The bearer of the pleased smile and the plaster cast is our London Bureau's John Lovesey, the very model of a man who has seen his duty and has done it. Readers of the story on the Outward Bound school (page 42) may understandably regard its commando course curriculum as more attractive to spectator than performer. Nevertheless, when Lovesey received his assignment he braced his colleague, Photographer Brian Seed, and said, "We must take this course ourselves!"
Seed is a confirmed city mouse (London style), partial to sleeping on a pillow and bathing in hot water, but he rose to the challenge like a man. When the first dawn came, he dived into the frigid river Dart, only to emerge with a limp and the honor of being the expedition's casualty No. 1. Further direct research, therefore, was all Lovesey's. "Should there be any doubts about this business," he later wrote, "hear what happened. I wish it could remain hidden in some Dartmoor mist, but the spirit of Outward Bound requires me to divulge all. Simply, I was handed a rope to swing an enormous distance to a net." With admirable British understatement casualty No. 2 concludes: "I am afraid I failed to maintain my hold."
"In fact," says Seed, "he plummeted from more than 20 feet like a wounded duck into a mass of moss and dry leaves at my feet. I picked him up and carefully dusted him off—three times. Just as regularly he capsized." The Outward Bound motto, "To serve, to strive and not to yield," discourages appeals for help. Hopefully unobserved, a limping Seed and a broken-legged Lovesey hobbled to a car they had secreted near by and made their way to a doctor for repairs.
After that, Photographer Seed's efforts to ameliorate Outward Bound's rigors took various forms, none of which in retrospect he considers too successful. Below you see him stirring up an early morning delicacy, bisque de homard, no authorized part of Outward Bound fare. "If you care to know," says Seed, "lobster soup is jolly poor for breakfast."