Chapter Four.
School Experiences.
As two or three others, late like ourselves, were scrambling into their places when Tom and myself took our seats, while the old woman who had opened the door for me was bustling about the table, filling a series of tin mugs from the Chinese junk teapot and passing them along towards the outstretched hands that eagerly clutched at them en route downwards from the head of the board, I hoped that my damaged face would have escaped notice, but the master’s ferret-eyes singled me out apparently the instant I entered the room, for he pounced on me at once.
“Boy Leigh,” he shouted out in his deep rolling voice, “stand up!”
I obeyed the order, standing up between the table and the form on which I had been sitting; but Dr Hellyer said nothing further at the time, after seeing me come to the attitude of “attention,” as a drill sergeant would have termed it, and there I remained while the other pupils proceeded with their meal. You must remember that I was almost famishing, for I had had nothing to eat all day beyond the scanty breakfast which I was too much excited to eat before leaving my uncle’s house at Islington in the morning; while the long journey by rail combined with the effects of the fresh sea air had made me very hungry.
It may be imagined, therefore, with what wolfish eyes I watched the boys consuming the piles of bread-and-butter which the old woman distributed, after serving out the allotted allowance of tea in each pupil’s mug! Tom looked up at me sympathisingly every now and then between the bites he took out of the thick hunches on his plate; but the fact of my starving state did not appear to affect his appetite. This made me feel hurt at my chum’s indifference to my sufferings, envying the while every morsel he swallowed, and wondering when my suspense would cease; and, although I had not then heard of the tortures of the classic Tantalus, my feelings must have much resembled those of that mythical person during this ordeal.
At the expiration of, I suppose, about twenty minutes, within which interval every one of the busy crowd round the table had made short work of his portion, not leaving a crumb behind as far as I could notice, the master, pushing back his armchair, got on his feet, an example immediately followed by all the boys, and, all standing up, he said grace.
This ended, the boys, with much shuffling of feet on the bare boards composing the floor of the apartment, were about to rush out en masse, when Dr Hellyer arrested the movement.
“Stop!” he cried in stentorian tones, drowning the clatter of feet and whispering of voices; “the pupils will remain in for punishment!”
Every face was turned towards him, with astonishment, expectancy, and dread marked in each feature; and, with a gratified grin on his broad flabby countenance, he remained for a moment or two apparently gloating with gusto over the consternation he had created, amidst a stillness in which you could have heard a pin drop.
After holding all hearts for some time in suspense in this way, glaring round the room with an expression of diabolical amusement, such as a cat may sometimes assume when playing with a mouse before finally putting it out of its misery, Dr Hellyer spoke again. It was to the point.
“Boy Leigh,” he exclaimed, “come here.”
I advanced tremblingly to where he stood. Though I was pretty courageous naturally, his manner was so strange and uncanny that he fairly frightened me.
“What is the matter with your nose?” was his first query, as soon as I had come up close to him, pointing with his fat forefinger at the injured member, which I had vainly thought would have escaped the observation of his keen eye.
“I—I—I’ve hurt it, sir,” said I, in desperation.
“Boy Leigh, you are not truthful,” was his answer to this, shaking the fat forefinger warningly in my face, rather too near to be pleasant. “You’ve been fighting already, and that against my express injunctions; and now, you attempt to conceal the effects of your disobedience by telling a falsehood—worse and worse!”
“I—I really couldn’t help it; it wasn’t my fault, sir,” I pleaded.
“Ah, worse still! He who excuses, accuses himself,” said the stern Rhadamanthus. “Boy Slodgers, approach.”
My whilom opponent of the playground thereupon came up to where I was in front of the Doctor; when on closer inspection, I could see that he was in a fair way of having a splendid pair of black eyes from the blow I had given him. This was some satisfaction, and put a little more pluck into me as I faced my judge. I trembled no longer.
“Boy Slodgers, what’s the matter with your eyes?” asked Dr Hellyer of the fresh culprit, in the same searching way in which he had interrogated me.
“Please, sir, Leigh hit me, sir,” said the sneak, glibly, in a whining voice that was very different to the bullying tone he had adopted when catechising me before our “little unpleasantness” occurred.
“Ah—Leigh—ah—you see my boys tell the truth,” observed the Doctor parenthetically to me; and then, turning again to Slodgers, he said, inquiringly, “And, I suppose, you then—ah—returned his blow?”
“Oh no, please, sir,” replied he, confirming what Tom had told me of his inveracity; “I happened to have my hand up, sir; and, rushing at me in his fury, he ran against it, sir, that’s all. I wouldn’t have hurt him, sir, for the world, as I know your orders, sir, about fighting.”
“Good boy! I’m glad you pay attention to my wishes, Slodgers, and as the fight wasn’t of your seeking, I’ll let you off without an imposition, as I had at first intended. You can go back to your place, Slodgers. I see—ah—ha—too, you’ve been punished already, which is another reason for my leniency;” and so saying, the Doctor dismissed him.
Would you believe it? That cur went down the long room again with the most unblushing effrontery, after telling those flagrant falsehoods he had done about me! I really don’t know which I was the more angry with—at him, for cooking up that story about me, or with Dr Hellyer for believing him! The latter had not done with me yet, however.
“Now, my pugilistic young friend,” he said to me aloud, so that all the boys could hear, “you and I have a little account to settle together. Hold out your hand!”
Nerving myself up to the inevitable, I stretched out my right palm; and “whish”—with the sound that a flail makes when wielded by an experienced thresher—Dr Hellyer came down, right across my fingers, with a tingling blow from a broad flat ruler, which he must have kept concealed behind his back, as I had not seen it before. He seemed to throw all his strength into the stroke.
The pain made me jump, but I didn’t cry out or make the slightest exclamation. I would have bitten my lips through first; for all the boys were looking on, with the expectation probably of hearing me yell out—especially that sneak Slodgers, who, I made up my mind, should not be gratified by any exhibition of yielding on my part.
“The other now!” cried the Doctor; and, “whack” came a second dose of the flat ruler on my left digits.
“The right again!” sang out the big brute, I obeying without wincing after the first stroke; and so he went on, flaying my poor hands until he had given me six “pandies,” as the boys called the infliction, on each, by which time both of my palms were as raw as a piece of ordinary beefsteak, and, I’m certain, far more tender.
“That will do for a first lesson—ah—Martin Leigh,” said my tormentor, when he had concluded this performance. “You can go now, but, mark me, the next time I hear of your fighting you shall have a double portion! Boys, you’re dismissed.”
With these parting words, Dr Hellyer waved me off; on which I followed slowly after the rest, who had at once rushed off from the room.
Being the last, when I got outside the door, all the boys had disappeared, with the exception of Tom, whom I found waiting for me at the head of the stairs.
I felt inclined to be indignant with him at first for not speaking up for me and contradicting the false statement of Slodgers; but Tom soon persuaded me that such a course on his part would probably only have increased my punishment and brought him in for it as well, without doing good to either of us, or harming the cur who had told such lies about me.
“Dr Hellyer,” said Tom, “always takes everything Slodgers says for gospel, and it’s not a bit of use going against him when brought to book. The only way for you to pay him out, Martin, will be to learn to use your fists properly, and give him a good thrashing some day when we are out of doors. You will then only get some more ‘pandies’ like what you had just now, and I think the gratification of punching his head ought to be worth that.”
“Right you are, Tom,” I replied. “I’m game for it: I will never feel happy till I make him acknowledge the lie he told to-day against me.”
“Bravo, that’s hearty,” said Tom. “You’re a big fellow for your age, and with a little training will soon be a match for that cur, as he’s a coward at heart. But, look here, Martin—see, I didn’t forget you, as I believe you thought I did at tea-time. I saved this for you, as I could see you were hungry.”
The good-hearted chap had managed to stow away a thick slice of bread-and-butter in his trousers pocket, and this he now brought out and handed to me. It was dirty and greasy, and had little bits of paper sticking to it, from the mixed assortment of articles amidst which it had been crammed; but, as it was the first morsel of food I had given me after my long fast, I received it from my chum with the utmost gratitude, putting my teeth through it without delay. I really think that it was the most appetising thing I had ever tasted in my life, up to the present, and I longed for more when I had finished it up, although, alas, no more was then to be had!
Little as it was, however, this slight apology for a meal made me feel better and stronger; so, I told Tom, after I had swallowed the bread-and-butter, that I was fit for anything, which pleased him very much.
“You’re just the sort of fellow I thought you were,” said he, clapping me on the back. “I have been looking out for a chum like you ever since I came here, and we’ll have fine times together, my boy! But, come along now, and put your hands under the pump—the cold water will pain you at first, but it will do a world of good, and to-morrow the hands’ll feel all right.”
So saying, Tom, catching hold of my arm, lugged me off down-stairs, and through a lot of mysterious passages and dark ways, to the wash-house at the back of the kitchen again. Arrived here, he pumped away for a good half-hour on my hands, in spite of all my entreaties to the contrary; but, at the end of that time, although they were almost benumbed, the pain from the Doctor’s pandies had passed away, and the palms, which had been previously almost rigid, had regained their flexibility.
“There, that’s enough for the present,” said Tom, quite out of breath with his exertions at the pump-handle, kindly taking out his pocket-handkerchief and gently dabbing my hands with it until they were dry. “I think they’ll do now, and won’t pain you to-morrow; but you must try, old fellow, and avoid getting another taste of the Doctor’s ruler till they’re a bit more recovered.”
At that moment the gong struck up again its ringing, buzzing, drumming sound, and I pricked up my ears, in the vain hope of having a meal at last.
“Is that for supper?” I asked him, recollecting well what it had rung for before.
“Oh no,” answered Tom, “we never get anything else after tea here of an evening. That’s the call to go to sleep: ‘Early to bed, early to rise,’ you know, Martin! I didn’t think it was so late; look sharp and follow me, and I’ll show you the way to the dormitories. There are two of them, and I don’t know which room you’ll be sent to—I hope mine, but we’ll soon see, as ‘Smiley’ arranges all that.”
Passing back through the same passages again by which we had descended from the eating-room—or “refectory,” as Dr Hellyer styled that bare apartment—and up a second flight of stairs beyond, Tom leading the way, we finally reached a long chamber which must have stretched along the whole front of the house, immediately above the room devoted to meals.
Some twenty beds were ranged down the length of this dormitory, in the same way as is customary in a hospital ward, some of them already occupied by boys who had quietly undressed, while the rest of the fellows were hurriedly pulling off their clothes and preparing their toilets for the night.
At the door of the dormitory stood a tall, cadaverous-looking man of some fifty years or thereabouts whom I had not before seen. To him Tom now briefly introduced me in the most laconic fashion.
“New boy, Mr Smallpage,” he said.
“Oh, new boy—Leigh, I suppose, eh?” replied this gentleman in an absent sort of way—“Is he in your charge, Larkyns?”
“Well, sir,” said Tom, rather at a loss to answer this question, not wishing to tell an untruth and yet desirous for certain reasons that I should be associated with him, “I’ve made friends with him, that’s all.”
“Ah, then, he can have that vacant bed next yours,” decided Mr “Smiley,” kindly, seeing Tom’s drift.
“Thank you, sir,” said my chum in a gleeful tone at having his wish gratified. “Come along with me, Martin, and I will show you your place. Is it not jolly?” he whispered to me as we proceeded up the room along the centre space left vacant between the two rows of beds lining the walls on either side, “why, it’s just the very thing we wanted!”
Tom’s bed and mine were close to one of the windows in the front of the house, which fact delighted me very much, as I thought I should be able to see the sea as soon as I woke in the morning.
My chum, however, threw a damper on this reflection by suggesting that, when the first gong sounded our reveille at six o’clock AM, we should have such sharp work before us to dress and get down to the refectory in the quarter of an hour allowed us for the operation, that unless I wished to lose my breakfast—a dreadful contingency considering the then empty state of my body—I should have precious little time for star-gazing!
Tom’s mention of “shovelling on my clothes,” as he delicately termed the act of dressing, immediately reminded me of my box, which I had quite forgotten all about ever since my leaving it behind me in the little room out of the hall on the termination of my first interview with Dr Hellyer.
“I wonder where it is?” I asked Tom.
“Oh, it has been brought up-stairs all right. The old woman would see to that,” he said.
“Then where is it?” I inquired. “I want my night-shirt now.”
“It is probably in the locker room,” replied my chum, “shall I ask Smiley to let us go and see?”
“Do, if you don’t mind,” said I; and Tom, whisking down the room in a somewhat negligé costume, readily obtained the requisite “permit of search.” He then beckoned me to follow him towards a second door communicating from the dormitory with a smaller apartment beyond, whose sides, I observed on entering within, were buttressed from floor to ceiling with a series of diminutive square wooden chests, ranged along the walls on top of one another, like the deed boxes noticeable in the private office of a solicitor in large practice, and all numbered in similar fashion, seriatim, with large black figures on their front faces.
“Every boy has one of these lockers to stow his traps in,” explained Tom, “and Smiley said you could have 31, next to mine, which is 30—just in the same way, old fellow, as our beds are alongside—good of him, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I replied, “he seems a kind chap.”
“He is,” said Tom; “but, come, Martin, if your box is here you’d better bundle in your things at once, and leave it out on the landing for the old woman to take down again to the cellar, where all our trunks and such-like are kept.”
My box was soon found; and my scanty wardrobe being quickly removed to the numbered receptacle allotted to me, Tom and I returned to the dormitory, where, as I had taken care to bring back with me the garment I required for present exigencies, we both soon made an end of our toilets and jumped into our respective beds.
I had expected that as soon as all the boys were under the sheets, the mathematical master would have left the room; but, no, “Smiley,” much to my surprise, proceeded to undress, and occupy a large bed at the end of the dormitory close to the entrance.
Under these circumstances, therefore, instead of the row that would otherwise have gone on, in the absence of any presiding genius of order, the room was soon hushed in quiet repose; and, the last thing I can recollect hearing, ere dropping to sleep, after wishing Tom a sotto voce “good night,” was the sound of the many-voiced sea as the waves whispered to each other on the beach—the gentle lullaby noise it made, to the fancy of my cockney ears, exactly resembling that created by the distant traffic of the London streets in the early hours of the morning to those living within the city radius.