“You’re in for a nice sermon, my boy,” said Gilks, as the three walked home.
“I wish he hadn’t seen us,” said Wyndham, feeling uncomfortable.
“Why, you don’t suppose he’ll lick you?” said Silk, laughing.
“No, but he’ll be awfully vexed.”
“Vexed!” cried Gilks. “Poor fellow! How I’d like to comfort him! Take my advice and forget all about going to his study. He’ll not be sorry, I can tell you.”
“Oh, I must go,” said Wyndham. “I don’t want to offend him.”
“Kind of you,” said Silk, laughing. “Funny thing how considerate a fellow can be to another fellow who does his lessons for him.”
Wyndham blushed, but said nothing. He knew these two companions were not the sort of boys his brother would have cared to have him associate with, nor did he particularly like them himself. But when two senior boys take the trouble to patronise a junior and make fun of his “peculiarities,” as they called his scruples, it is hardly surprising that the youngster comes out a good way to meet his patrons.
Wyndham, by the way, was rather more than a youngster. He was a Limpet, and looked back on the days of fagging as a long-closed chapter of his history. Had he been a junior like Telson or Pilbury, it would have been less likely either that Game and Silk would take such trouble to cultivate his acquaintance, or that he would submit himself so easily to their patronage. As it was, he was his own master. Nobody had a right to demand his services, neither had he yet attained to the responsibilities of a monitor. He could please himself, and therefore yielded himself unquestioningly to the somewhat flattering attentions of the two seniors.
No, not quite unquestioningly. Short as was the time since his brother had left, it had been long enough for Riddell to let the boy see that he wished to be his friend. He had never told him so in words, but Wyndham could guess what all the kind interest which the new captain evinced in him meant. And it was the thought of this that kept alive the one or two scruples he still retained in joining himself to the society of Gilks and Silk.
And so he declined the invitation of these two friends to defy the captain’s summons.
“Well,” said Gilks, “if you must put your head into the lion’s mouth, you must, mustn’t he, Silk? But I say, as you are to get pulled up, I don’t see why you shouldn’t have all the fun you can for your money. What do you say to a game of skittles at Beamish’s?”
“What a nice boy you are!” said Silk, laughing; “the young ’un doesn’t know Beamish’s.”
“Not know Beamish’s! — at the Aquarium!” said Gilks.
“No. What is he?” inquired Wyndham.
“He’s the Aquarium!” said Gilks, laughing.
“And do they play skittles in the Aquarium?” asked the boy.
“Rather!” said Silk; “it amuses the fishes, you know.” Beamish’s was, as Gilks had said, another name for the Shellport Aquarium — a disreputable place of resort, whose only title to the name of Aquarium was that it had in it, in an obscure corner which nobody ever explored, a small tank, which might have contained fishes if there had been any put into it. As it was, the last thing any one went to Beamish’s for was to study fishes, the other attractions of the place — the skittles, bowls, and refreshment bars — being far more popular. These things in themselves, of course, were not enough to make Beamish’s a bad place. That character was supplied by the company that were mostly in the habit of frequenting it, of which it is enough to say it was the very reverse of select.
At this time of day, however, the place was almost empty, and when, after a good deal of chaff and persuasion, Wyndham was induced to take a little turn round the place, he was surprised to find it so quiet and unobjectionable. The boys had a short game at skittles and a short game at bowls, and bought a few buns and an ice at the refreshment stall, and then departed schoolwards.
They reached Willoughby in good time for call-over, no one except Riddell being aware of their pleasant expedition. Still Wyndham, when it was all over, did not feel altogether comfortable. Not that he thought what he had done was very bad, or that he had sinned in deceiving the masters and breaking the rules of the school. What troubled him was that he knew Riddell would be vexed.
He repaired to the captain’s study with his books as usual after evening chapel and found him busy over his work.
But as soon as the boy entered, Riddell pushed the papers away rather nervously.
“Well, Wyndham,” said he, “I’m glad you’ve come.”
Wyndham deposited his books and looked rather uncomfortable.
Riddell had rather hoped the boy would refer to the subject first, but he did not. Riddell therefore said, “I was sorry to see you down in Shellport this afternoon, Wyndham. You hadn’t a permit, had you?”
“No,” said Wyndham.
“It’s hardly the thing, is it?” said the captain, quietly, after a pause.
His voice, devoid of all anger or self-importance, made Wyndham still more uncomfortable.
“I’m awfully sorry,” said he. “I suppose I oughtn’t to have gone. I beg your pardon, Riddell.”
“Oh!” said Riddell, “don’t do that, please.”
“You know,” said Wyndham, “as those two took me, it didn’t seem to be much harm. We only went to see the steamer come in.”
“The thing is,” said Riddell, “it was against the rules.”
“But Gilks and Silk are both monitors, aren’t they?”
“They are,” said the captain, with a touch of bitterness in his tone.
There was another pause, this time a long one. Neither boy seemed inclined to return to the subject. Wyndham opened his books and made a pretence of beginning his work, and Riddell fidgeted with the papers before him. In the mind of the latter a hurried debate was going on.
“What had I better do? I might send him up to the doctor and perhaps get him expelled. It might be the best thing for him too, for if those two have got hold of him he’s sure to go wrong. I can’t do anything to keep him from them. And yet, I promised old Wynd — I must try; I might help to keep him straight. God help me!”
Is the reader astonished that the captain of a great public school should so far forget himself as to utter a secret prayer in his own study about such a matter as the correction of a young scapegrace? It was an unusual thing to do, certainly; and probably if Wyndham had known what was passing in the captain’s mind he would have thought more poorly of his brother’s friend than he did. But I am not quite sure, reader, whether Riddell was committing such an absurdity as some persons might think; or whether you or I, or any other fellow in a similar position, would be any the worse for forgetting ourselves in the same way. What do you think? It is worth thinking over, when you have time.
“God help me,” said Riddell to himself, and he felt his mind wonderfully cleared already as he said it.
Clearer, that is, as to what he ought to do, but still rather embarrassed as to how to do it. But he meant to try.
“I say, Wyndham,” he said, in his quiet way. “I want to ask your advice.”
“What about?” asked Wyndham, looking up in surprise. “About those fellows?”
“Not exactly. It’s more about myself,” said the captain.
“What about you?” asked Wyndham.
“Why, there’s a fellow in the school I’m awfully anxious to do some good to,” began Riddell.
“Rather a common failing of yours,” said Wyndham.
“Wanting to do it is more common than doing it,” said Riddell; “but I don’t know how to tackle this fellow, Wyndham.”
“Who is he? Do I know him?” asked the boy.
“I’m not sure that you know him particularly well,” said the captain. “He’s not a bad fellow; in fact he has a lot of good in him.”
“Is he a Limpet?” asked Wyndham.
“But,” continued Riddell, not noticing the question, “he’s got a horrid fault. He won’t stand up for himself, Wyndham.”
“Oh,” observed Wyndham, “there’s a lot of them like that — regular cowards they are.”
“Exactly, this fellow’s one of them. He’s always funking it.”
Wyndham laughed.
“I know who you mean — Tedbury, isn’t it?”
“No, that’s not his name,” said Riddell. “He’s a nicer sort of fellow than Tedbury. There are one or two fellows that are always down on him, too. They see he’s no pluck, and so they think they can do what they like with him.”
“Meekins gets a good deal mauled about by some of the others,” said Wyndham.
“This fellow gets a good deal more damaged than Meekins,” said the captain. “In fact he gets so mauled his friends will soon hardly be able to recognise him.”
Wyndham looked sharply at the speaker. Riddell was quite grave and serious, and proceeded quietly, “The worst of it is, this fellow’s quite well able to stick up for himself if he likes, and could easily hold his own. Only he’s lazy, or else he likes getting damaged.”
“Are you making all this up?” demanded Wyndham colouring.
Riddell took no notice of the inquiry, but continued rather more earnestly, “Now I’d like your advice, Wyndham, old fellow. I want to do this fellow a good turn. Which do you suppose would be the best turn to do him; to pitch into the fellows that are always doing him harm? or to try to persuade him to stick up for himself and not let them do just what they like with him, eh?”
Wyndham had seen it all before the question was ended, and hung down his head in silence.
Riddell did not disturb him, but waited quietly, and, if truth be told, anxiously, till he should reply.
Presently the boy looked up with a troubled face, and said, “I know I’m an awful fool, Riddell.”
“But you’re not obliged to be,” said the captain, cheerily.
“I’ll try not to be, I really will,” said Wyndham. “Only—”
“Only what?” asked Riddell, after a pause.
“Only somehow I never think of it at the time.”
“I know,” said Riddell, kindly.
“Why only this afternoon,” said Wyndham, drawn out by the sympathy of his companion, “I tried to object to going down to the town, and they made up some excuse, so that I would have seemed like a regular prig to hold out, and so I went. I’m awfully sorry now. I know I’m a coward, Riddell; I ought to have stuck out.”
“I think you ought,” said Riddell; “they would probably have laughed at you, and possibly tried to bully you a bit. But you can take care of yourself, I fancy, when it comes to that, eh?”
“I can about the bullying,” said Wyndham.
“And so,” said Riddell, “you really advise me to say to this fellow I was telling you about, to stand up for himself and not let himself be led about by any one?”
“Except you, Riddell,” said the boy.
“No,” said Riddell, “not even me. I can’t profess to tell you all you ought to do.”
“I should like to know who can, if you can’t?” said Wyndham.
“I think we both know,” said Riddell, gravely.
The conversation ended here. For an hour and a half after that each boy was busy over his work, and neither spoke a word. Their thoughts may not all have been in the books before them; in fact it may safely be said they were not. But they were thoughts that did not require words. Only when Wyndham rose to go, and wished his friend good-night, Riddell indirectly referred to the subject of their talk.
“By the way, Wyndham, Isaacs has given up the school librarianship; I suppose you know. How would you like to take it?”
“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 protégé 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 r
elieved. “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 you there, we’d be done for.”
Wyndham began to feel he had had a narrow escape of “doing” for his two patrons without knowing it.
“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.”
The Willoughby Captains Page 11
