Chapter Fifteen.
A Rebellion Proposed—Plans for Carrying on the War—The Weakest Find that they have to Pay the Piper—Commencement of Hostilities—Barring out.
The Saturday arrived which the boys at Grangewood expected would prove so big with events. It was a fine warm day—a great contrast to the previous Saturday. There appeared not the slightest reason why they should be kept in. As the school hours drew to a close everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation. At last half-past twelve came, and Mr Yates ascended the head-master’s desk. “Boys,” he said, in his usual disagreeable tone, “you were informed last week that you were not to go out beyond the playground. The same prohibition at present exists.”
No sooner were the words uttered than a low groan was heard from one end of the schoolroom to the other. It rose higher and higher, till it burst into something which sounded very like a loud roar of anger.
“Mr Tugman, bring me up here some of the boys who are making that hideous noise,” shouted Mr Yates. “Monsieur Guillaume, can you catch some of them? Mr Moore, is no one making a noise near you?”
Whenever one of the masters approached, the boys were found crying, with their handkerchiefs to their eyes, and saying, “Oh dear! oh dear! we mustn’t go out; we mustn’t go out.”
This continued till the dinner-bell rang; for Mr Yates would not dismiss them, as was usual when school was over.
“You may go into dinner, boys,” he sang out at last, fancying that he had gained the day.
Dinner passed over very quietly, however, and everybody eat even more than usual. Slices of bread and meat were also stowed away in the pockets of those who were sitting at a distance from Mrs Pike or any of the masters. Their intention was to lay in all the provisions of which they could possibly possess themselves. Digby had had a hamper of cake and tongues, and cheese and preserves, for which he was indebted to representations made by John Pratt to Mrs Carter, backed up by a petition from Kate. So numberless were the contents, and so liberal was the supply, that it seemed almost inexhaustible—sufficient, Digby and some of his friends considered, to last the whole school for many days. They were not well practised in commissariat arrangements or they would not have thought so. Other fellows, as it happened, also had hampers, which usually arrived about the middle of the half, to prevent their spirits sinking till the return of the holidays. All these things were collected in the play-room, as were the slices of bread and meat carried off from the dining-room. When, however, Scarborough and some of the heads of the rebellion came to examine the amount of provisions collected, they pronounced them totally inadequate for the purpose of enabling them to hold out till their grievances were redressed.
“Where, too, is the liquor?—where is the water? Is there any tea and sugar?” they asked. “We should die of thirst.” They declared that it was absolutely necessary that a party should be told off to procure the necessary stores.
It then became a question as to who should go. Scarborough and Spiller had no fancy to run any risk for the good of others, nor indeed had Julian Langley, or Tommy Bray—indeed, a very sharp look-out was kept on all Master Tommy’s movements lest he should sneak off and betray them. Water, it was suggested, might easily be collected in the water-jugs and basins, which could be brought down from the rooms, and an order was accordingly issued that the water in all the rooms should be preserved with the greatest economy. Then fuel was to be found for the fire, and kettles to boil the water, and saucepans to boil potatoes and to make stews, for they had no wish to undergo more hardships than they could help. With regard to the important point of procuring provisions, it was proposed that lots should be drawn, and that ten fellows, on whom they fell, should go out at night to obtain the supplies. Tea and sugar was loudly demanded by some: ale and ginger-beer and soda-water by others.
Scarborough and two or three of his intimates, managed the drawing of the lots: they fell in a very extraordinary manner on Digby, Farnham, Ranger, Newland, and others of the most steady boys, at the same time the most spirited and likely to carry out what they might undertake.
“It is, indeed, fortunate we fellows are altogether, because we can thoroughly trust each other,” remarked Digby, unsuspicious of any trick.
If Farnham did think unfair play had been used, he did not deign to say so. He had consented to draw lots, and as some one would have had to go, he was ready to run the risk.
The next thing to be done was to collect the funds to purchase the stores. Scarborough, and some of the other big fellows, went round and insisted on all those they could coerce emptying their pockets and their purses and contributing the greater part of their wealth to the common store. If a fellow had five shillings, he was told he must give four; if he had half-a-crown, he had to give up two shillings. Digby, Ranger, and their party contributed nearly ten shillings each. When, however, inquiries were made as to what Scarborough and some of the other big fellows were going to give, it was found that he had only a few shillings in his purse; he said that he could only put in eighteen-pence. He wanted the rest to buy tobacco, he asserted; which was very likely. Spiller, turning his pockets inside out, with a melancholy countenance, said he positively had nothing; but that he was not ashamed, as he was certain the advantage his wits would afford his companions would make ample amends for his want of tin. He, however, was certain that his friend, Julian Langley, who had so lately come from home, and had, as yet, no opportunity of spending his money, would be flush of cash.
“A fine idea!” exclaimed Scarborough, very much in the voice with which a Knight Templar of old would have addressed an unfortunate Jew whom he had got into his power. “Come, Langley, my man, we look to you for supplying the sinews of war; what have you got?”
Julian hummed and hawed not a little, and hesitated; but had at last to confess that he had got four pounds.
“Then three pounds is the least sum you can hand out,” said Scarborough. “We might justly ask for ten shillings more, but we won’t for the present; we shall know to whom to apply if more is wanted.”
Julian had most reluctantly to draw forth the amount from his purse, and heartily he wished that no rebellion had been proposed. He had to learn the truth of a proverb, which runs to the effect, that in cases such as the present, “Whoever may dance, the weak and the silly ones have invariably to pay the piper.”
“But when are we to begin the rebellion? when are we to commence barring out?” asked Digby, rising from his seat. “I thought that we were to set to work at once.”
“We admire your zeal and courage, Heathcote,” answered Scarborough, who had invariably spoken very politely to him since the lesson he had received.
It need scarcely be said that the bully looked forward to taking his revenge before long, now that Bouverie had gone.
“Your zeal and courage is great,” he repeated; “but discretion is also of importance. We have now got a half-holiday, and to-morrow is Sunday, when we shall have to do no lessons; therefore it would be folly to shut ourselves up during that time. The provisions you are to procure cannot be got in before this evening. The difficulty will be to get them in; but we must manage it thus. You must all bring as much as you can; some must be packed in hampers, and directed to different fellows, as if it had come from home. Then the tradesmen must bring others in parcels; and I know a fellow who will, for a bribe, pretend to be a cake-man, and will bring in all sorts of things in his baskets.”
Digby’s feelings, as did those of his friends, revolted somewhat from these proposals; but they had entered into the undertaking, and they thought that they were in honour bound to go on with it.
“But how are we to get out without being seen?” he asked.
“I have thought about that, too,” answered Scarborough, with a condescending smile. “We are to get up a grand game of hoops—that makes as much noise and confusion as anything. Football would, be better, if it had been the right time of the year, and we had grass to play on; now it might create suspicion. We must get the side gate open, and as we all press about it, so as to stop up the view of it from the house, you fellows are to slip out. The rest is easy. Hudson, and Jones, and Ware will supply you with what we want; they will do anything for money. Here, we have made out lists of what we want, and the different ways in which the things are to be sent in. It must all be collected in this room by to-night; if things come to-morrow, suspicion may be created. You understand the plan, now, all of you? By the bye, all the play-boxes, which have locks and keys, must be emptied, to hold the things, and the keys must be delivered over to our committee, which, you will understand, is called ‘The Committee of Safety.’ It is for the good of the cause—we must sacrifice everything to that. No one exactly would like a dictator, nor do I; so I hope all will agree that we have acted for the best.”
Digby and Farnham were not quite satisfied when they found that this committee of safety consisted of Scarborough, Spiller, and three other fellows, called Ton, Smee, and Capron, their constant associates, and very nearly as great bullies and bad characters as Scarborough. However, it was too late to recede.
The foraging party were now provided with their lists, and with certain sums to pay for the things they were to get. Whether all the money collected was given to them they could not tell. Each of them, however, wisely made a note of what he received.
This was a piece of worldly wisdom my readers will do well to imitate through life—be exact in all money transactions. Put down at once all sums received and paid away, with the date of the transaction, and the name of the person to whom the sum was paid, or from whom received. It may give a little trouble at the time, but will save a great deal in the end.
The afternoon was drawing on; they all hurried out into the playground, having got hold of every hoop to be found. They divided into two parties, and were to charge each other from one end of the ground to the other. The foragers had hoops, also, but they were to throw down theirs, and to make their escape at the signal agreed on.
Digby’s heart beat eagerly. Go he would, but still he would very much rather not have gone. He did not fear punishment, but he had hitherto been looked upon as a well-behaved boy, and he did not wish to lose that character.
The two parties drew up on either end of the ground.
“Charge!” shouted Scarborough. Away they went, rattling along, till they met in the middle. Many hoops were overthrown; the rest of the boys, with loud shouts, rushed on to the end, wheeling their hoops round, to prepare for another charge. Those whose hoops had been knocked down assembled on one side, close to the side wicket. Spiller was there, and so were all the foraging party. Spiller had some tools in his hands. The next encounter of the hoops took place exactly in a line with that spot; and though several other boys went up to it, their numbers did not appear to have increased. All that afternoon the game of hoops went on, the boys knocking away with their sticks and shouting at the top of their voices; till poor Mr Sanford’s shattered nerves were almost completely unstrung.
At length, the voice of a man, who said he was a cake-man, was heard outside; and Spiller was dispatched, with a humble request to Mrs Pike for the key of the wicket, to allow him to enter.
In an incautious moment, influenced by the idea of saving her bread-and-butter, Mrs Pike gave up the key.
“I’ll soon be back with it, marm,” said Spiller, in his blandest tone.
The cake-man’s basket was soon emptied; but it appeared that he had another one outside, and the contents of that disappeared with equal rapidity. Pockets, and pocket-handkerchiefs, and hats, were quickly filled, and the things carried off to the play-room.
The foraging party had been out, and came in, one by one, in the rear of the cake-man, heavily laden. The expected hampers also arrived. They always put Mrs Pike in good humour. A very large one was for Scarborough, who never had had one before. They were eagerly pounced on by him and the boys, and carried off into the play-room.
The masters congratulated themselves altogether on the good behaviour of the boys.
Tommy Bray, however, managed to elude the vigilance of those watching him, and got off to Monsieur Guillaume’s room, to give him a hint of what was to occur; but the French master had gone to London for three days, and Tommy dared not tell anybody else, lest his name, as the informer, should afterwards transpire.
Night came, and all went to their rooms. Never, however, had Digby been more unhappy and less satisfied with himself since he came to the school. He prayed, but he felt that his prayers were hollow. He was not doing his duty to the best of his power. Probably several of his friends felt as he did, but they did not speak of their feelings to each other.
Sunday came; they went, as usual, to church. Poor Mr Sanford was too ill to go.
“And we are preparing a terrible annoyance for him to-morrow,” thought Digby.
They walked out afterwards, in close order, with Mr Yates at their head, and Mr Tugman, who brought up the rear, watching that no one wandered on either side. They went again to church in the afternoon; and all the rest of the time was occupied in talking over their plans for the following day. They were to get up an hour before anybody was likely to be astir in the house, and assemble, with their jugs and basins of water, in the play-room. All the schoolroom shutters were to be brought into the play-room, as well as all valuables from the desks. All the books were to be collected, either to serve as missiles, or to be burned; that was not quite settled. Meantime, a party were to pay a visit to the coal-cellar and wood-yard, and to bring in a supply of coals. There were other minor arrangements, into which it is not necessary to enter.
On Sunday night, the boys went quietly to bed. At half-past four, one or two awoke, and they roused up the rest. All were soon on foot.
“I say, Newland, don’t you feel as if you were going into a battle?” said Digby.
“Just as I can fancy soldiers feel,” answered Paul.
“One satisfaction is that the row must soon begin,” said Digby. “I hate having to wait for anything of the sort.”
They spoke in whispers. They were ordered to take their pillows with them to serve as shields, if necessary, and to carry their shoes in their pockets. They all very quickly slipped downstairs. Digby and Newland, with four others, found themselves again told off to go and fetch coals and wood, an expedition of some considerable hazard. However, they none of them flinched, though, as Digby said, he felt very much as if he was committing larceny. Each carried a pillowcase, into which it was intended to put the coals or the faggots. It was broad daylight. They had several passages to traverse, and what was worse, some of the servants’ rooms to pass near. On they went however.
“It must be done, though,” whispered Digby to Newland.
They were afraid of the noise they must make in turning the keys, withdrawing the bolts, and lifting the latches. The last door was reached; they succeeded in opening it, and into the coal-yard they hurried. It did not take them long to put as much coal into their pillow-cases as they could carry. Those directed to carry faggots had more bulky loads, but not so heavy. They forgot to close the door as they returned laden with their booty.
As they went along the passage they heard Susan calling to one of her fellow-servants, “Jane, Jane, don’t you hear footsteps?—is anybody ill?”
“I hope it isn’t robbers,” answered Jane. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
“Oh, nonsense; I’ll just throw on my gown and go and see.”
Now though these were not very terrible words, and uttered only by poor weak women, whom boys are apt to despise sometimes, they put the band of heroes in a great fright.
On they hurried as fast as their legs could carry them, expecting every moment to see Mr Tugman, or, perhaps, Mr Yates himself, descending the staircase to bar their progress.
“There is some one, surely,” cried Newland. “I’ll not run, though. I’ll go and face him, whoever he is.”
“I will go with you,” exclaimed Digby.
It was, however, only Ranger, who had come out to reconnoitre, and to help them along, if they required aid. They told him that the alarm was already given; so they all ran on as fast as they could into the play-room. They took the precaution of locking the schoolroom door, and of piling up some forms and desks against it, so that they might have time to make further arrangements while that was being forced.
The play-room presented a very unusual appearance when Digby looked round it. It was full of boys. The windows were barred, and shutters were nailed up against them. On one side of the fireplace was a heap of coals—on another, a pile of faggots and potatoes. Near, stood several hampers full of provisions; jugs and basins of water stood on the shelves, while all the boxes were full of eatables. Indeed, it was evident that it would take a long time to starve the garrison into submission. The first thing to be done was effectually to bar the door. There were bolts and locks, and they might easily be broken open. Spiller, who was the engineer in this department, had provided several bars, and these he screwed on across the door, so that it would have been necessary almost to knock the wall down before it could be opened.
Digby had naturally a military eye; he was looking round for weak points.
“They may be getting down the chimney,” he observed.
“Oh, then, we will light a fire and smoke them out,” answered Scarborough.
A fire was accordingly lighted.
“I suppose we are all here; but let us call the names over, and see if there are any skulkers,” said Scarborough.
This was done. Tommy Bray was the only boy missing.
“He’ll have the pleasure of breakfasting with Mrs Pike, the young jackanapes, betraying all our secrets, and having no lessons to do. He does not think of the woeful thrashing he will get.”
They heard the getting-up bell ring as usual, and then they waited, and waited, expecting some one to come to the door. No one came, however. The prayer bell rang as usual, and then, to their surprise, the breakfast-bell. This was very astonishing. They had good reason to know that it was the breakfast-bell for they were all getting very hungry. There was a general shout for breakfast. They soon had boiling water, and tea was made, and they had plenty of sugar; but some of the heroes complained much that they had no milk.
“Would you have wished to have had a cow shut up here, and hay to feed her?” asked Newland, laughing.
They all made a very hearty and luxurious breakfast—their early rising, and the excitement they had gone through, gave them appetites. Besides, they had an unusual variety of all sorts of nice things. Digby’s basket was in great requisition; and Scarborough, and Spiller, and others, who seemed to think everything common property, nearly half emptied it.
“At such times as these we don’t stand on ceremony, my good fellow. A little more of that capital marmalade, if you please,” said Scarborough.
Poor Digby could not very well refuse; at the same time he did not see exactly why the bully should eat up his marmalade.
The breakfast set was composed of very heterogeneous materials; plates were decidedly scarce, and the tea was drunk out of tin cups, and mugs, and pannikins, while some of the little fellows had to content themselves with ink-glasses, which gave rather a strong flavour to their beverage. The weather itself was warm, and the fire, and the number of boys shut up in the room, increased the heat till the closeness became very unpleasant; but they were afraid of opening the windows to let in any air, lest some of the masters might find their way in also at the same spot. The only light they had was through a few round holes in the upper part of the shutters.
When breakfast was over they began to consider what they should do. It was much too hot to play any active games. Some of the younger fellows proposed high-cockolorum and leap-frog; but they made so much dust and noise that it was not very pleasant work even to themselves, and the bigger fellows ordered them to desist, and sent a shower of books at their heads to enforce the order. Hop-scotch met with a like fate. A few tried marbles, but there was scarcely light for the purpose, and ring-taw was quickly abandoned. Others endeavoured to read amusing books to pass the time, but the dim light which fell on the page scarcely enabled them to distinguish the letters; and, besides, they found all sorts of tricks played them by those who had no literary turn, and always objected to see one of their companions take up a book. Digby persevered with the “Swiss Family Robinson,” which he had not had time to look into since the evening of his arrival, and finished it in spite of the heat and the variety of interruptions he underwent. When Digby read a work of fiction he read heartily, with his whole mind in the book, and nothing made him so savage as to be interrupted, and called back into the commonplace work of every-day life. A considerable number of fellows put their heads on their pillows in corners, and on benches, and went to sleep.
Thus the morning passed away. How different was all this calm and quiet to the fierce onslaught they had expected. They had fancied that the masters would have been thundering at the door with battering-rams, or climbing up at the windows and endeavouring to force their way in. Some even fancied that they would have appeared with muskets and pistols, and fired in upon them, or, if not, hurled stones in on their heads. Then they had vividly pictured the way in which they would have sheltered themselves with their pillows, and hurled back their lexicons, and grammars, and graduses, and delectuses, and other books, at the heads of their assailants. All that would have been very fine, and exciting, and delightful. Who would have cared for the bruises and blows they would have received? Black eyes, and even broken limbs, would have been things to have gloried in in so noble a cause. But this quiet, this perfect ignoring their very existence, was very trying. Not even a message sent to them; not a request to know what they wanted, or to beg them to return to their duty, was perplexing in the extreme. Some proposed that somebody should go out and reconnoitre; but who was to go was the question.
“It is very easy to say go,” observed Paul Newland; “but who is to go, I should like to know. Will Scarborough, then? He ought to go, I am sure. We have too long been made catspaws of in this matter; and though I do not counsel giving in, I say that some of the big fellows should bear the risk and expense, which they have hitherto not done.”
Paul had by some means or other discovered how things had been managed, and was resolved to speak out plainly. Scarborough looked daggers at him, and would have knocked him down had he dared.
“I have one thing to say,” observed the bully; “I recommend you fellows not to quarrel among yourselves. For my own part, I wish to be at peace with all the world, and am now going to have a pipe. Who will join me?”
Several big fellows, as well as Spiller and Julian Langley, said they would, and soon the room was filled with tobacco smoke, which not a little increased its unpleasantness.
“Swipes, swipes!” sung out Scarborough in a short time, and from some secret recess bottles of ale and porter were produced, the contents rapidly disappearing down their throats. Then they sang, and insisted on all the other fellows coming round and singing in turn. Probably they would have made them drink also, but that they wished to preserve the liquor for themselves.
There were about a dozen fellows thus occupied; at of them, with the exception of Julian Langley and Spiller, great, big, hulking lads, and the two latter were forward in vice and knowledge of what is bad in the world. Dinner-hour came. As if to mock them, the dinner-bell rang as usual. Those who were not smoking and drinking began to get very hungry, and to cry out for food. They only, however, got abuse from Scarborough, who had now thrown off all disguise, and assumed the dictatorship.
“If anybody touches anything, I’ll knock him down,” he cried out, with a fierce voice. “Wait till your elders think it is time to dine. Do you fancy that we are to keep, in the free and independent republic we have established, the vulgar dinner-hour of school-time. We’ll dine by and by, and you shall have some rashers of bacon to toast, and some herrings to fry, for your amusement.”
How indignant did Digby feel at hearing these words. Was it for this he had made such sacrifices?—lost a good name; acted a part he knew to be wrong? He had to learn that such is invariably the fate of those who join a bad cause, or consent to unite themselves with unprincipled men, even in a cause which they fancy may be right. Still he did not wish to raise a rebellion in the camp, and he determined to bear his hunger till it pleased the dictator to allow him to appease it.
The bells went on ringing with the greatest regularity. The dinner-hour had long passed; now the bell rang to summon them into school. Tea-time came. Digby and many other fellows had been asleep. They jumped up; they were ravenous. They insisted on having food.
Scarborough and his companions were still smoking and boozing on. He growled out, “That they must wait his pleasure.”
“I for one will not,” cried Digby, grown desperate. “Who wishes to join me? Here is my hamper. I have a right to the contents of that, at all events.”
The bully became furious at finding his authority thus openly defied; and rising from his seat, made an attempt to punish the bold rebel; but the beer he had imbibed had considerably affected his brain, and before he could reach him, down he came on his nose.
Julian, and Spiller, and the rest of his companions, seemed to think it a very good joke, and laughed heartily. But Digby and others turned him round, unloosed his neckerchief, and threw water in his face, in the hopes of reviving him.
“Oh, let him alone,” cried out Spiller. “He’ll come to by and by, never fear.”
Digby, however, did fear very much that he would not, for he was almost black in the face, and looked very horrid.
“If he should die now, how dreadful it would be,” observed Newland, in a low voice, full of awe.
They chafed his hands, and continued bathing his temples, keeping his head up, till he gave signs of returning animation.
“Oh, I think he will recover now,” exclaimed Digby, joyfully. So they put a pillow under his head, and watched him at a distance, till the natural colour came back to his face. Had he been alone with his half-tipsy friends, he would, too probably, have died. Not till he was apparently out of danger did the fuelling of hunger return; and then they got out their hampers and boxes, and set to work with right good will. They had plenty of good things; and it never occurred to them that it would be necessary to go upon short allowance, if they were to hold out for any length of time.
In the evening, there was a great cry out for tea; and though the beer-drinkers at first opposed the motion, the majority carried it. The fire was lighted, and large quantities of liquid—some said it was only sugar and water—was swallowed; and bread, and ham, and tongue, and jam and other preserves, were consumed.
Night came at last. Most of the fellows were very sleepy; but it was agreed that it would be necessary to keep guard, or they might be taken by surprise. Digby found that he was one of those selected, if not for a post of danger and honour, of great discomfort, and that he and three others were to sit up half the night to keep watch, while the rest slept. He suggested that they should be divided into proper watches; but a big fellow, Gray, who called himself Scarborough’s lieutenant, replied that he would not allow their arrangements to be interfered with.
“If I ever again join a rebellion at school, I shall deserve to be whipped for my folly, even more than for my disobedience,” thought Digby.
At last, all the fellows lay down. Digby and his companions walked about, and whistled, and sung, and tried to keep themselves awake by every means in their power; but it was very hard work. They had a few candles, but could only venture to burn one at a time; so that the light looked very dim and melancholy in the dense air of the large room.
“What donkeys we all are,” thought Digby, as he looked at the forms of his schoolfellows scattered about over the floor, many of them snoring, others talking in their sleep, and others tumbling about, evidently not enjoying quiet slumbers. At last, he lay down, but it was some time, even then, in consequence of the excitement he had undergone, and the hot and close atmosphere, ere he could go to sleep. Never, also, during his previous life, had his slumbers been so disturbed and uncomfortable.