The year was 1946. The young man stepped off the lend-lease carrier that had brought him from England to Number Six Shed, climbed into a horse and buggy and was soon deposited at the gates of Saltus Grammar School. A few minutes later, he was handed a time-table, asked which half of lunch hour he would like to supervise and then told by headmaster Bob Booker, to just "get on with it.'' Fifty years after that no-nonsense introduction to the world of education, the geography teacher whose name, for generations of Bermudians, became synonymous with the very word `Saltus', has returned in triumph. This week, the school has been celebrating the 50th anniversary of the former deputy headmaster's employment by establishing The Francis Stephenson Scholarship Fund. To Saltus Old Boys he is, of course, better known simply as `Steve'.

A special golf tournament, organised by them to raise funds, was over-subscribed within a couple of hours -- quite a compliment for this still young-looking 79-year old who, for so many years, had ruled those `old boys' with the proverbial rod of iron.

With discipline amongst young people generally now in an apparently bewildering state of disarray, many Bermudians look back with a kind of yearning on Mr. Stephenson's reign as the `golden age' when life was simpler -- and kids still respected their elders.

As William Duncan, senior music teacher for the last 14 years of Mr.

Stephenson's employment, puts it: "He epitomised everything that Saltus was striving for. Beneath that rather fierce exterior was a very caring man who had the boys' best interests at heart -- but woe betide the boy who left his geometry set at home or `forgot' to bring in his homework!'' Hundreds, if not thousands of those boys would testify that such a lapse would almost certainly bring a dreaded visit to the deputy's office.

One former student who made a few of those trips is Dexter Smith, now sports editor of the Mid Ocean News . In their brief reunion during this interview, Mr. Stephenson recalled advising the young Dexter to go into journalism. Mr.

Smith, who graduated in 1979 says: "Strangely enough, my fondest memory of him was once I was able to stand back from school life and see from a distance what he had done for me. In school, all I could think about was getting past the third year, so that I didn't have to take geography with him any more! In my first year we had a lot of run-ins, Steve and I. I wasn't the easiest kid to deal with but, in retrospect, I realise he was very stern, very strict, with the aim of getting across a caring relationship. Seeing him come back for these festivities, is really good.'' It was not only the children who acquired a healthy respect for the deputy head.

"Steve was a blunt Yorkshireman, tough but fair,'' says Jon Beard, head of P.E. and his next door neighbour for many years. "When he walked the corridors the toughest of boys (and some of the staff!) stood in silence wondering what problem he would find with their uniform, locker -- or stance.

He was uncompromising with everyone, there were no favourites.'' By the time boys left school, continues Mr. Beard, "they had developed an affinity for Steve and would return to see him. He always remembered who was who and they would often spend time laughing about how many times he had caned them. When he was on his last visit, I well remember our visit to a local restaurant. The owner was waiting on tables that night and there was this hard-headed businessman standing there in shocked silence. All he could manage was `Mr. Stephenson?' Steve, looked up, called him by his correct name, adding `I'll have wahoo, and it had better be good!' And it was, because Steve always demanded perfection -- and usually got it!'' "I was hired as a disciplinarian,'' he admits with the cheerful frankness that is part of his charm. "I had just come out of the army, in the P.B.I. -- that stands for `Poor Bloody Infantry'. I became a teacher because a lot of my friends had followed that route and the idea appealed to me. I certainly didn't fancy the idea of working in some office.'' Reflecting on those early years, he says there was a feeling that people gave 120 percent of themselves. "I remember the groundsmen who worked so hard, especially Louis Amaral, who would go round the field cutting grass, pushing a motorised mower and pulling two more behind him! That used to really impress me, in all that heat. He used to cut all the teachers' hair as well. He was the barber for the whole of Tucker's Town and used to charge five bob.'' When he first arrived, Mr. Stephenson shared a school apartment at Woodlands with another teacher. "We had a bedroom each and shared a sitting room. We had breakfast with the headmaster every morning and had maid service. There were some kids who were boarders, too, because they lived a long way away, and there were no cars allowed until 1948. Some came in on the railway.'' In that era, too, of gentler Immigration rules, Mr. Stephenson helped ship the railway out of Bermuda when it was sold to British Guiana (Guyana). "I helped check off all the various pieces at No. 7 Shed. I think we were paid one and sixpence an hour! I used to work as a Customs clerk in the holidays. In those days, of course, you had to work things out in your head -- now they have computers to do the work for them...'' Stephenson returns to Bermuda for Saltus honour Mr. Stephenson, appointed deputy head in 1956, worked under a total of five principals and, for a short time, became headmaster himself. "In 1978, I had to have a quadruple bypass operation in London and Roy (Haygarth) promised me a very light workload. The next thing I knew, he was leaving, having been appointed head of Liverpool College. So I had to take over as headmaster for six months. Didn't have much choice about that!'' When he retired in 1983, Mr. Stephenson stayed on to write the official history of Saltus. "One of the reasons I was inspired to do that was because I had always been very impressed by the way local businessmen (usually Old Boys) became trustees of the school. There were some very gifted men who worked extremely hard. I remember receiving a letter from Hereward Watlington who thanked me as `the only one' who had recorded their efforts in print. I like that!'' Admitting he is somewhat surprised by this week's very public display of affection, Mr. Stephenson says: "I had my share of brickbats at the time, but gradually I suppose we all mellowed a bit. I always felt it was important, and part of my job to make children understand that even animals -- and humans are animals -- need discipline in order to survive, to understand the parameters and the consequences if you step outside them. Of course, most kids kick over the traces at some time or another: that's quite natural.'' Asked what he considers the most important quality in a teacher, he replies: "Patience and understanding. Every teacher has to remember that not every kid understands something at the switch of a button. For me,'' he adds, "the greatest reward was to see a child blossom. There were always children who thought they weren't any good and I considered it my job to find the key to unlock that child and get him motivated. Of course, you couldn't use the same key for each child -- everyone is different -- but I tried to bring the best out in each kid. Sometimes, I would see a boy fail his G.C.E exam and then, the next year, turn right around and do brilliantly. Sometimes, I like to think that I and other teachers have managed to turn a child around.'' One of the problems facing teachers today, Mr. Stephenson believes, has been the spread of permissiveness throughout society. "And one of the biggest reasons for that, I think, has been the increasing interference of politics in the bringing up of children. In 1960, we had this visiting, so-called educator -- a political chappie -- who set the blueprint for what he thought education was all about, and so far as I could see, it was just socialistic stuff, and nothing much at all to do with education!'' Owning he had been reluctant to leave Bermuda, Mr. Stephenson, whose only son lives here, says one of the reasons for returning to the UK, was to take care of his ailing mother-in-law. Sadly, his wife is now also unwell and unable to travel here for the celebrations. His face is suddenly wreathed in smiles as he speaks of her. "I first met Audrey when I was about 12! Her mother and my aunt were friends and I met her again when I came back from the war. I came home one day, and there she was, sitting in a chair, beaming at me. That did it! We were married two years later here in Bermuda, in St. John's Church.

That was 48 years ago.''