“What has a fellow got to do?” asked Wyndham.
“You have to issue the new books every Monday and collect the old ones every Saturday. There are about one hundred boys subscribe, and they order the new book when they give up the old, so it’s simple enough.”
“Takes a lot of time, doesn’t it?” said Wyndham.
“No, not very much, I believe. Isaacs shirked it a good deal, and you’d have to keep the lists rather better than he did. But I fancy you’d enjoy it rather; and,” he added, “it will be an excuse for seeing less of some not very nice friends.”
Wyndham said he would take the post, and went off happier in his own mind than he had been for a long time, and leaving Riddell happier too, despite all his failures and vexations elsewhere, than he had been since he became captain of Willoughby.
But, though happy, he could hardly be elated. His effort that evening had certainly been a success, but how long would its effects last?
Riddell was not fool enough to imagine that his promise to old Wyndham was now discharged by that one evening’s talk. He knew the boy well enough to be sure that the task was only just begun. And his thankfulness at having made a beginning was tempered with many anxieties for the future. And he might well be anxious!
For a day or two Wyndham was an altered boy. He surprised his masters by his attention in class, and his schoolfellows — all except Riddell — by the steadiness of his behaviour. He avoided his former companions, and devoted himself with enthusiasm to his new duties as librarian, to which the doctor, at Riddell’s suggestion, had appointed him.
This alteration, approved of as it was in many quarters, was by no means appreciated by two boys at Willoughby. It was not that they cared twopence about the society of their young Limpet, or that they had any moral objection to good behaviour and steady work. What irritated Gilks and Silk over the business was that they saw in it the hand of an enemy, and felt that the present change in their
was due to Riddell’s influence in opposition to their own. The two monitors felt hurt at this; it was like a direct snub aimed at them, and, considering the quarter from which it came, they did not like it at all.
“This sort of thing won’t do,” said Gilks to his friend one day, shortly after Riddell’s talk with Wyndham. “The young ’un’s cut our acquaintance.”
“Hope we shall recover in time,” said Silk, sneering. “Yes; he’s gone decidedly ‘pi.’ the last week.”
“It’s all that reverend prig’s doing!” growled Gilks. “I mean to spoil his little game for him, though,” added he. “How’ll you do it?” asked Silk. “That’s just it! I wish I knew,” said Gilks.
“Oh! leave it to me, I’ll get at him somehow. I don’t suppose he’s too far gone yet.”
Accordingly Silk took an early opportunity of meeting his young friend.
“Ah! Wyndham,” said he, casually; “don’t see much of you now.”
“No,” said Wyndham, shortly; “I’m busy with the library.”
“Oh! I’m afraid, though, you’re rather glad of an excuse to cut Silks and me after the row we got you into last week.”
“You didn’t get me into any row,” said Wyndham. “What! didn’t he lick you for it? Ah! I see how it is. He’s afraid you’d let out on him for being down too. Rather a good dodge too. Gilks and I half thought of reporting him, but we didn’t.”
“He had a permit, hadn’t he?”
“Oh, yes — rather! I don’t doubt that. Just like Brown’s, the town boy’s excuses. Writes them himself.”
“I’m certain Riddell wouldn’t do such a thing,” said Wyndham, warming.
“I never said he would,” replied Silk, seeing he was going a little too far. “You see, captains don’t want permits. There’s no one to pull them up. But I say, I’m awfully sorry about last week.”
“Oh! it doesn’t matter,” said Wyndham, who could not help being rather gratified to hear a monitor making apologies to him; “only I don’t mean to go down again.”
“No, of course not; and if Gilks suggests it I’ll back you up. By the way,” he added, in tones of feigned alarm, “I suppose you didn’t tell him about going to Beamish’s, did you?”
“No,” said Wyndham, whose conscience had already reproached him several times for not having confessed the fact.
“I’m awfully glad of that,” said Silk, apparently much relieved. “Whatever you do, keep that quiet.”
“Why?” said Wyndham, rather concerned.
“My dear fellow, if that got out — well, I don’t know what would happen.”
“Why, is it a bad place, then?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” laughed Silk with a mysterious wink. “All serene for follows like Gilks; but if it was known we’d taken
“Promise you won’t tell anybody,” said Silk.
“Of course I won’t,” said Wyndham, rather scornful at the idea of telling tales of a schoolfellow.
“Thanks; and I’ll take care and say nothing about you, and Gilks won’t either, I know. So it’ll be all right. I don’t know what possessed the fellow to suggest going in there.”
All this was somewhat perplexing to Wyndham. He had never imagined Beamish’s was such a terrible place, or that the penalty of being found there was so severe. He felt that he had had a fortunate escape, and was glad Silk had put him up to it before he had let it out.
He became more friendly with his ally after this. There is always a bond of attraction where a common danger threatens, and Wyndham felt that, however determined he was not to be led away any more by these friends of his, it was just as well to be civil to them.
So he even accepted an invitation to come and have tea in Silk’s room that evening, to look at a volume of “Punch” the latter had got from home, and to talk over the coming boat-race.
Had he overheard a hurried conversation which took place between Silk and Gilks shortly afterwards in the Sixth Form room he would have looked forward to that evening with anything but eagerness.
“Well?” asked Gilks.
“Hooked him, I fancy,” said Silk. “He’s coming to tea this evening.”
“Good man. How did you manage it?”
“Oh, and by the way,” said Silk, “that going to Beamish’s last week was no end of a crime. If it’s found out it’s expulsion, remember. He believes it all. I’ve told him we won’t let out on him, and he’s promised not to say a word about it. Fancy we’ve rather a pull on him there.”
“You’re a jolly clever fellow, Silk,” said Gilks, admiringly.
“May be, but I’m not such a nice boy as you are, Gilks.”
Chapter Eleven
The Schoolhouse Boat at Work
Giles and his ally knew their business well enough to see that they must go to work “gingerly” to recover their lost Limpet. Consequently when Wyndham, according to promise, turned up to tea in Silk’s study, nothing was said or done in any way likely to offend his lately awakened scruples.
The tea was a good one, the volume of “Punch” was amusing, and the talk confined itself almost altogether to school affairs, and chiefly to the coming boat-race.
This last subject was one of intense interest to young Wyndham. As brother to the old captain, he was naturally eager to see his brother’s boat retain its old position on the river; and as an ardent schoolhouse boy himself, he had a further reason for wishing the same result.
“You know,” said he, “I think our fellows are looking up, don’t you, Gilks?”
“So fellows say,” replied Gilks; “of course, being in the boat myself, it’s hard to tell.”
“But doesn’t the boat seem to be going better?” asked Wyndham. “It looks to be going a lot better from the bank.”
“But you don’t mean to say, young un,” said Silk, “you ever expect the schoolhouse will beat Parrett’s?”
“I’m afraid they are rather strong,” said Wyndham, regretfully.
“Strong!” said Silk; “they’re the finest crew Willoughby’s turned out for years. Better even than the one your brother stroked last races.”
“And they mean winning, too,” said Gilks, “from all I hear. They’re specially set on it because they think they’ve been snubbed over the captaincy, and mean to show they
“I hope you’ll back us,” said Wyndham, earnestly.
“Of course, old Gilks is one of your crew,” said Silk.
“You know,” said the boy, “I’d give anything for our boat to win. It would be such a score for us, after all that has been said, wouldn’t it, Gilks?”
“Well, fellows haven’t been very complimentary about the schoolhouse lately, certainly,” said Gilks.
“No, they certainly haven’t,” replied Wyndham. “By the way, Gilks, what sort of cox does Riddell make?”
“Rather an amusing one, from all I can hear,” said Gilks. “He’s not steered the four yet; but he’s had some tub practice, and is beginning to find out that the natural place for a boat is between the banks instead of on them.”
“Oh,” said Wyndham, “I heard Fairbairn say he promised very well. He’s a light-weight, you know, and as the juniors are all stopped river-play, we shall have to get a cox. And if Riddell will do, it won’t be a bad thing any way.”
“I’m rather surprised they didn’t try you for it,” said Gilks. “You’re well-known, you know, and used to the river.”
“Oh, I’d rather Riddell did it if he can,” said Wyndham. “I know he’s awfully anxious to get it up.”
The talk went on like this, and trenched on no uncomfortable topic. The only reference to anything of the sort was when Silk said, just as Wyndham was going, “Oh, Wyndham, I’ve told Gilks here that you’ve promised not to let out about Beamish’s—”
“Yes,” said Gilks, “I wouldn’t care for that to get about, young un.”
“Oh, of course I won’t say anything,” said Wyndham.
“Thanks, no more will we; will we, Silk?” replied Gilks.
Silk assented and their visitor departed.
“Young fool!” said Gilks, when he and his friend were left alone. “He’s not worth bothering about.”
“If it weren’t for the other prig I’d agree with you,” said Silk. “But don’t you think we can hit at his reverence occasionally through his disciple?”
“I dare say,” said Gilks. “The young prig had an innocent enough time of it to-night to suit even him. How he does talk!”
“Yes, and isn’t he hot about the race? I say, Gilks, I hope there’ll be no mistake about Parrett’s winning. I’ve a lot of money on them.”
“Never fear,” said Gilks. “It’ll be rather a rum thing if I, rowing in the schoolhouse boat, can’t put the drag on them somehow. I don’t expect for a moment it will be wanted; but if it is, Gilks will be under the painful necessity of catching a crab!”
“I don’t mind how you do it as long as there’s no mistake about it,” said Silk. With which ungenerous admission Gilks produced a couple of cigar-ends from his pocket, and these two nice boys proceeded to spend a dissipated evening.
The reader will have guessed from what has already been said that the coming boat-race was every day becoming a more and more exciting topic in Willoughby. Under any circumstances the race was, along with the May sports and the cricket-match against Rockshire, one of the events of the year. But this year, ever since it had come somehow to be mixed up with the squabble about the captaincy, and the jealousy between Parrett’s and the schoolhouse, it had become more important than ever.
Old Wyndham had, of course, left the schoolhouse boat at the head of the river, but there was scarcely a boy (even in the schoolhouse itself) who seriously expected it would remain there over the coming regatta.
The Parrett’s fellows were already crowing in anticipation, and the victory of Bloomfield’s boat was only waited for as a final ground for resisting the authority of any captain but their own. Their boat was certainly one of the best which the school had turned out, and compared with their competitors’ it seemed as if nothing short of a miracle could prevent its triumph.
But the schoolhouse fellows, little as they expected to win, were meaning to make a hot fight of it. They were on their mettle quite as much as their rivals. Ever since Wyndham had left, the schoolhouse had been sneered at as having no pretensions left to any athletic distinction. They meant to put themselves right in this particular — if not in victory, at any rate in a gallant attempt.
And so the schoolhouse boat might be seen out early and late, doing honest hard work, and doing it well too. Strict training was the order of the day, and scarcely a day passed without some one of the crew adding to his usual labours a cross-country run, or a hard grind in the big tub, to better his form. These extraordinary exertions were a source of amusement to their opponents, who felt their own superiority all the more by witnessing the efforts put forth to cope with it; and even in the schoolhouse there were not a few who regarded all the work as labour thrown away, and as only adding in prospect to the glorification of the enemy.
However, Fairbairn was not the man to be moved by small considerations such as these. He did not care what fellows said, or how much they laughed, as long as Porter swung out well at the reach forward, and Coates straightened his back, and Gilks pulled his oar better through from beginning to end. To secure these ends he himself was game for any amount of work and trouble, and no cold water could damp either his ardour or his hopefulness.
But the chief sensation with regard to the training of the schoolhouse boat was the sudden appearance of Riddell as its coxswain. As the reader has heard, the new captain had already been out once or twice “on the quiet” in the pair-oar, and during these expeditions he had learned all he knew of the art of navigation. The idea of his steering the schoolhouse boat had never occurred either to himself or Fairbairn when he first undertook these practices at the solicitation of his friend. But after a lesson or two he showed such promise that the idea did strike Fairbairn, who mentioned it to one or two of his set and asked their advice.
These judges were horrified naturally at the idea. Riddell was too heavy, too clumsy, too nervous. But Fairbairn was loth to give up his idea; so he went to Mr Parrett, and asked him if he would mind running with the schoolhouse pair-oar during the next morning’s spin, and watching the steering of the new captain. Mr Parrett did so; and was not a little pleased with the performance, but advised Fairbairn to try him in the four-oar before deciding.
Fairbairn, delighted, immediately broached the subject to his friend. Poor Riddell was astounded at such a notion.
“What do you mean — that it’s
“No,” said he, “the only question is your weight. You’d have to run off a bit of that, you know.”