The Willoughby Captains Part 13

"The boys who were late," said Riddell, stammering. "Let me see." Here he took up the paper and began to read it over: "`Co. Pri. Telson (S.H.).' Ah, yes! Telson. You were late, weren't you? Why were you late?"

A question like this was decidedly a novelty; Wyndham's formula had invariably been, "Telson, hold out your hand," and then if Telson had anything to remark he was at liberty to do so. But to be thus invited to make excuses was an unexpected treat which these cunning juniors were quite sharp enough to jump at.

"Oh, you know," began Telson, "it wasn't our fault. We were up-stream in the Ark, and meant to be back all right, only the schoolhouse boat overhauled us, and we had to race them a bit--didn't we, you fellows?"

"Rather," said Parson; "and a spanking race it was. We held up to them all down the Willow Reach, and were just collaring them for the finish up to Balsham Weir, when the beasts pulled in and funked it."

"And then, of course, we couldn't get back in time," said Lawkins. "We were jolly f.a.gged--weren't we, you fellows?--and it was all a plant of those schoolhouse cads."

"Fight you!" said Telson, menacingly.

"Oh, beg pardon, old man, didn't mean. They ran us up on purpose to make us late. You ask them. It was a beastly low trick!"

"And then coming back," continued Telson, "we ran down old Parrett in his skiff and spilt him, and we had to fish him out--didn't we, you chaps?--and that made us late. You ask Parrett; he's potted us for it, last night."

Riddell listened to all this in a bewildered way, not knowing what to make of it. If the boys' story was correct, there certainly might be some force in their excuse. It would hardly be fair to punish them if they were decoyed out of their way by some seniors. And then, of course, this story about Mr Parrett; they would never make up a story like that. And if it was true--well, he did not see how they could have done otherwise than stay and help him out of the water after capsizing him into it. It really seemed to him as if these boys did not deserve to be punished. True, Telson and Parson had been twice late this week, but that was not what they were reported for now. The question was, were they to be chastised for this third offence or not?

"What did Mr Parrett do to you?" he asked presently. "Oh," said Parson, gaily, fully taking in the situation so far, "he was down on us hot. He's stopped our going on the river a week, and then we've got to get a permit till the end of the term. Jolly hard lines it is, especially race term. I shan't be able to c.o.x. Parrett's boat at the regatta. No more will young Telson c.o.x the schoolhouse boat. You ask Parrett," said he, in tones of manly appeal.

"Then you mean Mr Parrett has already punished you?" asked Riddell.

"Rather," said Telson. "I'd sooner have had a licking any day than get stopped river-play. Wouldn't you, Parson?"

"I should think I would," said Parson.

"Well," said Riddell, dubiously, "of course if Mr Parrett has already punished you--"

"You ask him!" again said Parson. "You ask him if he's not stopped our river-play. Ah five of us! Mayn't go on at all for a week, and then we've got to get your permit. Isn't that what he said, you chaps?"

"Yes," chimed in the "chaps," in injured voices.

"Well, then," said Riddell, "as that is so, I think you can--that is, I wish just to tell you--you--it mustn't occur again."

"Oh, all right," said Parson, making for the door.

"And I hope," began Riddell--

But what it was he hoped, his youthful audience did not remain to hear.

They had vanished with amazing celerity, and the captain, as he walked pensively up to the door and shut it, could hear them marching jauntily down the pa.s.sage shouting and laughing over their morning's adventures.

A moment's reflection satisfied Riddell that he had been "done" by these unscrupulous youngsters. He had let them off on their own representations, and without taking due care to verify their story. And now it would go out to all Willoughby that the new captain was a fool, and that any one who liked could be late for call-over if only he had the ingenuity to concoct a plausible story when he was reported. A nice beginning this to his new reign! Riddell saw it all clearly now, when it was too late. Why ever had he not seen it as clearly at the time?

Was it too late? Riddell went to the door again and looked down the pa.s.sage. The young malefactors were out of sight, but their footsteps and voices were still audible. Hadn't he better summon them back? Had not he better, at any cost to his own pride, own that he had made a mistake, rather than let the discipline of Willoughby run down?

He took a few hurried steps in the direction of the voices, and was even making up his mind to run, when it suddenly occurred to him, "What if, after all, their story _had_ been true, and the calling of them back should be a greater mistake even than the letting of them off?"

This awkward doubt drove him back once more to his study, where, shutting the door, he flung himself into his chair in a state of abject despondency and shame.

Twenty times he determined to go to the doctor at once, and refuse for an hour longer to play the farce of being captain of Willoughby. And as often another spirit kept him back, and whispered to him that it was only the cowards who gave in at a single failure.

From these unpleasant reflections the summons to first school was a welcome diversion, and he gladly shook off the captain for an hour, and figured in his more congenial part of a scholar. But even here he was not allowed wholly to forget his new responsibilities. Nearly all those around him were fellow-monitors, who had just come smarting from the doctor's summary rejection of their pet.i.tion; and Riddell could tell by their angry looks and ill-tempered words that he, however innocent, was the object of their irritation. He had never been a favourite before, but it certainly was not pleasant to have to learn now by the most unmistakable signs that he was downrightly unpopular and disliked by those from whom he should have had his warmest backing up.

And yet, strange to say, it was this sense of his own unpopularity which more than anything nerved him to a resolution to stick to his post, and, come what would of it, do his best to discharge his new unwelcome tasks.

If only he could feel a little more sure of himself! But how was it likely he could feel sure of himself after his lamentable failure of the morning?

But the lamentable failure of the morning, as it happened, was nothing to other failures speedily to follow on this same unlucky day.

Scarcely was Riddell back in his study after first school, hoping for a little breathing s.p.a.ce in which to recover his fluttered spirits, when Gilks entered and said, "I say, there's a row going on in the Fourth.

You'd better stop it, or the doctor will be down on us."

And so saying he vanished, leaving the captain about as comfortable with this piece of intelligence as he would have been with a bombsh.e.l.l suddenly pitched into his study.

A row in the Fourth! the headquarters of the Limpets, each one of whom was a stronger man than he, and whom Wyndham himself had often been put to it to keep within bounds!

With an ominous s.h.i.+ver Riddell put on his cap and sallied out in the direction of the Fourth. A man about to throw himself over a precipice could hardly have looked less cheerful!

Gilks's report had certainly been well founded, for long before the captain reached his destination the roar of battle sounded up the pa.s.sage. It may have been an ordinary Limpet row, or it may have been a special diversion got up (with the connivance of one or two unfriendly monitors) for the special benefit of the new captain. Be that as it may, it was a disturbance calling for instant suppression, and the idea of Riddell going to suppress it was ridiculous even to himself.

He opened the door, unnoticed by the combatants within both on account of the noise and the dust. It was impossible to tell what the fight was about; the blood on both sides was evidently up, and the battle, it was clear, was anything but a mock one. Riddell stood there for some time a bewildered and unrecognised spectator. It would be useless for him to attempt to make himself heard above all the din, and worse than useless to attempt single-handed to interpose between the combatants. The only thing to do seemed to be to wait till the battle was over. But then, thought Riddell, what would be the use of interfering when it was all over? His duty was to stop it, and stop it he must!

With which resolve, and taking advantage of a momentary lull in the conflict, he advanced with a desperate effort towards a boy who appeared to be the leader of one of the two parties, and who was gesticulating and shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his followers. This champion did not notice the captain as he approached, and when he did, he mistook him for one of the enemy, and sprang at him like a young tiger, knocking him over just as the ranks once more closed, and the battle began again.

What might have been Riddell's fate it would be hard to say had not a loud shout of, "Man down there! Hold hard!" suddenly suspended hostilities.

Such a cry was never disregarded at Willoughby, even by the most desperate of combatants, and every one stood now impatiently where he was, waiting for the obstruction to regain his feet.

The spectacle which the new captain of Willoughby presented, as with scared face and dust-covered garment he rose slowly from the floor, was strange indeed. It was a second or two before any one recognised him, and then the boys seemed not to be sure whether it was not his ghost, so mysteriously had he appeared in their midst, coming from no one knew where.

As, however, the true state of affairs gradually dawned on them, a loud shout of laughter rose on every hand, and the quarrel was at once forgotten in the merriment occasioned by this wonderful apparition.

Riddell, pale and agitated, stood where he was as one in a dream, from which he was only aroused by voices shouting out amid the laughter, "Hullo! where did you come from? What's the row? Look at him!"

At the same time fellows crowded round him and offered to brush him down, accompanying their violent services with bursts of equally violent merriment.

With a hard effort Riddell shook himself free and stepped out of the crowd.

"Please let me go," he said. "I just came to say there was too much noise, and--"

But the laughter of the Limpets drowned the rest, in the midst of which he retired miserably to the door and escaped.

In the pa.s.sage outside he met Bloomfield, with Wibberly and Game, hurrying to the scene of the riot. They scarcely deigned to recognise him with anything more than a half-curious, half-contemptuous glance.

"Some one must stop this row!" said Bloomfield to his companions as they pa.s.sed. "The doctor will be down on us."

"You stop it, Bloomfield!" said Wibberly; "they'll shut up for _you_."

This was all the unfortunate Riddell heard, except that in a few moments the uproar from the Fourth Form room suddenly ceased, and was not renewed.

"What did Bloomfield do this morning when he came into your room?" asked Riddell that evening of Wyndham junior, a Limpet in whom, for his brother's sake, the new captain felt a special interest, and whom he invited as often as he liked to come and prepare his lessons with him.