King of Ranleigh: A School Story

by F. S. Brereton

  CHAPTER VI

  CLIVE AND HIS FRIENDS TRIUMPHANT

  That shout for help brought a scurrying crowd swooping over the frozensurface of the lake toward the spot where the ice had broken. It wastaken up by more than a hundred. Small boys--kids, as Masters scoffinglydesignated them--gave voice to the call in high-pitched falsettos. Thoseof the senior school gave ear to the calls, and bore down upon the spotin silence. Canning--Masters' _bete noire_--threw away his cigarette andscuttled over the ice at a rate which was marvellous. But Clive wasthere first, and we speak the truth when we say that he wasflabbergasted. Talk about a fellow being trained to be ready to meet anyemergency! Clive was out of the running. He hadn't an idea. For at leasttwenty seconds he stared at Susanne's face, peeping out of the water, asif the sight robbed him of reason. And then his inventive brain set towork.

  "Hold on to the edge of the ice," he bellowed. "There's a ladder backover there. We'll send for it. Look out, I'm coming."

  Susanne nodded cheerfully. He had his arm round the waist of the ladywho had been immersed, and grinned at Clive.

  "Hurry up, then," he bellowed. "Don't mind myself, you know, but there'sthe lady."

  What was Trendall doing? Clive saw him grip in frenzied fashion at theice and slip off. He made another effort, and then stretched his armsover his head. Was he sinking? wondered Clive.

  "Look out," he yelled, slipping to his knees and crawling toward thedark and jagged-edged hole. "Look out for Trendall."

  Susanne cast his eye over his shoulder, hitched the elbow about the ladyon the edge of the ice and gripped Trendall. He pushed him against theedge of the ice, and then finding his own grip slipping, he let go hishold.

  "Hold tight there," he shouted.

  "Hold to the ice," bellowed Clive, sliding nearer and now flat on hisface. "Hold to the ice, Trendall. Get away from Susanne."

  But Trendall was not only exhausted; he was in a panic. Slipping fromthe ice again, he touched Susanne's shoulder, and then gripped it. Outshot the other hand and fastened about him. The three--Trendall,Susanne, and the lady--bobbed down beneath the water.

  "Let go! Let go, Trendall, you idiot!" shouted Clive, and then glancedover his shoulder. There was a ring of fellows round the gap in theice, kept at a respectful distance by two of the prefects. Behind themagain were some dozen of the seniors scudding away for the ladder forwhich Clive now shouted. Harvey was coming in Clive's wake, verycautiously, but not for fear of his own safety, while Rawlings stoodirresolute, and when he saw that he was attracting attention, slunk tothe rear of the gathering.

  "Go quietly there, Darrell," Harvey called. "The ice is awfully rottenand will let you in if you're rash. I'll be as near as possible, and assoon as the ladder comes I'll push it right out to you. Ah! That chapTrendall will drown the lot of them. Leave go there, Trendall!" heshouted peremptorily.

  But the fat and greasy senior who had toadied to Rawlings, and who hadtaken his part against Bert and Hugh and Clive, may be said at themoment to have been completely out of his element. Such a catastrophe asthis was just the thing to test a fellow's courage, and Trendall did notshine at all. Susanne, on the contrary, might, but for the awkward turnevents had now taken, have been merely enjoying a bath. But matters weretoo desperate for enjoyment. Trendall had firm hold of him, and thoughSusanne made a valiant effort, the hulking senior was dragging him downand the lady also. It was then that Clive acted. The crowd gatheredbehind first held their breath and then cheered him. In his enthusiasmMasters dashed forward, and throwing himself on his face wriggledtowards him; while Hugh skated over the ice reckless of theconsequences, till a stern command from Mr. Canning caused both to halt.For Clive had plunged forward.

  "Look out, Susanne!" he called. "I'm coming in to help. You hand thelady over to me and then tackle Trendall. The fellow's gone stark,staring mad."

  "'LOOK OUT, SUSANNE! I'M COMING IN TO HELP'"]

  Wriggling his way rapidly forward he was near the broken edge within afew seconds, when, as was to be expected, the ice broke with a soft,grating sound, letting him into the freezing water. And it was high timethat someone came to Susanne's help, for that young fellow had more tofight against than he had strength for. He struck savagely at Trendall,but without result. He was dragged under by the combined weight of thelady and the lout who had now seized him. Clive even noticed that hisface had gone a purply red colour, while when he came to the surfaceSusanne gasped for breath frantically, showing how immersion was tellingupon him.

  "Hand over the lady. Beat that cad off," bellowed Clive, striking outfor the trio. "Now Susanne, hand over."

  Fellows would have laughed at Clive at any other time, for it wasludicrous to see one of his small stature grasping the waist of a ladydecidedly bigger than he. But the event was too serious. Also there wasso much movement. For there were others bent on rescue. Harvey wasthere, and with one glance over his shoulder, and a caution to theprefects to keep the crowd back, he floundered across the ice and brokehis way into the dark fluid in which the four were now floating.

  "Push that ladder out quick," he shouted, as he sank into the water."Send young Seymour and Masters forward. They can both swim and arelight weights. Ah! Sturton, get together one or two of the seniorfellows, and if things get worse come in in a body."

  Then he left the edge of the ice and struck out. As for Sturton, ifHarvey had not already gone to the rescue, he would have done so mostcertainly. But as we have said before, he could be counted on always toback up his senior loyally. He swung round on the crowd of boysinstantly.

  "Newman, you'll do," he said, beckoning a stoutly built fellow to him."Collins Primus too. There's Jimmy Pritchard. Coming, eh?"

  "Rather. Ready for anything," was the quick answer as the young menselected skated forward.

  "Then Gaspard also. He's a swimmer, and you, Rawlings."

  All came to the front. All? No. Rawlings seemed to be deaf. Sturton hadrecognised him standing at the back of the crowd, and at the summonsRawlings had sidled away. In the distance, coming towards him at a fastpace, he espied a group of fellows bearing the ladder for which Clivehad shouted. In a second he seized upon the opportunity and turned away.But Sturton knew his man, and summoned him again in a voice there was nodenying.

  "Rawlings," he called. "I shouted for you. You're either deaf and didnot hear, or--coming?"

  There was no way out of it. The lordly youth who had made matters sodisagreeable both at home and at the school for Clive and his friendsturned with as good a grace as he could summon, and pushed his waythrough the crowd.

  "Did you call?" he asked lamely.

  "Did he call?" echoed one of the prefects satirically, a chum ofSturton's, one, too, who had taken Rawlings' measure long ago. "Everyman in the school heard your name."

  "But you," interjected Barrold, a puny Sixth Form fellow, who made upfor lack of inches by inordinate go and good spirits.

  "Perhaps he didn't though," broke in Bagshaw, the scribe of Ranleigh,the scholar who was most often to be seen arm in arm with Harvey.Everyone knew that Bagshaw was the prince of good fellows, alwaysanxious to save a row. They knew, too, that footer and cricket andswimming were forbidden to him. And yet Bagshaw pushed himself forward.

  "Here, Sturton," he said brusquely, "let me come. I'm always put in thebackground. Rawlings is a strong chap and can help to manage theladder."

  And thus the incident was passed over. In the heat and excitement of themoment, too, there was every opportunity for fellows to forget it. Few,indeed, had overheard the satirical words uttered by Barrold and theother prefect. Still fewer had noticed the flush which came to Rawlings'face to hide the pallor with which it had been covered a moment before.And none were witness of the mutterings he gave vent to as he turned tomeet the bearers of the ladder. But Sturton knew, the delicate Bagshawalso, that Rawlings had funked. Hugh Seymour learned of it, too, on themorrow.

  Meanwhile, all eyes were fixed on the figures struggling in the water.Clive had relieved Susanne of
his burden, and clung with his free handto the ice. As to the jovial Susanne, things were going hard with him.Had he been called upon some three minutes earlier to free himself ofthe fellow clinging like a limpet to him, he would doubtless havesucceeded, though not with ease, for the arms and grip of a drowning manare not quickly to be thrown off. But the young chap had been pulledbeneath the surface of the water so often that he was already exhausted.Trendall still clung firmly to him. Even Clive could make no impressionon those clawing hands, though he made an attempt to do so, hooking hiselbow on the ice as Susanne had done. He was feeling desperate indeed,in his helplessness; for Susanne was more often under the water thanabove it.

  "Supposing he gets under the ice! That chap's drowning him. Hi! Help!"he bellowed.

  And then Harvey came into view. The Captain of the School cleft the icedebris and the water with lusty strokes, and was soon close to Susanne.He tugged, too, at those encircling arms, but they defied him. Then,while the crowd watching held their breath, he lifted one arm, doubledhis fist, and brought it crash down on the head of Trendall. And thathad the desired effect. The grip slackened. The two drowning ladsseparated. A second or so later there was a loud splash near at hand,and Sturton plunged into the icy water.

  "Saw you'd more than you could manage, old chap," he said curtly toHarvey. "So came along to help. You fix that chap Trendall. I'll manageFeofe. Well done, Darrell! One South's looking up, eh? How's the lady?"

  "Insensible, I think. She's very heavy. But I can manage. Ah! I'mawfully glad you've got him."

  Sturton had gripped Susanne by then, and now had his head clear of thewater. The big head of the Frenchman, with its dripping, tousled mat ofhair, lay on his shoulder. The face was deadly pale, as pale as that ofthe lady he had been supporting, as white and blanched as that even ofRawlings as he heard Sturton's summons. His eyes were tightly closed.The cheeks seemed to have fallen in. A frightful feeling of despairassailed Clive Darrell. At that instant he seemed to be able for thefirst time to measure his friendship for Susanne.

  "Hooray for Ranleigh! Hold on to them, you chaps! Well done, Darrell!Three cheers for Harvey and Sturton!"

  The crowd went frantic and delirious with delight at the dash andsuccess of their comrades. Now that Harvey and Sturton had gone to help,not one but deemed the rescue certain, if not quite complete. The boysyelled themselves hoarse. Some danced on their skates with excitement.Mr. Canning alone seemed to retain his self-possession. Dodging fromside to side all this while, anxiously watching what was passing, he hadlong ago slipped off coat and waistcoat. Perhaps he was fifty years ofage. At any rate, his hair was white at the temples, and from the pointof view of the fellows at Ranleigh that stamped him as an old man. Buthe was active enough, though not so much so as Harvey. Still, he wasready himself to plunge to the rescue should more help be needed, andfor the moment he kept the boys back, and kept his head, which was,after all, a more important undertaking.

  "Ah! There's the ladder," he exclaimed in tones of relief, as Rawlingsand a number of others appeared. "Hand it to me. That's right, slide itflat over the surface. Now, keep that crowd well back. Well done, youngSeymour! Hullo, that you, Masters?"

  This latter individual gave his form master a curt nod. There was norudeness meant. Only Masters was intensely excited, intensely eager tosee his chum Clive in safety. He answered Mr. Canning just as he wouldhave answered any other fellow at the moment.

  "Gently does it. I'm too big a weight to go too far forward. Seymour,you're light enough. If the ice gives and lets you in I'll come afteryou. Now, on we go. As quick as we can."

  Hugh made up his mind how to act in a moment. He stepped on to the rungsof the ladder, lay flat down on it as if it were a sledge, and thencalled back to Masters and to Mr. Canning.

  "Push her along," he said, unwinding the long scarf he had wrapped roundhis neck. "The ice is cracking a little, but I think it'll bear.Farther. A little farther."

  Thrusting the ladder before them, the two behind soon had thesatisfaction of seeing Hugh within reach almost of Clive. Then there wasan ominous cracking. The surface of the ice sank beneath Hugh and wasswamped with water. A moment or two later it gave way, letting him intothe lake. Then a coil of rope swished across Masters' shoulder, tossedby a keeper who had suddenly come upon the scene.

  "Shunt the ladder round to the far side, sir," he called. "There's aspring over here, and that makes the ice rotten. Shunt it round, thentie the rope and go ahead. You'll have to be quick. Them chaps is more'nhalf frozen."

  Clive felt numbed through already. He could see Harvey's lips shivering,and his teeth chattering. Sturton, too, looked blue, while Hugh, who hadswum over to join him, looked pinched and desperately cold. Anxiouslythey watched as Masters tied the rope to the end of the ladder, andthen with Mr. Canning's help changed its position. Once more it wasthrust forward, this time with Masters flat upon the narrow end.

  "Heave!" shouted the keeper. Masters took the coil and sent it twirlingover the group in the water. Harvey caught it.

  "Here," he gasped, nodding to Clive. "Take it. Seymour'll help you withthe lady."

  They made a turn round her waist, and then as Masters drew upon the ropethey pushed and helped the body of the unconscious lady on to the ice. Aterrific cheer greeted this successful operation. Masters drew the ladytoward him, swiftly threw off the rope and tossed it back to hiscomrades, and then backed with his burden.

  "Well done! Well done, indeed!" cried Mr. Canning. "Here, Bagshaw andsome of you others, carry her away to safety. Ah, they're sending Feofenext."

  The ungainly form of the gallant Susanne was slowly hoisted on to theice and dragged towards the crowd. Bert was the first to make his way tothe front to receive him, and once with Bagshaw's help having carriedhim to the rear of the crowd, he set about reviving him in a mannerquite scientific. He rolled and squeezed Susanne till one might haveaccused him of positive roughness. He worked till his breath came ingasps, and until another of the fellows came in to assist him.

  Meanwhile, there remained in the water Trendall and four others, andsoon enough the former was sent to safety.

  "Now," said Harvey, when the rope came swishing over them again,"Darrell." But Clive showed no keenness.

  "Quick!" commanded Harvey. "Off you go."

  "Please," began Clive, for to argue with the great Harvey seemed asacrilege--"please, Harvey----"

  "Eh? What on earth's the matter with the kid?" demanded that latter."Look here, we're all of us jolly well frozen. I am, at any rate.Ranleigh don't want to have to record a death on this occasion. So outyou go."

  But again Clive objected. "Oh, I say, Harvey, please----" he began."I--you know----"

  Harvey scowled. The pleasant-faced captain of the school actuallyscowled. Had he been on terra firma and this Darrell dared to disobeyhis glance even, Harvey would have booted him.

  "Yes, I'd boot the little beggar," he said angrily, for he was stillfearful of what might happen. But Sturton knew his man to a T. He leanedover, all dripping as he was, and whispered to Harvey.

  "Leave the kid," he said. "He was first here, and he makes it a sort ofpoint of honour. Leave the kid, Harvey."

  Thereat the Captain grunted. He looked closely at Clive, and thenmotioned to Sturton.

  "You go, then," he said. "But you'll explain. It's the place of thecaptain of anything, whether ship or school, to go last out of danger.But, dash it, this kid's worth making an exception for. Heave up,Sturton. I'm keen to get out of this water."

  And that was how it happened that Clive left the hole in the ice last.The cheers which greeted the coming of each one of them were thunderous.They even brought a chilly blush to Clive's cheeks. But he was givenvery little time in which to listen.

  "Get off back to the school," commanded Sturton. "Here, you Hugh Seymourand Darrell, cut quick. Report to the matron when you're back. Run allthe way. I'll boot you if you don't. Do you hear? Skip, then."

  "And ask Mrs. Tyndal to have hot bottles and blankets re
ady," shoutedMr. Canning, who was bustling from Feofe to Trendall, and back to thestill unconscious lady. "We'll get some sort of conveyance and send themup. Now, you boys, strip off your skates and help to carry ourpatients."

  Thanks to the fact that the Headmaster of Ranleigh was an enlightenedindividual and believed in teaching his scholars other things thanmerely Greek, Latin, and Mathematics, there were numbers of the fellowswho, like Bert, had more than a smattering of the art of First-Aid.Still, the surface of a frozen lake is not the best of places on whichto revive semi-drowned individuals. And then, unconsciousness in allthree cases was due perhaps in great degree to cold and exposure. Therewere not wanting willing hands to carry Susanne, the lady, and Trendallto the big house adjacent to the lake, where hot baths administered bythe housekeeper and her attendants soon helped matters wonderfully. Butit was late in the evening before Mr. Canning set out with two blanketedfigures. By then Clive and Hugh had put in an appearance, glowing fromhead to foot after their sharp run up to the school. Sturton and Harveywere not long in following, and by tea time a hot bath had made the glowabout their bodies permanent. They descended to the Hall in a body, theschool being already assembled, and we record only the truth when we saythat their appearance was the signal for an outburst of enthusiasmentirely unprecedented. Never before had Ranleigh been so stirred. Neverbefore had there been an event quite so exciting. Ranleigh was known farand wide for the strength of its lungs, for the liberality andgenuineness of its applause. But now the school went mad. Defying fines,boys stood on the tables and cheered as Clive and Hugh and Sturton andHarvey went to their places. The fellows cheered themselves hoarse, andcalled for speeches. Then the sudden appearance of the Headmaster put adamper for the moment on their enthusiasm.

  Let us more fully describe the one who held in his hands theadministration of Ranleigh. Not tall, as we have said already, notperhaps very striking in appearance, Dr. Layman yet attracted and heldthe interest and sympathy of any body of people he cared to address.Clean-shaven, save for a pair of whiskers, grey-headed, he presented aface which was the essence of kindness. A pair of twinkling eyes werewont to look down upon the school, whether from his seat in Chapel, orfrom the dais in Hall. Austere some would have called him, those wholooked but once at his face. A jolly, rollicking fellow the boys knewhim to be, save when there was occasion for severity. And now he stoodof a sudden before them. Did he notice those who, contrary to allregulations, contrary, indeed, to all precedent, had mounted the tablesin their enthusiasm? If he did, he showed no sign of having done so,while they slunk back to a more decorous position.

  "Boys," he began, shutting his eyes as was his wont when addressing anaudience, "boys of Ranleigh, to-day I am a proud man."

  They made the old Hall ring with their cheers and shouts. Evans Tertiuseven, the smallest of all there, raised a shrill voice to swell thecheering of his comrades. And then silence fell again, a silence thatwas trying.

  "Boys of Ranleigh, I feel that I have reason to be proud of this schoolto-day. For some of your comrades have behaved with heroism, while allhave shown coolness in time of danger. I need mention no names. Thosewho have done best of all are well known to you. I congratulate them,and I congratulate the school on having them amongst us. That is all.Trendall and Feofe and the lady are now recovered, I am glad to say.Boys, there will be no preparation this evening."

  Yes, Ranleigh cheered again. The boys shouted themselves hoarse, evenwhen the Doctor had left them. And then, Nature asserting herself, theysat down to discuss the meal, for appetites were keen after the skating.We can believe, too, that the affair was discussed threadbare beforeevening was ended, while glances turned frequently towards Clive and theothers. Some, too, were turned in Rawlings' direction.

  "The fellow funked," said Barford deliberately.

  "No," corrected Bagshaw politely. "Look here, Barford, don't say that.I'm not too fond of Rawlings, I own. But if the school got to think athing like that he'd never have another decent minute. Let him have thebenefit of the doubt. The thing'll be a lesson to him."

  As for Masters, delighted with the ending of such an adventure, andforgetful for the moment of his ill luck when at dinner, he sat downafter tea with that wonderful pen of Clive's invention and began uponthe task which Mr. Canning had set him.

  "Beastly cad," he told himself, but with far less bitterness than onthat same afternoon. "But he bucked up awfully well to-day. You couldsee he was ready to go in and help the others. All the same, what's hewant to give me such an impot for? Beast, I call him."

  "Oh, hullo," called a voice at the doorway. "That you, Masters?"

  The owner of the name admitted the fact with reddened face. "Yes, sir,"he said lamely.

  "Writing?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Home?"

  "No, sir."

  "Or doing impots?"

  Mr. Canning grinned. It was like the cad, thought Masters for a moment.Then, catching something out of the usual in the master's smile, hepermitted himself to smile back in return.

  "Impots, sir," he said.

  "Ah! There's a time and a place for everything, eh, Masters?"

  What could the young fellow do but grin? Mr. Canning looked absolutelygenial. Now that Masters came to look at him more closely and lessseverely he was bound to admit that he wasn't a bad sort of fellow.

  "Though beastly fond of giving impots," he thought.

  "Doing it now, sir," he said.

  "But there's no prep.," suggested Mr. Canning.

  "Impots aren't prep., sir," came the answer.

  "No, but there's a time and a place for everything, and to-night's thetime for enjoyment. Leave that impot, boy. I'll take it as presented."

  He was gone in a moment, leaving Masters with a very red face indeed."Well, I'm jiggered!" that young hopeful exclaimed, when at length hehad recovered his balance. "I say, Seymour, Canning isn't a bad sort, ishe? Did rather well to-day, eh? Not half a bad fellow. Think I shallpatronise him in the future."

  The climax of all came when they were ranged in order for Chapel. Thegreat Harvey, smiling and serene as ever, passed down the lines ofboys, and happened to hit on Masters.

  "Hullo," he called. "I say, Masters, thanks."

  The words almost caused another paroxysm of cheering. Masters went thecolour of a beetroot.

  "And, by the way," added Harvey, "about that ink stain. Expect it was anaccident. I'll see the right people. Half a crown's too big a fine.Supposing we forget it?"