certainty for the French naval crews.

Our crew were terribly exhausted when they landed. They had had a
very very severe pull, in a heavy sea, and with a strong head-wind
against them, and most of them were no longer young; still, after
a bath and a change of clothing, and, quite possibly, a brandy-
and-soda or two (nobody ever drank whisky in the "sixties"), they
pulled themselves together again. It was Lord Mount Edgcumbe who
first suggested that as there was an afternoon dance that day at
the Cercle Nautique de la Mediterranee, they should all adjourn to
the club and dance vigorously, just to show what sturdy, hard-
bitten dogs they were, to whom a strenuous three-mile pull in a
heavy sea was a mere trifle, even though some of them were forty
years old. So off we all went to the Cercle, and I well remember
seeing my brother-in-law and Sir George Higginson gyrating wildly
and ceaselessly round the ball-room, tired out though they were.
Between ourselves, our French friends were immensely impressed
with this exhibition of British vigour, and almost forgave our
boat for having won the rowing championship of the Mediterranean.

At the Villa Beaulieu where we lived, there were immense
rejoicings that night. Of course all our crew dined there, and I
was allowed to come down to dinner myself. Toasts were proposed;
healths were drunk again and again. Speeches were made, and the
terrific cheering must have seriously weakened the rafters and
roof of the house. No one grudged my father his immense
satisfaction, for after all he had originated the idea of winning
the championship of the Mediterranean, and had had the boat built
at his sole expense, and it was not his defects as an oarsman but
his fifty-five years which had prevented him from stroking his own