parody of themselves. Although, heaven knows, one can’t assume these days, sir, that the midshipman know all the things we were always assumed to know.’
‘Is that a problem now?’
‘Very much so, sir. It really is getting to the state where nobody on the staff can take anything at all for granted. You can be pretty sure they can read and write, or they wouldn’t have passed the exam, and you can assume that they can speak intelligible English, or they wouldn’t have passed the interview-but you can’t even assume that with some of the Gromboolians.’
‘You mean some of the Gromboolian navies are sending us some of their hard cases?’
‘Oh no, not at all, sir!’ Isaiah Nine Smith looked genuinely shocked. ‘Not at all! In fact, quite the very opposite, sir. Some of them are sent to Dartmouth as rewards , for having done so well in their own training set-ups back home. Only the very best come. But, as I said, they may have done well at home, but in some cases, not all by any means, their English hasn’t quite kept up. And we do have to make allowances. We sometimes run a small special course. The Prof. normally takes them himself.’
The Bodger mentally stored the information, as one more example of the Prof.’s services to the College.
‘But to get back to what I was saying, sir...’ Isaiah Nine Smith had the conversational tenacity of the good committee man. ‘We can assume they can read and write and speak English, but that’s all. Nothing else. We get all types, all classes, all political and religious views, we’re constantly amazed at what the midshipmen nowadays know and what they don’t know. You get the occasional one who has never used a napkin and drinks
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