The present discovery certainly revealed him in a new and startling light, and it was with a feeling somewhat akin to awe that the three boys who called themselves his friends set themselves to the task of inspecting his private — his very private diary.
The small volume dated from the beginning of the term, and the first entry the trio examined may be taken as a fair specimen of its general contents.
“‘May 20. The twentieth of May. I awake at 5:37, and got up at 5:43. My motive is to see the boats. It was a beautiful and fine morning. The early birds were singing gladly wore my flannels for running along with the boat.’”
Bosher was a little shaky occasionally in his punctuation, which will explain any apparent incoherence in the above and following sentences.
“‘I sang as I dressed except while washing The Minstrel Boy. Started out at 6:2—met Parson in the Big. Parson thinks too much of himself.’”
“Sharp chap, Bosher,” said King.
“I’ll pull his nose when I see him,” said Parson, who, however, did not appear very deeply affronted so far.
The reading continued.
“‘Parson ran on and left me alone. Now that I am alone let me muse on my past life and hope it will be better only the schoolhouse boat was out. I think they or our boat will win. Nice seeing them row Gilks catches a crab’” (this was previous to Gilks’s ejection from the boat). “‘Entered chapel at 1 to 8. King was there eating toffee.’”
“Hullo, King, you’re all right. When this diary’s published some day, you’ll figure all serene,” said Telson, laughing.
“Wait a bit,” said King, “your turn’s coming.”
“‘At breakfast sit opposite Telson. He eats vulgar. Thou shouldest not talk with thy mouth full, Telson, I prithee.’”
The readers fairly broke down at this point. Telson had to admit that his turn had come, and relieved himself by announcing that he would prithee his candid chronicler some day in a way which would astonish him.
“‘Meditations at breakfast,’ continued the diary. ‘The world is very big. I am small in the world. I will ambition twenty lines for gross conduct with Harrison — throwing bread I repent entirely. Parson wanted me to do his “Caesar” for him.’”
“Oh, what a whacker!” exclaimed Parson.
“‘I declined, owing to not knowing—’”
“I can believe that!” added Parson.
“‘Both detained for gross conduct not knowing verbs my home is far away. Let out at 12:28.’”
“What rot it is!” exclaimed Parson, looking up. “What a howling young ass he must be to put it all down!”
“I guess he didn’t expect we’d see it,” said Telson. “But, I say, we can’t read it all. Let’s see what he says about the boat-race.”
This was agreed to, and the eventful day was turned to.
“‘Rose at 7:3,’” began Telson, reading—“oh, we don’t want that. Let’s see, ‘Attended chapel at half a minute to eight. Half a minute more I had been too late. That had been bad alas had I been bad it had been bad for me next to Wyndham in chapel. Wyndham hath lost his knife he requested me had I seen it. I answered nay I had not. He said—’ Oh, what frightful bosh it is, I say!”
“So it is; but it would be a spree to see what he says about the race.”
“That’ll be pages on, at the rate he goes at,” said Telson, whipping over a few leaves. “Let’s see. ‘Gross conduct with King talking in class King meanly tells Parrett he is a beastly sneak.’”
“What does he say?” exclaimed King. “I told Parrett he was a beastly sneak? What crams the fellow tells! Fancy me saying that to Parrett! All I said was I wasn’t talking!”
“Why, I see it,” said Parson. “He’s left out a semi-colon or something; the ‘he’s a beastly sneak’ means you, old man. ‘King meanly tells Parrett. He (that is, King) is a beastly sneak.’ That makes it all right.”
“Does it?” cried the indignant King—“does it make it all right! I’ll make it all right for him, I can promise him. I never sneaked of him in my life!”
“Wire in, old man, and get to the race,” urged Parson impatiently.
“Here, this looks like it,” said Telson, reading. “‘Being the boat-race no afternoon school I am pleased. A vast mass on the towpath I being in flannels waited twenty-three minutes for the start. Meditating as I stood, how vast is the world.’ (Hullo! he had that before; that seems to be his usual meditation.) ‘How vast is the world. I am small in the world Parson is a conceited ass.’”
Parson turned very red in the face, of course, at this unexpected turn, which, however, his two companions greatly enjoyed.
“‘Parson is a conceited ass—’”
“I say, you needn’t go over it twice,” expostulated the injured youth.
“‘A conceited ass,’” continued Telson, his voice wavering with suppressed laughter. “‘He thinks he is a great man but he’s little in the world and fond of gross conduct. He and Telson are the conceitedest asses in Willoughby.’”
This double shot fairly broke down the gravity both of reader and audience, and it was some little time before the diary could proceed. The account of the race which followed was evidently not original. It appeared to be copied verbatim from an account of the last University Boat-race, with a few interpolations intended to adapt it to the present circumstances. It began thus:
“‘Punctually at half-past eight (“eight” scratched out and “three” substituted) Mr Searle (altered to Mr Parrett) gave the signal to go, and at the word the sixteen oars dashed simultaneously into the water. The Oxonians were the first to show a lead, and at the Creek (“Creek” scratched out and nothing substituted) were a foot to the good. The Craydle is a pleasing river with banks running up from the sea to slopes up the Concrete Wall this advantage was fully maintained (“maintained” altered to “lost”)—’”
“Oh, skip all that,” said Parson impatiently; “go on to the part about Willow Corner.”
“‘About a mile from home the Oxford stroke (“stroke” altered to “Bloomfield”) spurted, and the dark blue flag (“dark blue” altered to “schoolhouse”) once more shot ahead. Gross steering by Parson, who I allude to above, who steers his boat into the bank and breaks rudder-line. It is ascertained Fairbairn and others are suspected. After this a ding-dong race ensued to the finish where eventually the dark (altered to “light”) blues won by a foot (altered to “mile”) Parrett’s having given in owing to Parson who is alluded to above.’”
“Oh, I say, this is a drop too much,” exclaimed the wrathful Parson, rising. “I’ll pay him out for this, see if I don’t!”
“Don’t be an ass, Parson,” said Telson. “Sit down, can’t you? You’ve no business to look at his diary at all, you know, if it comes to that.”
Parson sat down with a wrathful countenance, and Telson proceeded.
“We shall not see a new race as I hear Riddell and Bloomfield declining. I spoke to Parson who completely repents. He suspects Telson who he ascertains is the one to do it. It is gross. How many things go wrong. Wyndham hath not found his knife he requested me had I seen it. I answered nay, not so. I have composed these verses which I will set down here as they may recall the past —
“‘My name is Norval (altered to “Bosher”), on the Grampian (altered to “Willoughby”) hills. My father (altered to “Doctor Patrick”) feeds his flocks (altered to “boys”)’.”
“Well,” said Telson, as he closed the thrilling narrative, and tossed it back to King, “I never thought Bosher was up to much, but I didn’t know he was a downright lunatic.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said King. “It’s not so bad. I tried to keep a diary once, but I could never find anything to say.”
“Well, I guess Bosher’s not hard-up in that line,” said Telson, laughing. “But, I say, we ought to give it to him back somehow.”
“I’ll give it to him back pretty hot!” exclaimed Parson. “I vote we burn the boshy thing.”
“All serene,” said King, pocketing the book. “Hallo! who’s this coming?”
As he spoke there was a sound of hurrying footsteps in the passage outside, and immediately afterwards the door opened and revealed none other than the sentimental author of Bosher’s diary himself.
Just at present, and luckily for him, he did not appear to be in a sentimental mood; his face was a little scared and mysterious-looking as he hurriedly stepped into the room and shut the door after him.
“Look out, I say!” he exclaimed, “the Welchers are coming!”
This magic announcement dispelled in a moment whatever resentment may have lurked in the minds of any of the three students on account of the diary. In the presence of a common danger like this, with the common enemy, so to speak, at the very door, they were all friends and brothers at once.
“Where? How do you know?” demanded the three.
“I was looking for a book I had lost,” said Bosher, “in the Big near our door, and I heard Cusack tell Pilbury to wait till he went and saw if the coast was clear. So they’ll be here directly.”
“Jolly lucky you heard them,” said Parson. “What shall we do, you fellows?”
There was a slight interval for reflection, and then Telson said, “Fancy the jug dodge is about the best. They won’t be up to it, eh?”
This proposal seemed to meet with general approval, and as time was precious Parson’s tin jug, full of water, was forthwith hoisted adroitly over the door, and delicately adjusted with nail and twine so that the opening of the door should be the signal for its tilting over and disgorging its contents on the head of the luckless intruder. It was such an old method of warfare that the conspirators really felt half ashamed to fall back upon it, only time was short and the enemy might come any moment. As an additional precaution, also, a piece of the twine was stretched across the doorway about three inches from the ground, with the considerate purpose of tripping up the expected visitors. And to complete the preparations, each of the besieged armed himself with an appropriate weapon wherewith to greet the intruders, and thus accoutred sat down and waited the event with serene minds.
The event was not long in coming. Before many minutes a stealthy footstep was heard outside, which it was easy to guess belonged to the spy of the attacking party. Parson motioned to the others to be silent, and seated himself at his table, with a book before him, in full view of the key-hole. The little manoeuvre evidently told, for the footsteps were heard stealthily hurrying away, and the watchers knew the main body would soon be here.
It seemed no time before the approaching sounds gladdened their expectant ears. The invaders were evidently walking in step and trying to imitate the heavy walk of some senior, so as to give no suspicion of their purpose.
The besieged smiled knowingly at one another, glanced up at the suspended jug, and then softly rising with their weapons at the ready, calmly awaited the assault.
Whoever knew a set of Parrett’s juniors caught napping? The Welchers would have to be a precious deal more cunning than this if they expected to score off them.
The footsteps advanced and reached the door. There was a brief pause, the handle turned, Parson gave the signal, and next moment — Mr Parrett entered the study!
As he opened the door the jug overhead, true to its mechanism, tilted forward and launched a deluge of water over the head and shoulders of the ill-starred master, just as he tripped forward over the string and fell prone into the apartment, while at the same instant, accompanied by a loud howl, one sponge, two slippers, and a knotted towel flew into his face and completed his demolition.
What Mr Parrett’s reflections may have been during the few seconds which immediately followed no one ever found out. But, whatever they were, it is safe to say they were as nothing compared with the horror and terror of the youthful malefactors as they looked on and saw what they had done.
With a cry almost piteous in its agony, they rushed towards him and lifted him, dripping and bruised as he was, to his feet, gazing at him with looks of speechless supplication, and feeling crushed with all the guilt of actual murderers.
It spoke volumes for Mr Parrett’s self-control that, instead of sitting and gaping foolishly at the scene of the disaster, or instead of suddenly hitting out right and left, as others would have done, he took out his handkerchief and proceeded quietly to dry his face while he collected his scattered thoughts.
At length he said, “Are these elaborate preparations usually kept up here?”
“Oh no, sir!” cried Parson, in tones of misery. “Indeed, sir, we never expected you. We expected—”
His speech was cut short by a fresh noise outside — this time the real enemy, who, little guessing what was going on within, halted a moment outside before commencing proceedings. Then, with a simultaneous war-whoop, they half-opened the door, and, without entering themselves, projected into the centre of the room — a bottle! Pilbury and Cusack had not studied natural science for nothing!
The strange projectile smashed to atoms as it fell, and at the same instant there arose a stench the like of which the nose of Willoughby had never known before.
Mr Parrett and the boys choked and made a dash for the door, but the enemy were hanging on to the handle in full force, and it was at least two minutes before the almost suffocated Parson could gasp, “Open the door! do you hear? Mr Parrett’s here; let him out.”
“Won’t wash, my boy!” cried a mocking voice—“won’t wash! Wait a bit, we’ve got another bottle for you when you’re quite ready!”
“Let me out, boys!” cried Mr Parrett as well as he could for choking and holding his nose.
“Tell you it won’t wash, my boy!” cried the insulting voice outside. “Try again! Have a little more sulphuretted hydrogen. Jolly stuff, isn’t it? Hold on, you fellows, while I chuck it in!”
The idea of another bottle was more than any one could endure.
Mr Parrett groaned and cleared his throat for another summons, but Parson was before him.
“I say,” cried he, in positively piteous tones, “we give in. I’ll apologise, anything — do you hear?”
“Eh — go down on your knees, then,” cried the enemy.
“I am,” said Parson.
“Is he? the rest of you? is he on his knees? both of them?”
“Yes, he is,” cried Bosher. “Honour bright.”
“Well then, say ‘I’m a beastly cad, and a funk, and a sneak, and I knuckle under and will never do it any more.’”
“I’m a beastly cad,” gasped Parson, choking with shame, anger, and sulphuretted hydrogen, “and a funk, and a sneak, and I knuckle under and will never do it any more.”
“Now all the rest of you say it!”
Telson, Bosher, and King obeyed, one after the other.
“Is that all of you?”
“Yes,” said Parson, terrified at the prospect of Mr Parrett having to go through the ordeal. “Telson, Bosher, King, and I are the only boys here.”
“All serene,” cried the jubilant voice outside, “open the door, you fellows!”
We draw a veil over the scene which followed!
Mr Parrett hurried out of the room the moment the door was open, merely turning to say, “Come to me all of you at seven to-night!”
And then with his handkerchief still over his mouth he hurried off.
Chapter Seventeen
A Surprise in Store
For a few minutes, as the disconcerted and terrified youngsters stood in a small band at Parson’s study-door and watched Mr Parrett slowly retreat down the passage, it seemed as if the final crisis in the career of every one present had arrived.
It would have been bad enough to be caught in the midst of a simple free fight and sent up to the doctor. But the case was far more terrible than that! For Mr Parrett had been fearfully and wonderfully mixed up in the whole affai
r. A few weeks ago the Parrett’s juniors had done their best to drown him; now they had done their best to drown him and break his neck and crack his skull all at one onslaught; and as if that wasn’t enough, the Welchers had stepped in at the same moment and added poison and suffocation to the other crimes of which the unlucky master was the victim.
Of course he would think it from the beginning to end one elaborate and fiendish plot against his life. It would not matter to him which boys committed one assault and which another. He had figured as the victim of all parties, and all parties, there could be no doubt, would now be included under one terrific sentence.
In the presence of this common doom, schoolhouse, Parretts, and Welchers for the first time that term showed symptoms of a passing brotherhood.
They stood rooted to the spot and speechless for at least two minutes after the ill-starred master had vanished, then Telson — usually the first to recover his wits — whistled drearily and low, “Whew! we will catch it!”
“Think we’ll be expelled?” said Cusack.
“Shouldn’t wonder,” said Parson, retreating slowly into his study, followed by the rest.
“He’ll send us up to the doctor, certain,” said King.
There was a long unpleasant pause, at the end of which Cusack said, “Well, it’s no use staying here. Come on, you fellows.”
“May as well stay,” suggested Parson. “We’d better all turn up together.”
So it was decided not to break up the party, and that evening the unwonted spectacle of Telson, Parretts, and Welchers, sitting amicably together in one study, might have been noted as one of the greatest wonders of that wonderful term.
Of course boys could not sit and talk of nothing. And of course it was hardly to be expected they would confine their conversation altogether to a review of their misdeeds. The talk gradually became general, and occasionally even animated.
The Willoughby Captains Page 18
