Kitabı oku: «Digby Heathcote: The Early Days of a Country Gentleman's Son and Heir», sayfa 19
Julian was looking very sheepish and downcast, and very much inclined to cry; but the moment he saw Digby, who could not help coming forward, his countenance brightened up.
“Ah, Digby, this is pleasant, to have a friend to meet one, and to tell one all about the school,” he exclaimed. “I did not know I was coming to your school. Now I don’t mind. What sort of a place is it? Many fast fellows, eh? Any fun to be had? Tell me all about it; come, quick. You look jolly enough, let me tell you. Why, you are nearly as big as I am.” So Julian ran on, much in his old style.
Although Digby knew perfectly well what he had been, and how much mischief he had led him into, yet he could not help looking upon him as an old friend and companion, and as such he received him, feeling really very glad to see him. They had not much time to talk then, for Rubbins having got all his luggage and things out of the fly, and shaken hands with him in a somewhat familiar and patronising manner, delivered him over formally to Susan, to be carried before Mr Sanford.
“Won’t you wish to see master, sir?” asked Susan, who did not understand exactly who Mr Rubbins was.
“Oh, no; no, thank you,” answered that gentleman, with a slight sneer in the tone of his voice. “The young one knows well enough how to take care of himself, I guess.”
Susan, from these words, at once understood who Mr Rubbins was, and formed a tolerably correct opinion of the character of the young gentleman, which she did not fail to express to Mrs Pike.
Digby had to leave Julian, who was now taken before Mr Sanford; but he promised to wait for him at the end of the passage.
Mr Sanford was not altogether satisfied with his new pupil. Julian spoke in an off-hand way of his former career, and the education he had received; and then forthwith mentioned his friendship with Digby Heathcote.
“He will show me all about the school, sir, and put me up to its ways. All I want is to know them, and I dare say that I shall get on very well with the other fellows,” said Julian, with consummate assurance. “Digby and I, you see, sir, are like brothers almost – we have been so much together, and think so exactly alike.”
Now Mr Sanford, from what he had heard of Digby, had formed a favourable opinion of him; and therefore, taking Julian at his word, he was bound to form the same of him. He knew enough, however, of the world to be aware that the very worst way of judging of persons is to take them at their own estimate; and so Julian did not find himself quite so highly esteemed as he might have wished. Mr Sanford, however, rang the bell, and desired that Master Heathcote might be sent to him.
Digby very quickly made his appearance; and Mr Sanford was at once inclined to doubt Julian’s assertion that they were acquainted, till Digby explained that they had just before met.
“Very well, Heathcote, introduce him to the other boys; and I hope I shall hear a good account of him from the masters,” said Mr Sanford. “But remember, by the by, that you do not run the risk of breaking your own neck, and that of your companions, by slipping down from the top of church towers. I must take measures to prevent such a proceeding in future; and have begged Mrs Pike and Mr Yates to see to it. Now go, and be good boys.”
Away ran Digby and Julian. The boys were in the playground, so Digby at once took his old friend there to introduce him. He was resolved to give him the chance of a good start; so he took him up only to the best fellows, intending to warn him of the characters of the others. This ought to have been a very great advantage to Julian.
Farnham, Ranger, Newland, received him, for Digby’s sake, very kindly and cordially; and even Bouverie showed that he wished to be civil to him, and did not address him in the bantering way in which big fellows are apt to speak to those younger than themselves.
Julian, however, took it into his head that all this was owing to his own merits, and was not proportionably grateful to Digby. Although warned by Digby, from the first, of the characters of Spiller, Johnny Bray, Scarborough, and others, he at once showed that he had a hankering to become acquainted with them. Spiller, consequent, very soon got round him, and became the possessor of various articles in his box, as well as of some slices of his cake, and a pot or two of jam. Scarborough was not long in falling foul of him.
Digby was about to rush to his rescue, and calling on Ranger and Farnham to assist; when what was his surprise to hear Julian say —
“Please don’t hit me, Scarborough, and I will give you a pot of jam and some marmalade, and will send home for some more, if you want it.”
“Well, hand out the grub, young one, and I will let you off this time,” answered the bully. “Remember, though, I won’t stand any nonsense. You’ve promised to get me what I want, and I intend to keep you up to your word.”
Julian sneaked off to his play-box, to get the eatables; and Digby turned away with disgust.
“The idea of buying off a thrashing from a big bully,” he exclaimed, stamping with his feet in very vexation. “It is a thoroughly un-English, cowardly proceeding. Besides, it will only make the bully attack him more readily when he wants anything out of him. As he looks upon him as my friend, he wants to revenge himself on him, as he dares not attack me again while Bouverie remains.”
Boys at school very soon find their own level. Julian rapidly sunk to his. He would have had a better chance of retaining the friendship of Farnham, Ranger, and the good set, had he been sent to sleep in their room; but, unfortunately, there was no vacant bed there, and he, consequently, was put into a room with Spiller, and some of the worst fellows. All the advantage, therefore, which he gained in the day, from associating with Digby and his friends, was undone in the evening by the loose conversation of his bedroom companions.
“I wanted to have had a jolly feast, such as you had, Digby, the fellows tell me, and which, it seems, gained you so many first-rate friends,” said Julian, one day soon after his arrival, in a melancholy tone. “But do you know, what with that brute, Scarborough, and that sneaky chap, Spiller, and a host of others, I haven’t got a single thing left. I don’t think you benefited much by me, either.”
“Oh, never mind that; but I did not suppose my feasts gave me friends,” answered Digby. “Perhaps it might have been so; but then, when I think of it, Bouverie would accept nothing, and some of the best fellows took very little, and indeed, generally put in their own share of grub.”
“Ah, still they knew that you were a fellow who was always likely to have plenty of good things,” argued Julian. “I must see about getting some more things from the Priory; it won’t do to be looking down in the world.”
Poor, miserable Julian had evidently no notion of any other bond of union between people; it should not be called friendship, though he so called it, but interest, what one may get from the other. He was to be pitied certainly; but not for a moment exonerated. He had been miserably instructed at the first, there was no doubt about that; but then he had gone to Mr Nugent’s, where he had every opportunity of learning what was right. The truth, the right was set clearly before him, but he deliberately refused to accept it. The laws of God and man, his duties in life, were clearly explained to him; he had a good example set him; he was kept as much as possible out of temptation to do wrong; still, as has been seen, he contrived to do it. Now he came where he had evidently the choice between good companions and bad, and he deliberately chose the bad.
So it will be with all those whose eyes may fall on these pages. If they abandon the straight and narrow, and perhaps difficult, path of right, and enter into the broad, and seemingly easy, course of evil, they do so with their eyes open, in spite of warnings, in spite of the whisperings of conscience, in spite of thousands of examples of the destructive results of the life they are pursuing; and they will in the end be unable to offer the slightest excuse for themselves; they will have to acknowledge they brought down all their misery and wretchedness on their own heads, that their punishment was just.
The next Saturday came, and when lessons were over, Mr Yates ascended the head-master’s desk, and informed the school that leave to go out was stopped, in consequence of certain proceedings which had come to Mr Sanford’s knowledge; but more than that he did not consider it just then necessary to explain.
This announcement, though received in silence, created the greatest vexation, and anger, and indignation among all the boys. Some thought the prohibition arose from one cause, some from another. Digby and his friends, who had played the game of Follow-my-leader on the previous Saturday, thought that it was owing to something they had done on that occasion. Some farmer, less good-natured than Mr Growler, might have complained about them; perhaps it was owing to their exploit in the church tower; others thought that it was owing to something which had occurred in the village; others, owing to a fight which had taken place between one of their boys and a country lad; and perhaps Scarborough, and Spiller, and their set might have suspected that their half-holiday practices were known, and that all the school was being punished on that account. One thing was clear, on comparing notes, that a very considerable number of misdemeanours were committed every Saturday; and that, altogether, they were not punished without cause. Those, however, as is usually the case, who were the most guilty, were the most furious.
Scarborough declared loudly that he would pot stand it; that, in spite of all the masters, he for one would go out as usual; so said a number of other fellows of his stamp.
Digby, and Farnham, and Newland did not like it; they thought themselves very unjustly treated; and of course that made them indignant. They talked of doing all sorts of things: they would scale the walls; they would take their usual expedition, with leave or without leave.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” exclaimed Farnham, who was always rather vehement when he fancied himself unjustly treated, “I’ll write home, and beg to be taken away altogether, unless we have our proper liberty. After dinner, I’ll go straight up to Mr Sanford, and ask him why we are all kept in because some other fellows have done what is wrong; and then I’ll undertake to guarantee that if he will allow them to go out, they will all behave as he could wish in every way. If he still refuses, then I will frankly tell him that I will write home, and complain, and that others are determined to do the same.”
Farnham’s proposal was very much applauded by nearly all the moderate party, a few only advocating a quiet run through the country for an hour or so, just to show that they would maintain their rights.
The dinner-bell rang. They all went in; and no one ate a worse dinner in consequence of the perturbed state of their minds. They still, however, continued, in low voices, talking the matter over; and the masters and Mrs Pike saw that something was evidently wrong. The weather, however, summarily settled the matter for them. The sky had been for some time clouding over, and before they had left the dinner-table, the rain began to descend in torrents, so that it was impossible for any one of them to make any complaint of not being allowed to go out on that day. Harder and harder came down the rain, till it was evident that it was going to be a settled pouring afternoon. Although, in one respect, this was an advantage, as it enabled the better disposed to calm their spirits, and to think quietly over what they had proposed to do, yet it, at the same time, allowed the rest to brood over their fancied wrongs, and to concoct a variety of schemes of vengeance.
Julian Langley was one of the most indignant, and most ready to join any of the plans of the extreme party. He had come to a school where he understood there was plenty of liberty and gentlemanly treatment, and he found, he said, neither one nor the other. He had read of some fellows at a large school getting up a grand rebellion, barring out the masters, and standing a siege of several days, till their terms were complied with. The idea was caught up by others. It was grand in the extreme, if not novel. Scarborough and some of the bigger fellows were delighted with it. Julian undertook to win over Heathcote and his set.
“They must not be left out, certainly,” observed Scarborough. “They are plucky fellows, and would be powerful allies; but I suspect that you will have some difficulty in managing them.”
“Let me alone for that,” answered Julian, with a self-satisfied tone. “I know how to touch up my old friend, Digby Heathcote, in the right place. He is well primed already, and only wants the spark to set him off.”
There was certainly far less noise and disturbance that Saturday afternoon than there had been for a long time. On the Sunday, also, and the following days, the masters observed that the boys behaved even better than usual. An event which proved to be of considerable importance occurred on Monday. Bouverie, who had been counselling patience and submission, was suddenly summoned home to attend the sick bed of his father: he had time only to pack up and be off. He sent, however, for Farnham, and urged him not to do anything rashly, though he could not enlighten him as to the reason of the prohibition so much complained of. Strange to say, Digby was more pleased with Julian for two or three days than he had been since he came to the school – he was constantly with him, submitting to his opinion, and speaking so very sensibly on many matters.
“I’ll tell you what it is, Digby,” said Julian at last, “if all the fellows will sink their quarrels and disputes and unite heart and hand, we shall carry the day and gain our rights. For my own part, I do not care much about the matter; I am not going to be here long, so I argue for the sake of others more than for myself. Just, therefore, come and hear what Knowles and that clever fellow, Blake, has got to say. Depend on it they will show you that they are in the right.”
In a fatal moment Digby consented to join a conference of those who called themselves the leaders of the school, to decide what should be done in case they were still denied the liberty they demanded.
Chapter Fifteen
A Rebellion Proposed – Plans for Carrying on the War – The Weakest Find that they have to Pay the Piper – Commencement of Hostilities – Barring out
The Saturday arrived which the boys at Grangewood expected would prove so big with events. It was a fine warm day – a great contrast to the previous Saturday. There appeared not the slightest reason why they should be kept in. As the school hours drew to a close everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation. At last half-past twelve came, and Mr Yates ascended the head-master’s desk. “Boys,” he said, in his usual disagreeable tone, “you were informed last week that you were not to go out beyond the playground. The same prohibition at present exists.”
No sooner were the words uttered than a low groan was heard from one end of the schoolroom to the other. It rose higher and higher, till it burst into something which sounded very like a loud roar of anger.
“Mr Tugman, bring me up here some of the boys who are making that hideous noise,” shouted Mr Yates. “Monsieur Guillaume, can you catch some of them? Mr Moore, is no one making a noise near you?”
Whenever one of the masters approached, the boys were found crying, with their handkerchiefs to their eyes, and saying, “Oh dear! oh dear! we mustn’t go out; we mustn’t go out.”
This continued till the dinner-bell rang; for Mr Yates would not dismiss them, as was usual when school was over.
“You may go into dinner, boys,” he sang out at last, fancying that he had gained the day.
Dinner passed over very quietly, however, and everybody eat even more than usual. Slices of bread and meat were also stowed away in the pockets of those who were sitting at a distance from Mrs Pike or any of the masters. Their intention was to lay in all the provisions of which they could possibly possess themselves. Digby had had a hamper of cake and tongues, and cheese and preserves, for which he was indebted to representations made by John Pratt to Mrs Carter, backed up by a petition from Kate. So numberless were the contents, and so liberal was the supply, that it seemed almost inexhaustible – sufficient, Digby and some of his friends considered, to last the whole school for many days. They were not well practised in commissariat arrangements or they would not have thought so. Other fellows, as it happened, also had hampers, which usually arrived about the middle of the half, to prevent their spirits sinking till the return of the holidays. All these things were collected in the play-room, as were the slices of bread and meat carried off from the dining-room. When, however, Scarborough and some of the heads of the rebellion came to examine the amount of provisions collected, they pronounced them totally inadequate for the purpose of enabling them to hold out till their grievances were redressed.
“Where, too, is the liquor? – where is the water? Is there any tea and sugar?” they asked. “We should die of thirst.” They declared that it was absolutely necessary that a party should be told off to procure the necessary stores.
It then became a question as to who should go. Scarborough and Spiller had no fancy to run any risk for the good of others, nor indeed had Julian Langley, or Tommy Bray – indeed, a very sharp look-out was kept on all Master Tommy’s movements lest he should sneak off and betray them. Water, it was suggested, might easily be collected in the water-jugs and basins, which could be brought down from the rooms, and an order was accordingly issued that the water in all the rooms should be preserved with the greatest economy. Then fuel was to be found for the fire, and kettles to boil the water, and saucepans to boil potatoes and to make stews, for they had no wish to undergo more hardships than they could help. With regard to the important point of procuring provisions, it was proposed that lots should be drawn, and that ten fellows, on whom they fell, should go out at night to obtain the supplies. Tea and sugar was loudly demanded by some: ale and ginger-beer and soda-water by others.
Scarborough and two or three of his intimates, managed the drawing of the lots: they fell in a very extraordinary manner on Digby, Farnham, Ranger, Newland, and others of the most steady boys, at the same time the most spirited and likely to carry out what they might undertake.
“It is, indeed, fortunate we fellows are altogether, because we can thoroughly trust each other,” remarked Digby, unsuspicious of any trick.
If Farnham did think unfair play had been used, he did not deign to say so. He had consented to draw lots, and as some one would have had to go, he was ready to run the risk.
The next thing to be done was to collect the funds to purchase the stores. Scarborough, and some of the other big fellows, went round and insisted on all those they could coerce emptying their pockets and their purses and contributing the greater part of their wealth to the common store. If a fellow had five shillings, he was told he must give four; if he had half-a-crown, he had to give up two shillings. Digby, Ranger, and their party contributed nearly ten shillings each. When, however, inquiries were made as to what Scarborough and some of the other big fellows were going to give, it was found that he had only a few shillings in his purse; he said that he could only put in eighteen-pence. He wanted the rest to buy tobacco, he asserted; which was very likely. Spiller, turning his pockets inside out, with a melancholy countenance, said he positively had nothing; but that he was not ashamed, as he was certain the advantage his wits would afford his companions would make ample amends for his want of tin. He, however, was certain that his friend, Julian Langley, who had so lately come from home, and had, as yet, no opportunity of spending his money, would be flush of cash.
“A fine idea!” exclaimed Scarborough, very much in the voice with which a Knight Templar of old would have addressed an unfortunate Jew whom he had got into his power. “Come, Langley, my man, we look to you for supplying the sinews of war; what have you got?”
Julian hummed and hawed not a little, and hesitated; but had at last to confess that he had got four pounds.
“Then three pounds is the least sum you can hand out,” said Scarborough. “We might justly ask for ten shillings more, but we won’t for the present; we shall know to whom to apply if more is wanted.”
Julian had most reluctantly to draw forth the amount from his purse, and heartily he wished that no rebellion had been proposed. He had to learn the truth of a proverb, which runs to the effect, that in cases such as the present, “Whoever may dance, the weak and the silly ones have invariably to pay the piper.”
“But when are we to begin the rebellion? when are we to commence barring out?” asked Digby, rising from his seat. “I thought that we were to set to work at once.”
“We admire your zeal and courage, Heathcote,” answered Scarborough, who had invariably spoken very politely to him since the lesson he had received.
It need scarcely be said that the bully looked forward to taking his revenge before long, now that Bouverie had gone.
“Your zeal and courage is great,” he repeated; “but discretion is also of importance. We have now got a half-holiday, and to-morrow is Sunday, when we shall have to do no lessons; therefore it would be folly to shut ourselves up during that time. The provisions you are to procure cannot be got in before this evening. The difficulty will be to get them in; but we must manage it thus. You must all bring as much as you can; some must be packed in hampers, and directed to different fellows, as if it had come from home. Then the tradesmen must bring others in parcels; and I know a fellow who will, for a bribe, pretend to be a cake-man, and will bring in all sorts of things in his baskets.”
Digby’s feelings, as did those of his friends, revolted somewhat from these proposals; but they had entered into the undertaking, and they thought that they were in honour bound to go on with it.
“But how are we to get out without being seen?” he asked.
“I have thought about that, too,” answered Scarborough, with a condescending smile. “We are to get up a grand game of hoops – that makes as much noise and confusion as anything. Football would, be better, if it had been the right time of the year, and we had grass to play on; now it might create suspicion. We must get the side gate open, and as we all press about it, so as to stop up the view of it from the house, you fellows are to slip out. The rest is easy. Hudson, and Jones, and Ware will supply you with what we want; they will do anything for money. Here, we have made out lists of what we want, and the different ways in which the things are to be sent in. It must all be collected in this room by to-night; if things come to-morrow, suspicion may be created. You understand the plan, now, all of you? By the bye, all the play-boxes, which have locks and keys, must be emptied, to hold the things, and the keys must be delivered over to our committee, which, you will understand, is called ‘The Committee of Safety.’ It is for the good of the cause – we must sacrifice everything to that. No one exactly would like a dictator, nor do I; so I hope all will agree that we have acted for the best.”
Digby and Farnham were not quite satisfied when they found that this committee of safety consisted of Scarborough, Spiller, and three other fellows, called Ton, Smee, and Capron, their constant associates, and very nearly as great bullies and bad characters as Scarborough. However, it was too late to recede.
The foraging party were now provided with their lists, and with certain sums to pay for the things they were to get. Whether all the money collected was given to them they could not tell. Each of them, however, wisely made a note of what he received.
This was a piece of worldly wisdom my readers will do well to imitate through life – be exact in all money transactions. Put down at once all sums received and paid away, with the date of the transaction, and the name of the person to whom the sum was paid, or from whom received. It may give a little trouble at the time, but will save a great deal in the end.
The afternoon was drawing on; they all hurried out into the playground, having got hold of every hoop to be found. They divided into two parties, and were to charge each other from one end of the ground to the other. The foragers had hoops, also, but they were to throw down theirs, and to make their escape at the signal agreed on.
Digby’s heart beat eagerly. Go he would, but still he would very much rather not have gone. He did not fear punishment, but he had hitherto been looked upon as a well-behaved boy, and he did not wish to lose that character.
The two parties drew up on either end of the ground.
“Charge!” shouted Scarborough. Away they went, rattling along, till they met in the middle. Many hoops were overthrown; the rest of the boys, with loud shouts, rushed on to the end, wheeling their hoops round, to prepare for another charge. Those whose hoops had been knocked down assembled on one side, close to the side wicket. Spiller was there, and so were all the foraging party. Spiller had some tools in his hands. The next encounter of the hoops took place exactly in a line with that spot; and though several other boys went up to it, their numbers did not appear to have increased. All that afternoon the game of hoops went on, the boys knocking away with their sticks and shouting at the top of their voices; till poor Mr Sanford’s shattered nerves were almost completely unstrung.
At length, the voice of a man, who said he was a cake-man, was heard outside; and Spiller was dispatched, with a humble request to Mrs Pike for the key of the wicket, to allow him to enter.
In an incautious moment, influenced by the idea of saving her bread-and-butter, Mrs Pike gave up the key.
“I’ll soon be back with it, marm,” said Spiller, in his blandest tone.
The cake-man’s basket was soon emptied; but it appeared that he had another one outside, and the contents of that disappeared with equal rapidity. Pockets, and pocket-handkerchiefs, and hats, were quickly filled, and the things carried off to the play-room.
The foraging party had been out, and came in, one by one, in the rear of the cake-man, heavily laden. The expected hampers also arrived. They always put Mrs Pike in good humour. A very large one was for Scarborough, who never had had one before. They were eagerly pounced on by him and the boys, and carried off into the play-room.
The masters congratulated themselves altogether on the good behaviour of the boys.
Tommy Bray, however, managed to elude the vigilance of those watching him, and got off to Monsieur Guillaume’s room, to give him a hint of what was to occur; but the French master had gone to London for three days, and Tommy dared not tell anybody else, lest his name, as the informer, should afterwards transpire.
Night came, and all went to their rooms. Never, however, had Digby been more unhappy and less satisfied with himself since he came to the school. He prayed, but he felt that his prayers were hollow. He was not doing his duty to the best of his power. Probably several of his friends felt as he did, but they did not speak of their feelings to each other.
Sunday came; they went, as usual, to church. Poor Mr Sanford was too ill to go.
“And we are preparing a terrible annoyance for him to-morrow,” thought Digby.
They walked out afterwards, in close order, with Mr Yates at their head, and Mr Tugman, who brought up the rear, watching that no one wandered on either side. They went again to church in the afternoon; and all the rest of the time was occupied in talking over their plans for the following day. They were to get up an hour before anybody was likely to be astir in the house, and assemble, with their jugs and basins of water, in the play-room. All the schoolroom shutters were to be brought into the play-room, as well as all valuables from the desks. All the books were to be collected, either to serve as missiles, or to be burned; that was not quite settled. Meantime, a party were to pay a visit to the coal-cellar and wood-yard, and to bring in a supply of coals. There were other minor arrangements, into which it is not necessary to enter.
On Sunday night, the boys went quietly to bed. At half-past four, one or two awoke, and they roused up the rest. All were soon on foot.
“I say, Newland, don’t you feel as if you were going into a battle?” said Digby.
“Just as I can fancy soldiers feel,” answered Paul.
“One satisfaction is that the row must soon begin,” said Digby. “I hate having to wait for anything of the sort.”
They spoke in whispers. They were ordered to take their pillows with them to serve as shields, if necessary, and to carry their shoes in their pockets. They all very quickly slipped downstairs. Digby and Newland, with four others, found themselves again told off to go and fetch coals and wood, an expedition of some considerable hazard. However, they none of them flinched, though, as Digby said, he felt very much as if he was committing larceny. Each carried a pillowcase, into which it was intended to put the coals or the faggots. It was broad daylight. They had several passages to traverse, and what was worse, some of the servants’ rooms to pass near. On they went however.
“It must be done, though,” whispered Digby to Newland.
They were afraid of the noise they must make in turning the keys, withdrawing the bolts, and lifting the latches. The last door was reached; they succeeded in opening it, and into the coal-yard they hurried. It did not take them long to put as much coal into their pillow-cases as they could carry. Those directed to carry faggots had more bulky loads, but not so heavy. They forgot to close the door as they returned laden with their booty.
