“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 are the cock house, though the doctor won’t own it.”
“Well,” said Silk, “as I’ve not much faith in the Welchers’ boat — in fact, I’m not sure if they’ll be able to get up a crew at all — I feel delightfully impartial.”
“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 mi
nd 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.
He cox the schoolhouse boat in the regatta!
“My dear fellow,” said he to Fairbairn. “I’m not a very exalted personage in Willoughby as it is — but this would be the finishing stroke!”
“What do you mean — that it’s infra dig. to cox the boat?”
“Oh no!” said Riddell, “anything but that. But it might be infra dig. for the boat to be steered into the bank in the middle of the race.”
“Humbug, if that’s your only reason. Anyhow, old man, come down and try your hand in the four to-morrow morning.”
Riddell protested that the idea was absurd, and that he wouldn’t hear of it. But Fairbairn reasoned him down. He hadn’t steered them into the bank since the second morning — he hadn’t tried steering the four-oar, how did he know he couldn’t do it? Mr Parrett had advised the trial strongly, and so on.
“No,” said he, “the only question is your weight. You’d have to run off a bit of that, you know.”
“Oh,” said Riddell, “as to that, you can take as many pounds off me as you like; but—”
“None of your buts, old man,” said Fairbairn. “I say, if we only were to win, with you as cox, what a score it would be!”
“None of your ‘ifs,’ old man,” said Riddell, laughing. “But I’ll come to-morrow, if you are determined to have your way.”
“Of course I am,” said Fairbairn.
This conversation took place the evening that young Wyndham was taking tea with Silk and Gilks in the study of the former.
The intelligence that the new captain was to be taken out to steer the schoolhouse boat mysteriously got wind before the evening was over, and spread over the school like wildfire. Consequently, when Riddell arrived at the boat-house in the morning, he was surprised and horrified to find that nearly all Willoughby was awake and down at the river banks to see him.
It was embarrassing certainly, and when presently the crew got into their seats and a start was made, it became evident the new coxswain was anything but at home in his new position. The boat was a long time getting clear of the landing stage owing to his persistently mistaking in his flurry his right hand for his left, and then when it did get out into mid-stream the same reason prevented him from discovering that the reason why the boat would turn round instead of going straight was because he had his right cord pulled hard the whole time.
This spectacle, as may be imagined, afforded intense gratification to the curious onlookers, and many and hilarious were the shouts which fell on the ears of the unlucky captain.
“Oh, well coxed there!” one voice cried.
“Well steered in a circle!” shouted another.
“Mind you don’t knock the bank down,” yelled a third.
“Pull your right there!”
“Try him without the rudder. See if he don’t steer better that way.”
In the midst of these uncomplimentary shouts the boat slowly wended its erratic course up the river, amidst crowds of boys on either bank.
“Riddell, old man,” said Fairbairn, leaning forward from his place at stroke, “what’s the row?”
It only needed a friendly voice to recall the captain to himself. By an effort he forgot about the crowds and turned a deaf ear to the shouts, and straightening himself, and taking the lines steadily in his hands, looked up quietly at his friend. Richard was himself again.
“Now then!” cried Fairbairn to his men behind, “row all!” and he led them off with a long steady stroke.
For a little distance the boat travelled well. Riddell kept a good course, and the whole crew worked steadily. The scoffers on the bank were perplexed, and their jeers died away feebly. This was not a crew of muffs assuredly. Those first twenty or thirty yards were rowed in a style not very far short of the Parrett’s standard, and Parson himself, the best cox of Parrett’s house, could hardly have taken the boat down that reach in a better course.
There was something ominous in this. But, to the great relief of the unfriendly critics, this showy lead was not maintained. Before a hundred yards were completed something seemed to go wrong in the boat. It rolled heavily and wavered in its course. What was wrong?
The fault was certainly not in Fairbairn, who kept doggedly to work in perfectly even style. Nor, to all appearance, was it in Riddell. He was evidently puzzled by the sudden unsteadiness of the boat, but no one could lay it to his charge.
“Who’s that digging behind?” cried Fairbairn over his shoulder.
None of the other three owned the soft impeachment, and the boat seemed to right itself of its own accord.
Fairbairn, whose temper was never improved by perplexities, quickened his stroke, and gave his men a spell of hard work for a bit to punish them.
This seemed to have a good effect, and once again the onlookers were startled to see how steadily and fast the boat was travelling. But once again the mysterious disturbance interrupted their progress.
This time Fairbairn stopped short, and turning round demanded angrily who it was who was playing the fool, for an effect like this could only be put down to such a course. Porter, Coates, and Gilks all repudiated the suggestion, and once more, amid the ironical cheers of the onlookers, Fairbairn resumed his work and lashed viciously out with his oar.
This last protest of his seemed to have had the desired effect, for during the rest of the journey up to the Willows the boat travelled fairly well, though it was evident plenty of work was needed before the crew could be considered in proper racing trim. But no sooner had they turned and started for the home journey than once again the rolling suddenly became manifest. Fairbairn rowed on a stroke or two without apparently noticing it, then turning sharply round in the middle of a stroke he discovered the reason.
The blade of Gilks’s oar was about a foot under the surface, and he himself was lurching over his seat, with the handle of the oar up to about his chin.
“What on earth do you mean by it?” demanded Fairbairn, angrily.
“Mean by what?” asked Gilks.
“By playing the fool like that; that’s what I mean,” retorted Fairbairn.
“Who was playing the fool?” snarled Gilks. “How can I help catching a crab when he’s constantly turning the boat’s head in the middle of a stroke?”
“All rot!” said Fairbairn.
“All very well for you at stroke,” said Gilks, viciously. “You come and row bow and see if you don’t feel it. I’d like to know who could keep his oar straight with such steering.”
“If you’d row half as well as he steers,” said Fairbairn, “you’d row a precious sight better than you do! You’d better take care, Gilks.”
“Take care of what, you fool?” demanded Gilks, whose temper was now fairly gone.
“Ready all, you fellows!” cried Fairbairn, stretching forward.
This brief conversation had been heard only by those in the boat, but its purport had been gathered by those on the bank who had watched the angry looks and heard the angry voices of the speakers.
“Bravo! fight it out!” cried some one, and the news that there was a quarrel in the schoolhouse boat added greatly to the zest of the critics’ enjoyment.
Fairbairn’s caution — whether purposely, or because he could not help it — was lost upon the offending bow oar. The boat had scarcely started again when Gilks caught another crab, which for the moment nearly upset the crew. Fairbairn rowed on, with thunder in his face, regardless of the incident, and Riddell kept as straight a course as he could, despite the unsteadiness. In due time the unsatisfactory practice came to an end, and the crew stood together again on the steps of the boat-house.
Gilks seemed to exp
ect, and every one else expected, that Fairbairn would once more take the defaulter to task for his performance that morning, and Fairbairn did not disappoint him; though he dealt with the matter in a rather unexpected manner.
“I shall want the tub-pair after third school,” said he to the boatman. “Riddell, will you come and cox. Crossfield and me?”
“Who — Crossfield?” asked Coates.
“Yes; I shall try him for bow.”
“You mean to say,” exclaimed Gilks, taking the matter in, “you’re going to turn me out of the boat?”
“Certainly,” said Fairbairn, coolly.
“What for?” demanded Gilks, threateningly.
“Because,” replied Fairbairn, taking Riddell’s arm and walking slowly off—“because we can do better without you.”
Gilks stared at him a moment as though he meditated flying at him. If he did, he thought better of it, and turned away, muttering to himself that he would pay them all out, let them see if he did not.
Threats of this sort were not unheard-of things from Gilks, and no one was greatly disturbed by them. On the whole, Fairbairn’s decision was approved of by most of the schoolhouse partisans, particularly those who had watched the proceedings of the morning. A few thought Gilks might have been accorded a second chance, but the majority argued that if a fellow caught crabs like that in a practice he would probably do it in the race, and they did not want the risk of that.
As to his excuse about the steering, every one who knew anything about that knew it meant nothing, and Gilks did not repeat it.
As he reached the school Silk met him with angry looks.
“Is it true what I hear,” said he, “that you’re out of the boat?”
“Yes, it is,” growled Gilks.
“Why, you idiot! whatever have you done this for?”
“I did nothing. They wanted to get rid of me, and they did.”
“Yes, because you hadn’t the ordinary sense to keep up appearances till the race, and must begin to practise your tricks a month beforehand!” said Silk, greatly enraged, for him.
The Willoughby Captains Page 12
