"GUNPOWDER, TREASON, AND PLOT."
"There will be no fireworks this year."
"_There will be no fireworks this year._" Page 145.]
From the consternation depicted on the faces of the sixty odd boys towhom this announcement was made, it might have been supposed that theyhad just heard there would be a famine in the land, or that some othercalamity of an equally serious nature was about to befall them.
Mr. Chard, the headmaster of Yatby Grammar School, was the speaker. Hehad held this position since the commencement of the winter term, and itwas now the 2nd of November.
"I don't intend there should be any more of these firework displays," hecontinued. "They are dangerous, and often result in accidents, theconsequences of which have to be suffered for a lifetime. As you know, Iam anxious to encourage healthy outdoor sport, and in fact any kind ofrational amusement; but I see no object in these gunpowder carnivals,and the subscription which Brookfield says you received on formeroccasions from the headmaster I will hand over to the treasurer of theGames Club. Pass on in order."
Desk after desk, the boys filed out of the big schoolroom into thesquare, gravelled playground at the back of the school buildings, where,freed from the enforced silence of assembly, the air was immediatelyfilled with a babel of voices.
"No fireworks!" cried one; "what rot!"
"Well, I do call this beastly shabby!" exclaimed another. "Old Gregorynever objected to our having fireworks on the Fifth, and why shouldChard?"
Away in one corner Brookfield, the captain of the football club, and aleading spirit among the boarders, stood addressing a little group ofhis companions.
"I stopped him in the passage this morning," said Brookfield, "and askedhim if he would give us something towards our fireworks, as Mr. Gregoryused to. He said at once that he didn't intend there should be anyfireworks this year, and that he would mention it at the close ofmorning school."
"I call it a bit too thick," continued the speaker, working himself upinto a great state of excitement. "He's been altering rules eversince he came until the place is becoming a regular dame's school. Ibelieve, if he had his way, we should do nothing but work, and go outwalking two and two."
"He isn't quite so bad as that," said Collins. "You must admit he'staken more interest in footer than Gregory ever did. He saw that we hada new set of goal-posts, and made better arrangements for the matches."
"Ye-es," admitted Brookfield reluctantly. "But he's made no end ofvexatious little rules that we never had before. Why shouldn't we gointo town when we like, instead of having to ask permission, and haveour names entered in a book? Then what's the object in our being obligedto go into certain shops only? and why should we have half an hour'sextra work before breakfast?"
The audience nodded. That having to get up half an hour earlier,especially on cold winter mornings, was certainly a sore point witheverybody.
"Now," went on Brookfield, "we aren't to have any more fireworks; andwhy? Just because he chooses to think we're such babies that we shouldblow ourselves up with a pinch of powder. I tell you he's come here withthe notion that this place is an old dame's school, and it's high timewe showed him it isn't."
"How?" inquired Shadbury, moodily grinding his heel into the dampgravel.
"How? Why, all take a stand, and show him we don't mean to put up withany more of this humbug."
"Oh yes," answered Shadbury, with a smile of incredulity. "I fancy I seeus doing it, and then getting packed off home next morning."
"Not a bit of it!" returned Brookfield, whose ideas were fast shapingthemselves into a definite line of thought. "The only thing is, we mustall pull together. Take, for instance, a strike. If one workman came andsaid he wouldn't work unless he had higher wages, why, he'd simply betold to take his hat and go; but if all the hands in a factory agree togo out at the same time, their employer's bound to listen, for if hesacked the whole lot, why, his business would come to a standstill. It'sthe same in this case: Chard might expel one fellow, but he couldn'tsend every chap in the place going, or the school would cease to exist,and he'd get into trouble with the governors."
"Yes," answered Collins, "that's all very well; but in instances of thiskind they have a way of picking out the ringleaders and making anexample of them, and giving all the others a milder punishment."
"Pish!" retorted Brookfield. "There'd be no ringleaders. What I shouldsay is, let every chap buy some fireworks, and then on the Fifth we'llrush out and let them off after prep., whether Chard says we may or not.He can but keep us all in for an afternoon, and it'll teach him not tointerfere with our privileges. I'll do it if any one else will."
Among the bystanders was Jarvis, a reckless young ne'er-do-weel. "Allright; I'm game," he cried. "Now then, we must get the other fellows topromise."
There is a certain flavour of romance in a rebellion which has broughtabout the undoing of many a hot-headed youth, who perhaps had no deepconcern in the cause of the rising; and the scheme mooted by Brookfieldappealed to the more adventurous spirits among his school-fellows. Inaddition to this, it was a fact that the school, as a whole, were highlyindignant at the headmaster's edict. As far back as any boy of thepresent generation could remember, there had always been fireworks onthe Fifth; and to rob a boy of a legitimate excuse for burning gunpowderis to touch him on his tenderest place.
The afternoon which followed the conversation which has just beenrecorded was, in itself, conducive to the spread of any mischief whichmight be afoot. It was too wet for football; the rain fell in a steadydownpour, and the boys were confined to the schoolroom and passages, orthe gymnasium shed in the yard.
Brookfield and Jarvis moved from one group to another; they buttonholedclassmates in out-of-the-way corners, and joined themselves to thelittle crowd that had collected before the schoolroom fire. In each casethey commenced a conversation with some remark about the fireworks; thetalk would grow more confidential, and be carried on in lower tonesuntil it probably ended in nods and winks. Even Mr. Wills and Mr.Draper, the two assistant masters, were boldly questioned as to whetherthey didn't consider it a shame that the fireworks should be forbidden;but both gentlemen were too discreet to offer any opinion. Mr. Chard hadsaid there was not to be a display this year, and that was enough forthem.
By the end of the afternoon all the boarders had been sounded. Some werenever expected to share in any act of lawlessness or bad behaviour, butthe majority had proved themselves ripe for mischief by agreeing to takean active part in the conspiracy.
At tea, though several of the small boys' faces were flushed withexcitement, there was an ominous calm, the meal being partaken of in asilence which, to a keen observer, might have suggested the thought thatsomething was going to happen.
On the following afternoon Brookfield and Jarvis, together with twoother boys named Perry and Roden, who had both fallen in heartily withthe scheme, held a consultation just before tea in a corner of the shed.
By this time things had progressed so far that it was tacitly understoodthat all arrangements for the execution of the plot should be left inthe hands of the four boys mentioned, one of whom, it was agreed, shouldpurchase the fireworks, and thus lessen the risk which would be run if anumber of boys entered the shop at different times. Meeting thus in thedarkness made the business in hand seem almost as exciting as if it weresome part of the original Gunpowder Plot, and the conspirators conversedin tones raised little above a whisper.
"Now look here," began Brookfield. "All the fellows have given me whatmoney they mean to subscribe, and the first question is, Who's to getthe fireworks?"
"Draw lots," suggested Perry.
"Oh no!" broke in Jarvis. "You get them, Brookfield; and while you're inthe shop I'll keep _cave_ at one end of the street, and Perry and Rodencan at the other. Get the things done up in three packets, and we canstick them under our jackets."
"All right. And what am I to get?"
The question was one which, on former occasions, had been a difficultone
to answer; the proper proportion of rockets, Roman candles, colouredfire, and other combustibles which should be procured to make up aproper display, always needing a good deal of discussion before anythinglike a satisfactory conclusion could be arrived at. Certain boys hadalways clamoured for a set piece, while others had yearned to fireshells from a mortar. This year, however, it seemed likely that thedisplay would not be of the kind previously attempted, but wouldprobably be subjected to an abrupt interruption before it had progressedmany minutes.
"Get something that will go off easily," said Jarvis--"mostly squibs andcrackers, I should say. It's more for the lark of the thing, and to showChard we don't mean to knuckle under, than for the sake of a show. Ishould say, get it all over in ten minutes, and hook it. Then there'd besome chance of escaping without being collared."
"There's one other thing," said Brookfield. "Where shall we keep thefireworks when we've got them? It won't do to put them in desks andlockers; they might be seen."
"I'll tell you what," said Roden. "Put them in that chest over there inthe corner. It's got nothing in it but dumb-bells, and they won't betouched again before we have drill on Monday."
There was a pause as the four conspirators stood considering whetherthere was any other matter which it would be well for them to discussbefore separating. As they hesitated, somewhere in the darkness therewas a slight shuffle.
"Hush! What's that?" whispered Perry.
The exclamation was followed by a patter of feet outside in theplayground.
"Some young beggar must have been hiding away here," muttered Jarvis,"and has just bolted. Let's see after him."
"Bother it! He must have heard what we have been talking about. He maylet the cat out of the bag."
"No fear," answered Roden. "Every one knows now what's going to happen,and nobody would dare to go and sneak to Chard."
"I hope it wasn't that little rascal Downing," said Brookfield uneasily,as he prepared to return to the schoolroom. "He's such a dirty youngtoady, always trying to curry favour with Draper or Wills; and of courseif it got to their ears, it's as bad as if any one had told old Chardhimself."
"Oh, there's no danger of that!" said Jarvis, as the quartet saunteredslowly across the gravel. "Young Downing has too much regard for his ownskin to do a thing of that kind. He'd know too well what he mightexpect. Besides, there's no reason to suppose it was Downing."
"No, only it's just like one of the little wretch's sly, sneakingtricks," answered Brookfield, and so the conversation ended.
As might have been expected, those day boys to whom the project wasmentioned displayed no great readiness to take part in the rebellion.Most of them had private celebrations of the Fifth at their own homes,or were invited to assist at similar undertakings at the houses offriends, and for this reason were unwilling to go out of their way tojoin in a spree which might be followed by serious results. Only one, anarrant duffer nicknamed "Sloper," from some supposed facial resemblanceto that popular hero, volunteered to assist, and that in a manner whichcould scarcely be said to entail any special display of courage.
"Let me know what time it happens," he said, "and I'll come outside, andchuck squibs over the wall."
One boy alone tried to use his influence in such a manner as to preventthe revolt taking place, and he was a senior named John Oliver, who satnext in form order to the head of the school. The conspirators had nottaken him into their confidence, feeling pretty certain that he wouldnot approve of the project; but from remarks let fall by one andanother, he could form a pretty shrewd guess as to what was intended.
"Look here," he said, encountering Brookfield as the latter stoodwarming his hands at a coil of hot-water pipes in the hall. "What's allthis nonsensical talk about letting off fireworks to-morrow?"
"Who's talking about it?" asked the football captain with a grin.
"Oh, nearly everybody; and they say you're at the head of it all. Don'tthink I'm such a deaf and blind old moke that I don't know what's goingon in the place."
Brookfield liked Oliver, who played full back with him in the team; hemight have resented another boy's right to cross-examine him, but Oliverwas an old friend, and could never be regarded as strait-laced or aprig.
"Well, what if I am at the head of it? I haven't asked you to join," wasthe laughing retort.
"Now don't you be a fool, Brooky!" said Oliver earnestly. "There's nosense in it, I tell you. Chard'll be frightfully angry about it. Some ofyou will get expelled before you've finished, and we can't afford tolose our football captain."
"Oh, don't you fret yourself, old man," was the careless rejoinder. "Iknow how to take care of myself--of that you may be certain."
* * * * *
The eventful Fifth dawned as any other dull November day might, and bythe end of the afternoon all preparations had been made. A good stock ofexplosives had been obtained and stowed away under an old bit of sackingin the chest with the dumb-bells. Out of the thirty-four boarders,twenty-six had promised to take part in the demonstration, and all hadbeen carefully instructed how to act. As Brookfield explained, onlyunited action on the part of all would prevent vengeance being taken onindividuals. It would be impossible for Mr. Chard to expel twenty-sixboys in a lump, and an imposition or the loss of a half-holiday wouldnot be too heavy a price to pay for the lark and excitement.
The conspirators were all provided with boxes of fusees. As soon aspreparation was ended, the whole body were to rush out to the gymnasiumshed in the playground, and there receive their supply of ammunition. Asharp fusillade of squibs and crackers was to be kept up for about tenminutes, at the end of which time the headmaster might be expected to beapproaching the scene of action; then the signal would be given to ceasefire, and the rebels were to "make tracks" as speedily as possible.
"I know what it'll be," said Brookfield. "He'll ring the bell, and orderus to assemble in the schoolroom. Then he'll ask who's been letting offfireworks, and when he does we must all stand up together, and that'llshow him we don't mean to be treated like babies in future. There musn'tbe any shirking; if there is, the fellow will catch it hot, I promisehim."
All the twenty-six professed themselves ready to carry out theseinstructions to the letter; never were champions of liberty in suchdeadly earnest before.
If there were any whose hearts began to fail them as the appointed hourdrew nearer, they gave no outward sign of lessening determination. Someyoung madcaps, who never counted the cost of a lark, looked forward tothe revolt as a huge joke; others, who had more sense, but who hadpromised to take part in the display, may have been ashamed to draw backat the last moment.
Among the latter, strange to say, might possibly have been numbered thepromoter and leading spirit of the whole business. He and Jarvis hadslipped out before tea to make sure that the fireworks were safe in thechest.
"I say," he muttered, as they lingered for a moment before returning,"you and I'll catch it hot over this affair."
"How d'you mean?"
"Why, Chard will be sure to drop on us more than on fellows lower downin the school. I shouldn't wonder if he expels us both."
"Well, let him; I don't care," answered Jarvis recklessly. "You've beentelling a different tale all along; if you're afraid of theconsequences, why in the name of fortune did you ever set the thinggoing?"
"Oh, I'm not afraid," answered Brookfield with a short laugh. "I onlysaid what he _might_ do, if he chooses to regard us as the ringleaders.By the way, I saw that little rascal Downing talking to Wills thismorning. I wish I knew for certain if it was that young beggar who washiding away here yesterday."
"It seems to me you're getting in a funk already," cried Jarvis. "Buckup! You aren't the sort of chap to lead a forlorn hope. Come on; there'sthe bell!"
That evening's "prep." seemed the longest that the boys had ever known.Mr. Draper was on duty. He stood three youngsters out for inattention,and reprimanded and cautioned a number of others. Firework displays hadalready begun in the t
own; muffled pops and bangs, and the occasionalflare of a soaring rocket seen through the neighbouring windows, allserved to keep the subdued excitement up to concert pitch. The sound ofwhispering and the restless shuffling of feet broke the usual stillnessof the room, in spite of the sharp demands for silence repeatedly madeby the assistant master.
Presently the door opened, and Mr. Chard himself entered the schoolroom.His eye fell on the three luckless urchins standing in the centre aisle,and his brow contracted into a frown.
"What have these boys been doing?" he asked.
"They have been very inattentive," answered Mr. Draper. "In fact, I'vebeen obliged to say I should keep the whole assembly for an extrahalf-hour unless they did more work."
Something seemed to have ruffled the headmaster's temper.
"I suppose this is owing to the decision I came to about the fireworks,"he said sharply. "If so, let it be clearly understood I won't stand anyinsubordination of that kind. Go on with your work at once. If I findto-morrow that any boy has been wilfully idle and inattentive, I shallpunish him severely."
Slowly the hands of the clock crept round the dial; then at last theystood at half-past eight.
It was with a more than usually audible sigh of relief that the boysobeyed Mr. Draper's order to put away their books; and now came thecrucial moment, thoughts of which had been in nearly every one's mindfor the last three days.
Brookfield did not hesitate. Having gained the passage, he produced hiscap from his pocket, and ran straight out into the playground. He wasclosely followed by Jarvis, Roden, and Perry, and behind them came astraggling line of dark forms. It was not a good night for fireworks,for the moon was shining, but its light enabled Brookfield to see andmarshal his followers.
Half-way across the playground he stopped.
"Hullo!" he cried in a low tone. "This isn't all. Where are the others?"
Only eight boys had turned out in addition to those whose names havebeen mentioned, so that the whole party numbered a round dozen. Wherewere the twenty-six?
"Where are the others?" repeated the leader, as the stragglers,breathing hard with excitement, came up and formed round him in a group.
"They've funked!" growled a voice in the gloom. "I thought from thefirst some of them would."
"Beastly sneaks!" added another. "I collared hold of young Thomas andtried to make him come, but he wouldn't."
For a second time in the history of the project Brookfield hesitated.Here was an end to all his ideas of united action, and the wholeresponsibility for the rebellion would rest on the shoulders of himselfand the few bolder spirits who stood before him. He could not draw backnow--it would be too much of a climb-down; and it would never do forhim, the football captain, to show the white feather.
"Come on! Don't waste time!" muttered Jarvis, but not in quite such aconfident tone as that in which he usually spoke.
"Come on, then!" repeated the leader desperately. And turning on hisheel he made for the adjacent wooden building styled on the prospectusthe "gymnasium," but commonly known among the boys as the "shed."
Exactly what happened next perhaps Brookfield alone could afterwardsclearly explain, and he was rather chary of repeating his experience.He opened the door and went cautiously forward in the darkness, feelinghis way with outstretched hand to prevent his coming into violentcollision with the parallel and horizontal bars. The windows, which informer times had been constantly broken with tennis balls in a gameknown as "shed cricket," were protected with wire latticing, and thisserved to obscure the struggling moonbeams which faintly illuminated thefarther end of the building.
Exactly how or when he first caught sight of it, Brookfield could hardlyhave told, but as he neared the chest in which the fireworks werestored, he became conscious of the presence of _something_ standing inwhat was usually an empty corner.
The moonlight strengthening, or his own eyes becoming every instant moreaccustomed to the gloom, enabled him to make out a tall, dark figure,erect and motionless as a statue; then his heart gave a jump as herecognized the outlines of a mortar-board and gown.
In an instant he realized that he and his comrades had walked into atrap; and without a second's hesitation he turned and bolted, cominginto violent collision with Jarvis and Roden, who were following closelyon his heels.
"_Cave!_--_Scoot!_"
The retreat became a rout. At the moment no one clearly understood whatwas the matter; but those who had not entered the shed, seeing theircompanions rush out like rabbits from a furze bush, joined in thestampede.
As they ran, and as if to increase their confusion and hasten theirflight, a big squib came whizzing over the playground wall and explodedwith a bang in their very midst. This single firework formed the wholeof Sloper's contribution to the entertainment; for, finding that therewas no response, he came to the wise conclusion that something must havehappened; and so, putting the rest of the squibs in his pocket, he ranoff home.
It was not until the entrance to the school building was reached thatBrookfield found breath enough to gasp out,--
"'Twas old Chard himself! I nearly walked into his arms! Some one'ssplit, and he was waiting there to collar the whole pack of us!"
Shamefacedly, and with looks of apprehension, the discomfited bandassembled in the schoolroom for prayers.
"Hullo!" whispered Oliver to Brookfield in a bantering tone. "How aboutthe firework display?"
The football captain was in no mood for joking, and answered with asurly "Shut up!" He was momentarily expecting the door to open, and theheadmaster to enter and commence an investigation.
To the surprise of at least a dozen young gentlemen, nothing of the sorthappened. Mr. Draper read prayers, and gave the order to pass on to bed.
Brookfield was the senior in charge of No. 5 Dormitory, and all theother occupants of the room being numbered among the faithful dozen whohad mustered in the playground, the conversation naturally turned on theunexpected termination to their adventure.
"How is it Chard has said nothing? Perhaps he won't kick up a row afterall."
"Oh, won't he! He's keeping it till to-morrow; don't you fret."
"Who could have told him?"
"Why, that young sneak of a Downing," said Brookfield, getting into bed."He told Wills. I'll half kill that young hound in the morning!"
The getting-up bell rang at the accustomed time, and early schoolproceeded as usual. This suspense was worse almost than the row itself,and Brookfield began to wish that the thundercloud would break.
At length the dreaded moment seemed to have arrived, when at the end ofbreakfast the headmaster rose from his chair and rapped on the table asa signal for silence. Jarvis and Roden exchanged a meaning glance, whichwas repeated between other boys at different tables.
"I told you the other day that I did not wish you to have anyfireworks," began Mr. Chard. "It is not my intention to take away anylegitimate enjoyment to which you have been accustomed, without, ifpossible, giving you something in its place; and as it is a fine day, Ishall grant a half-holiday for a special game of football."
There was a burst of applause as the boys rose from their seats; butBrookfield, without waiting to join in the cheers, slipped out of theroom and made for the entrance to the playground. Half-way across thestretch of gravel he heard footsteps behind him, and turning saw Jarvisfollowing at top speed. The same thought had evidently suggested itselfto them both--a possible solution of the mystery.
Rushing into the empty shed, they paused, and then burst into a laugh.
"Well, I'm blest!" cried Jarvis. "We were a set of muffs! Fancy all ourgrand plot being knocked out by _that_!"
In one corner stood one upright of the high-jump gallows; about it washung an old tarpaulin; while perched on the top was a batteredmortar-board, the property of some departed hero.
"Some of the kids must have done this," said Brookfield--"the one whowas in here the other evening, and heard us talking. He slipped out lastnight, and rigged this up after tea.
It wasn't Downing, after all; but Iwouldn't mind betting sixpence 'twas young Markham."
"Cheeky little beggar!" cried Jarvis. "I saw him sniggering this morningat breakfast. I vote we haul him in here and give him a licking."
"Oh no!" answered Brookfield. "It's a jolly day for footer, and we'vegot the extra half, so perhaps it's as well this blessed guy did spoilour revolt."
* * * * *
The fireworks were subsequently disposed of on easy terms to the dayboys, and though the story soon leaked out among the boarders, causing agood deal of harmless chaff and hearty laughter, it is probable that Mr.Chard himself never knew how much he was indebted to an old tarpaulinand battered mortar-board for the part they had played in so effectivelynipping in the bud a promising rebellion.
Gunpowder Treason and Plot, and Other Stories for Boys Page 6
