CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
MR CRIPPS AT SAINT DOMINIC'S.
Oliver Greenfield's banishment from civilised society, however much itmay have gratified the virtuous young gentlemen of the Fifth, wasregarded by a small section of fellows in the Sixth with unmitigateddisgust. These fellows were the leading spirits of the Saint DominicFootball Club, which was just about to open proceedings for the season.To them the loss of the best half-back in the school was a desperatecalamity.
They raged and raved over the matter with all the fury of disappointedenthusiasts. _They_ didn't care a bit, it almost seemed, whether thefellow was a cheat or not. All they knew was, he was the quickesthalf-back and the safest drop-kick the school had, and here was thematch with Landfield coming on, and, lo and behold! their man was inCoventry, forsooth, and not to be had out for love or money. Thusbaulked, the Sixth Form athletes could afford to wax very virtuous andphilanthropic on the subject of Coventry generally.
"The Doctor ought to put a stop to it," said Stansfield, who this yearoccupied the proud position of captain of the fifteen.
"Why, we've not got a single man worth twopence behind the scrimmage!"
This was gratifying for Loman, one of the council of war, who usuallyplayed quarter or half-back in the matches.
"I don't see why we shouldn't get him to play if he _is_ at Coventry,"said Callonby; "_we_ didn't send him there."
"All very well," said the captain; "if we got him we should loseRicketts, and Bullinger, and Tom Senior, and Braddy, which would come toabout the same thing."
"And I shouldn't play either," said Loman, "if Greenfield played."
Stansfield shrugged his shoulders and looked vicious.
"All child's play!" said he. "They think it's very grand and a finespectacle and all that. But they ought to have more consideration forthe credit of the school."
"It's not much to the credit of the school," said Loman, "to have afellow like him in the fifteen."
"It's less credit to have a pack of louts who tumble head over heelsevery time they try to pick up a ball, and funk a charge twice out ofevery thrice!" retorted Stansfield, who was one of the peppery order."Greenfield's worth any half-dozen of you, I tell you."
"Better get him to play Landfield by himself," growled Loman, whogenerally got the worst of it in discussions like this.
"It's a plaguey nuisance, that's what it is," said Stansfield; "we aresure to get licked. Who's to play half-back instead of him, I'd like toknow?"
"Forrester, in the Fourth, plays a very good half-back," said Callonby;"he's tremendously quick on his feet."
"Yes, but he can't kick. I've a good mind to put Wraysford in theplace. And yet he's such a rattling steady `back' I don't like to movehim."
"Wraysford told me yesterday," said Wren, "he wasn't going to play."
"What!" exclaimed Stansfield, starting up as if he had been shot."Wraysford not going to play!"
"So he said," replied Wren.
"Oh, this is a drop too much! Why ever not?"
"I don't know. He's been awfully down in the mouth lately; whether itis about the Nightingale, or--"
The captain gave a howl of rage.
"I wish that miserable brute of a Nightingale had been scragged, that Ido! Everything's stopped for the Nightingale! Who cares a button aboutthe thing, I'd like to know? Wraysford can get dozens more of themafter the football season's over. Why, the Doctor gave out anotherscholarship to be gone in for directly after Christmas, only to-day.Can't he go in for that?"
"So he will, I expect," said Wren; "but I don't fancy he'll play, allthe same, on Saturday."
Stansfield groaned. "There go my two best men," he said; "we may aswell shut up shop and go in for croquet."
A powerful deputation waited on Wraysford that same evening to try toprevail upon him to play in the fifteen. They had hard work to do it.He said he was out of form, and didn't feel in the humour, and wascertain they could get on well enough without him.
"Oh, no, we can't," said Stansfield. "I say, Wraysford," he added,bluntly, "I expect it's this Nightingale affair's at the bottom of allthis nonsense. Can't you possibly patch it up, at any rate till afterSaturday? I'd give my head to get you and Greenfield in the team."
"Do play, Wraysford," put in Callonby. "Don't let the school be beatenjust because you've got a row on with another fellow."
"It's not that at all," said Wraysford, feeling and looking veryuncomfortable. "It's nothing to do with that. It's just that I'm notin the humour. I'd really rather not."
"Oh, look here," cried Stansfield; "that won't wash. Come to oblige me,there's a good fellow."
In the end Wraysford gave in, and the captain went off half consoled tocomplete his preparations, and inveigh in his odd moments against allNightingales and Coventrys, and examinations, and all such enemies andstumbling-blocks to the glorious old English sport of football.
Loman looked forward to the coming match with quite good spirits.Indeed, it was a long time since he had felt or appeared solight-hearted.
That very day he had received a most unexpected present in the shape ofa five-pound note from an aunt, which sum he had promptly and virtuouslyput into an envelope and sent down to Mr Cripps in further liquidationof his "little bill." Was ever such luck? And next week the usualremittance from home would be due; there would be another three or fourpounds paid off. Loman felt quite touched at the thought of his ownhonesty and solvency. If only everybody in the world paid their debtsas he did, what a happy state of things it would be for the country!
So, as I said, Loman looked forward to the football match in quite goodspirits, just as a man who has been working hard and anxiously foreleven long months looks forward to his well-earned summer holiday.Things were looking up with him, and no mistake.
And then, just like his luck, the Doctor had that same day made theannouncement, already referred to, of another scholarship to be competedfor directly after Christmas. It was for Sixth form boys underseventeen, and he meant to go in for it! True, this scholarship wasonly for twenty pounds for a single year, but that was something. Asfar as he could see, Wraysford, who would get his move up at Christmas,would be the only man in against him, if he did go in, and he fancied hecould beat Wraysford. For in the Nightingale exam he had not reallytried his best, but this time he would and astonish everybody.Greenfield would scarcely go in for this exam, even if he got his moveup; it was safe to conclude his recent exploit would suffice him in theway of exams, for some time to come.
And then, what could be more opportune than its coming off just afterChristmas, at the precise time when Cripps would be looking for a finalsettlement of his account, or whatever little of it remained still topay! Oh, dear! oh, dear! What a thing it is to be straight and honest!Everything prospers with a man when he goes in for being honest! Why,Loman was positively being bathed in luck at the present time!
The Saturday came at last. Stansfield had drilled his men as well as hecould during the interval, and devoutly hoped that he had got arespectable team to cope with the Landfield fellows. If he could onlyhave been sure of his half-back he would have been quite happy; andnever a practice passed without his growling louder than ever at thedisgraceful custom of sending useful behind-scrimmage men to Coventry.At the last moment he decided to give the responsible post to Loman,rather than move forward Wraysford from his position at "back"; andLoman's usual place at quarter-back was filled up by young Forrester ofthe Fourth, greatly to that young gentleman's trepidation and to theexultation of the Fourth Senior as a body, who felt terrifically puffedup to have one of their men actually in the first fifteen.
Some of my readers may perhaps know from actual experience what are thenumerous and serious anxieties which always beset the captain of thefootball fifteen. If the fellow is worth his salt he knows to a nicetywhere he is strong and where he is weak; he knows, if the wind blows oneway, which is the best quarter-back to put on the left and which on theright. He kno
ws which of his "bulldogs" he can safely put into themiddle of the scrimmage, and which are most useful in the second tier.He knows when to call "Kick!" to a man and when to call "Run!" and noman knows better when to throw the ball far out from touch, or when tonurse it along close to the line. It is all very well for outsiders totalk of football everlastingly as a _game_. My dear, good people,football is a science if ever there was a science; the more you know ofit the more you will find that out.
This piece of lecturing is thrown in here for the purpose of observingthat Stansfield was a model football captain. However worried andworrying and crabby he was in his ordinary clothes, in his football togsand on the field of battle he was the coolest, quickest, readiest, andcunningest general you could desire. He said no more than he couldhelp, and never scolded his men while play was going on, and, best ofall, worked like a horse himself in the thick of the fight, and lookedto every one else to do the same.
Yet on this Saturday all the captain's prowess and generalship could notwin the match for Saint Dominic's against Landfield.
The match began evenly, and for the first half of the time the game wasone long succession of scrimmages in the middle of the ground, fromwhich the ball hardly ever escaped, and when it did, escaped only to bedriven back next moment into the "mush."
"It'll do at this rate!" thinks Stansfield to himself. "As long as theykeep it among the forwards we shan't hurt."
Alas! one might almost have declared some tell-tale evil spirit hadheard the boast and carried it to the ear of the enemy, for next momenthalf-time was called, the sides changed over, and with them theLandfielders completely reversed their tactics.
The game was no longer locked up in a scrimmage in the middle of theground. It became looser all along the line; the ball began to slipthrough the struggling feet into the hands of those behind, who sent itshooting over the heads of the forwards into more open ground. Thequarter-backs and half-backs on either side ran and got round thescrimmages; and when at last they were collared, took to ending up withan expiring drop-kick, which sent the ball far in the direction of thecoveted goals.
Nothing could have happened worse for Saint Dominic's, for the strainfell upon them just at their weakest point. Stansfield groaned as hesaw chance after chance missed behind his scrimmages. Young Forresterplayed pluckily and hard at quarter-back, and shirked nothing; but hecould not kick, and his short runs were consequently of little use.Callonby, of course, did good work, but Loman, the half-back, waswoefully unsteady.
"What a jackass I was to put the fellow there!" said Stansfield tohimself.
And yet Loman, as a rule, was a good player, with plenty of dash and nota little courage. It was odd that to-day he should be showing suchspecially bad form.
There goes the ball again, clean over the forwards' heads, straight forhim! He is going to catch it and run! No; he is not! He is going totake a flying kick! No, he is not; he is going to make his mark! No,he is not; he is going to dribble it through! Now if there is one thingfatal to football it is indecision. If you wobble about, so to speak,between half a dozen opinions, you may just as well sit down on theground where you are and let the ball go to Jericho. Loman getsflurried completely, and ends by giving the ball a miserable side-kickinto touch--to the extreme horror of everybody and the unmitigateddisgust of the peppery Stansfield.
Yet had the captain and his men known the cause of all this--had theybeen aware that that flash, half-tipsy cad of a fellow who, with half adozen of his "pals," was watching the match with a critical air, thereat the ropes was the landlord of the Cockchafer himself, the holder ofLoman's "little bill" for 30 pounds, they would perhaps have understoodand forgiven their comrade's clumsiness. But they did not.
Whatever had brought Cripps there? A thousand possibilities flashedthrough Loman's mind as he caught sight of his unwelcome acquaintance inthe middle of the match. Was he come to make a row about his moneybefore all the school? or had anything fresh turned up, or what? Andwhy on earth did he bring those other cads with him, all of whom Lomanrecognised as pot-house celebrities of his own acquaintance? No wonderif the boy lost his head and became flurried!
He felt miserable every time the ball flew over to Cripps's side of theground. There was a possibility the landlord of the Cockchafer had onlycome up out of curiosity, and, if so, might not have recognised hisyoung friend among the players. But this delusion was soon dispelled.
The ball went again into touch--this time close to the spot occupied bythe unwelcome group, and was about to be thrown out.
Stansfield signalled to Loman. "Go up nearer the line: close up."
Loman obeyed, and as he did so there fell on his ears, in familiartones, the noisy greeting, "What cheer, Nightingale? What cheer, myhearty? Stick to your man; eh, let him have it, Mr Loman! Two to onein half-sovereigns on Mr Loman."
A laugh greeted this encouraging appeal, in the midst of which Loman,knowing full well every one had heard every word, became completelydisconcerted, and let the ball go through his fingers as if it had beenquicksilver.
This was too much for Stansfield's patience.
"Go up forward, for goodness' sake," he exclaimed, "if you must play thefool! I'll go half-back myself."
Loman obeyed like a lamb, only too glad to lose himself in thescrimmages and escape observation.
The match went on--worse and worse for Saint Dominic's. DespiteStansfield's gallant efforts at half-back (where he had never playedbefore), despite Wraysford's steady play in goal, the ball worked upnearer and nearer the Dominican lines.
The Landfield men were quick enough to see the weak point of theirenemies, and make use of the discovery. They played fast and loose,giving the ball not a moment's peace, and above all avoiding scrimmages.The Saint Dominic's forwards were thus made practically useless, andthe brunt of the encounter fell on the four or five players behind, andthey were not equal to it.
The calamity comes at last. One of the Landfield men gets hold of theball, and runs down hard along the touch-line. Forrester is thequarter-back that side, and gallant as the Fourth Form boy is, his bigopponent runs over him as a mastiff runs over a terrier.
Stansfield, anticipating this, is ready himself at half-back, and itwill go hard with him indeed if he does not collar his man. Alas! justas the Landfielder comes to close quarters, and the Saint Dominic'scaptain grips him round the waist, the ball flies neatly back into thehands of another of the enemy, who, amid the shouts of his own men andthe crowd, makes off with it like fury, with a clear field before him,and only Wraysford between him and the Dominican goal.
"Look-out behind there!"
No need of such a caution to a "back" like Wraysford. He is lookingout, and has been looking out ever since the match began.
But if he had the eyes of an Argus, and the legs of an Atlas, he couldnot prevent that goal. For the Landfield man has no notion of coming toclose quarters; he is their crack drop-kick, and would be an ass indeedif he did not employ his talent with such a chance as this. He onlyruns a short way. Then he slackens pace. Wraysford rushes forward infront, the pursuing host rush on behind, but every one sees how it willbe. The fellow takes a deliberate drop-kick at the goal, and up fliesthe ball as true as a rocket, clean over the posts, as certain a goal asSaint Dominic's ever lost! It was no use crying over spilt milk, andfor the rest of the game Stansfield relaxed no efforts to stay the tideof defeat. And he succeeded too, for though the ball remaineddangerously near the school goal, and once or twice slipped behind, theenemy were unable to make any addition to their score before "Time" wascalled.
When the match was over, Loman tried his best to slip away unobserved byhis respectable town acquaintances; but they were far too polite toallow him.
"Well," cried Mr Cripps, coolly joining the boy as he walked with theother players back to the school--"well, you _do_ do it, you do. Blessme! I call that proper sport, I do. What do you put on the game, bobsor sovereigns, eh? Never mind, I and my pals we wa
nted a dander, so wethought we'd look you up, eh? You know Tommy Granger here? I heard himsaying as we came along he wondered what you'd stand to drink after itall."
All Loman could do was to stand still as soon as this talk began, andtrust his schoolfellows would walk on, and so miss all Mr Cripps'sdisgusting familiarities.
"I say," whispered he, in an agitated voice, "for goodness' sake goaway, Cripps! I shall get into an awful row if you don't."
"Oh, all serene, my young bantam," replied Cripps, aloud, and still inthe hearing of not a few of the boys. "I'll go if you want it soparticular as all that. _I_ can tear myself away. Only mind you comeand give us a look up soon, young gentleman, for I and my pals ain'tseen you for a good while now, and was afraid something was up. Ta! ta!Good-day, young gentlemen all. By-bye, my young Nightingales."
Loman's feelings can be more easily imagined than expressed when Cripps,saying these words, held out his hand familiarly to be shaken. The boydid shake it, as one would shake hands with a wolf, and then, utterlyashamed and disgraced, he made his way among his wondering schoolfellowsup to the school.
Was this his luck, after all? A monitor known to be the companion andfamiliar friend of the disreputable cad at the Cockchafer! The boy who,if not liked, had yet passed among most of his schoolfellows as asteady, well-conducted fellow, now suddenly shown up before the wholeschool like this!
Loman went his way to his study, feeling that the mask was pretty nearlyoff his face at last, and that Saint Dominic's knew him almost as hereally was. Yet did they know all?
As Loman passed Greenfield's study he stopped and peeped in at the door.The owner was sitting in his armchair, with his feet upon themantelpiece, laughing over a volume of _Pickwick_ till the tears came.And yet the crime Oliver was suspected of was theft and lying? Was itnot strange--must it not have struck Loman as strange, in all hismisery, that any one under such a cloud as Greenfield could think oflaughing, while _he_, under a cloud surely no greater, felt the mostmiserable boy alive!
The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story Page 29
