Chapter Sixteen.
A Siege without Besiegers—heroism of Garrison—General Pike and the Army of Observation—Garrison Yields at Discretion—A New Schoolmaster, and great improvements in the school.
The morning at last came. Digby sat up and rubbed his eyes. At first he thought that he was in the smugglers’ cave; then on board the lugger, hurrying to her destruction; then in the sea-worn cavern into which he had been at last cast. At last he remembered where he was. All he had gone through on the above-mentioned occasion was trying enough, but he had not himself to blame. His present rather ridiculous discomfort he had been at least instrumental in bringing on himself. He tried to go to sleep again, for he had no pleasant thoughts to keep him awake; so he dozed on till the the usual loud-sounding bell rang to call the boys up. That awoke him effectually, though some of the boys seemed to have a satisfaction in continuing to lie down in spite of the bell. Then the first school-bell rang, and the breakfast-bell, and the second school-bell—indeed, the day passed exactly as the previous one had done. No one came near them that they were aware of, nor were they able to hold the slightest communication with anybody without. Scarborough drank more beer than he had done the day before, and was more tyrannical than ever. He and his friends smoked and drank all day, and, they said, made themselves perfectly happy; but it was dreadfully dull work for all the rest. Oh, how they wished that matters could be brought to a satisfactory conclusion. They were not allowed to have dinner till late, as before. They managed to do pretty well at it, but at tea-time bread began to run short. They had laid in a smaller supply of that than of anything else. The night passed in thorough discomfort, but with no interruption from without. The next morning they were obliged to breakfast on biscuits and sweetcakes; they had potatoes, but they could not manage to cook enough of them properly; and at dinner they were very badly off for some plain article of food to eat with their pies and ham, and similar rich dishes. At tea they were still worse off; for though jam, and honey, and cheese, and tongue are all very good things with bread, they do not make a good mixture without some of the staff of life.
Still the more heroic declared that it would be a disgrace to yield for such a trifle; indeed, it was difficult to say to whom they should yield; for unless they had opened the door and sneaked out, there was no other course for them to pursue than to stay where they were. So they had another night to spend on the bare boards, without changing their clothes, or washing their hands and faces. They had to breakfast on ham, jam and honey, or bits of pie. Fortunate were those who found some scraps of plum-cake. Even Scarborough’s tobacco was running short, and the beer was nearly expended. This would have been fortunate in most respects; but the prospect of having to go without it made him more savage than ever.
“Never fear, old fellow,” said Julian, touching him on the shoulder; “I am up to a thing or two—look here!”
He showed him a couple of bottles of gin.
“There’s comfort for you.”
The wretched fellow’s eyes glistened. What was the comfort offered? To steep his senses in forgetfulness; to make himself like a brute. He did not think of that, though. The gin bottles were soon concealed, and Scarborough was again in better spirits. There was not much dispute about the time of dinner that day, as there was very little to eat. Those who could get them, had to chew the hard tops, and the roots of tongues, and the knuckles of hams, and the rind of cheese, and to finish off with honey and marmalade; but even those who generally liked sweet things the best had very little fancy for them now. The water, too, had become very mawkish and vapid, and there was scarcely any tea left; what remained was used up that evening. Still no one proposed giving in. The bigger fellows dared not; the little ones did not know what to do; and the more daring still lived on in hopes of an assault being made on their stronghold, when they might have some excuse for yielding with honour, but to be starved into submission was most derogatory to their dignity. That night was the most unpleasant of any. Many of the fellows were very sick; bad air, no exercise, and a mixture of salt ham and sweet jam tended to disturb the economy of their insides. Several of the little fellows began to cry bitterly, and got books sent at their heads in consequence by Scarborough, whenever he woke up and heard them. The next morning the last drop of water in the jugs and basins was expended, the potatoes were all baked or boiled, and every scrap of ham, or tongue, or cheeseparing was consumed. Hunger not only stared them in the face, but was actually attacking their stomachs. Few before knew what very uncomfortable sensations it caused—how it could pinch; how sick and how low-spirited it could make them feel. Even Digby, Ranger, and Newland began to think that means must be taken to put an end to that state of things. Had they known who was the general commanding the forces opposed to them, they would not have held out so long. Not poor Mr Sanford; he was very ill, and knew nothing about the matter. Not Mr Yates; he had left the school, so had Monsieur Guillaume. The general was no other than Mrs Pike, and her whole army was represented by Susan, who was furnished with the garden steps, by means of which she was enabled to inspect at her convenience the proceedings of the heroic garrison. General Pike’s spy and informant of the resources of the enemy was little Tommy Bray, who, as his reward, had as many muffins and cakes for breakfast and tea as he could eat, and a large supply of pudding for dinner. Through him General Pike knew the exact amount of the money collected and the provisions purchased with it; and with this data to go on, she sat down and calculated the exact time these provisions were likely to last. She thus knew perfectly well that by Thursday morning the garrison must yield at discretion, and she had arranged her plans accordingly. Susan, on returning from her daily reconnaissance, assured her that the garrison were not suffering from fever, or from any dangerous ailment, but only that they generally looked very stupid and dull, and that she was very certain that by the afternoon they would be too happy to yield to any terms she might choose to dictate.
“They have no fire, marm; and they don’t seem to have a morsel of anything to eat for breakfast,” said Susan.
Mrs Pike was not very hard-hearted, but she knew that a little starvation would do none of them much harm.
“We will wait till about an hour before dinner-time, and then we will go and see what they have got to say for themselves,” she observed, rubbing her nose, which was a habit of hers when she was meditating on any subject. “By that hour Dr Graham will be here, and it is as well that he should receive the young gentlemen’s submission.”
Long and serious consultations were now held within the garrison. With the exception of Scarborough and his immediate companions, or his council, as he called them, all were unanimous that if terms were offered they must yield to them. Paul Newland, especially, was very strenuous on this point. “We have been great donkeys, of that there cannot be the slightest doubt; but we shall be still greater if we keep ourselves shut up here a moment longer than we can help,” he observed. “We have spent our money, we have made ourselves thoroughly uncomfortable, we have lost many a jolly good game of play, and we have obtained for ourselves a no very enviable character in the eyes of our masters, while we shall all of us go home with black marks against our names.”
“But we have been fighting for a great principle. We must remember that our honours were concerned,” answered Digby.
“Fighting! We haven’t fought at all,” returned Newland. “A great principle! I have been thinking over that point also. Our great principle should be obedience; that is one of the things we were sent to school to learn. I forget when I found it out, but I now clearly remember it, and in adhering to that, depend on it our honours were involved much more than in insisting on going out when, for some very good reason probably, Mr Sanford thought fit to keep us in. All I can say is, that I wish he was well, and could have us up and flog us all round, and so settle the matter off-hand. I certainly don’t like the thoughts of yielding to old Yates.”
A few acknowledged the justice of these opinions. It was not to be expected that many should do so. The last sentiment was reciprocated by all.
“The sooner, then, we make preparations for opening the door the better,” observed Farnham.
They possessed themselves of Spiller’s tools. That worthy, with Julian Langley, Scarborough, and a few others, were sitting up in a corner, puffing away slowly at their clay pipes, and sipping away at something which they did not wish the rest to see. They were too stupified to observe what was being done. The bars across the doors were removed; their strength had never even been tried. Then Farnham took down a shutter, and in desperation threw open the windows to let some fresh air in. Oh, how delicious and sweet it was, compared to the poisonous atmosphere they had been so long breathing.
“I, for one, vote that we all march out in order, and walk up and down in the playground till some one comes to know what we want,” exclaimed Digby, as if a bright idea had struck him. “Or, I will tell you what, I don’t mind going with a flag of truce straight up to Mr Sanford, to tell him our grievances, and to ask what terms he will give us.”
“Capital! grand! spirited!” shouted most of the fellows—at least they moaned out, for they were not in a condition to shout.
Not a moment was allowed him to recede from his offer. The largest and the least dirty white pocket-handkerchief they could find was immediately fastened on to the end of a broomstick. There was a little water remaining, in which Digby’s hands and face were washed. His hair was combed with the only pocket comb to be found in the army, and his clothes were brushed with the broom above spoken of, and his shirt-collar smoothed down as much as was practicable. Independently of his spirit and discretion, he certainly looked fatter and less pale than any of the rest, and was therefore the fittest envoy that could have been selected to give the enemy a favourable opinion of the garrison. They were, of course, not aware that Susan knew perfectly well all about them.
Digby was all ready, with his flag in his hand. He only waited for the door to be opened.
“Come,” exclaimed Ranger, “Heathcote may go on ahead as a herald, but I do feel that it will be a crying shame and disgrace if we let him go alone. We ought all to fall in, and march out into the playground to support him if necessary. As for those boozing fellows up there in the corner, they have deceived and cheated us, that is very evident. We are not bound to them; they may follow if they like.”
Perhaps Ranger was not quite right in this, though Scarborough and his set certainly did not deserve that terms should be kept with them.
The thoughts of fresh air and exercise, and the hope of bringing their present uncomfortable condition to a termination, made the great mass, without a moment’s further consideration, yield to the proposal; and, falling in together, the moment the door was opened and Digby had gone forth, they hurried out after him.
No one was in the schoolroom, but it looked as if it had been swept, the desks scraped and polished, and everything put in good order.
Out into the playground they marched, following Digby so closely that he appeared to be at their head. Ranger, Farnham, Newland, and his other chief friends kept directly behind him.
They had just reached the playground, and were facing the glass door opening from the house into it, when the door was opened, and a tall, very gentlemanly, youngish-looking man appeared at it, with Mr Moore, their favourite master, standing behind him. The stranger advanced towards them,—
“I am glad to meet you here, young gentlemen,” he said, in a very harmonious voice. “I understand that you have for some days past shut yourselves up in your play-room, in consequence, it is supposed, of your being dissatisfied with some arrangements which were made regarding you. My name is Dr Graham. I am now the master of this school, Mr Sanford having yielded his authority, with the sanction of your parents, into my hands. I shall at all times willingly listen to any complaints you have to make. Let me know the grievance which caused you to shut yourselves up as you have lately done.”
Digby, in a manly and straightforward way, told him exactly why they had thus acted.
“It was done at my request,” said Dr Graham. “I found, on inquiry, that most reprehensible practices took place on these occasions, and as I have a number of pupils of my own who will soon become the companions of some of you, I wished to stop all liberty till I could arrange how to deal with the culprits. My object, understand, is to have a school of happy, Christian, gentlemanly boys. There is no reason why all should not be very happy and contented; and I am resolved not to allow those of whom I have hopes of becoming so to suffer for those of whom I can have but very slight or no hope at all. Mr Moore, are these all the boys?”
“No, Sir, there are several absent, who, I fear, must be justly placed in the last category,” answered Mr Moore.
“Where are they, then?” asked Dr Graham, looking at Digby.
“In the play-room, Sir,” he answered, feeling as if he was acting a treacherous part towards them; but truly he could have said only what he did.
“We will go there at once, and see the state of affairs,” said the Doctor. It is possible he might have guessed, though, from Susan’s information. “Follow me, young gentlemen.”
Guided by Mr Moore, he went direct to the play-room.
What was the consternation of the wretched tipplers when, looking up, they found themselves deserted by their companions, and saw a stranger, with one of their masters, at the door. Scarborough tried to get up, after gazing round at them in a stupid, idiotic way, but fell forward on his face; while the rest sat still, stupidly glaring up at him and Mr Moore. At last, when they attempted to rise, they fell down as Scarborough had done.
“I shall have little difficulty in settling how to deal with those miserable fellows,” said the Doctor, pointing scornfully at them. “They are, I conclude, from what Mrs Pike tells me, the heads and instigators of this most sagaciously conducted and commendable rebellion. Happily, I am not bound to keep any boy with whose character I am not satisfied. Mr Moore, I must request you to take down the names of those I see in that corner of the room. I wish also to know those of the young gentlemen who met me openly in the playground, and especially of their leader, with the flag of truce. I accept it as a sign that they are sorry for what has occurred, and grant a full amnesty to all those who have followed it.”
The boys, on hearing these words, spoken in a thoroughly kind, frank manner, gave vent to their feelings in a loud hearty shout. The expressions touched all their better feelings.
“Long live Dr Graham!” cried Digby.
“May he long be our master, and we be his obedient attentive pupils!” added Newland, who had the happy knack of giving the right turn to a sentiment.
The cry was taken up by the rest of the boys, and the Doctor turned round and said, smiling, “Thank you; I am well satisfied. I feel sure that we shall always be good friends. Now go up into your rooms and get ready for dinner.”
The basins and jugs were carried upstairs, hands and faces were washed, and clothes changed, and when the dinner-bell rang, they went down into the dining-room, where Mrs Pike received them with a smile as if nothing had happened, and all declared that they never had had so good a dinner at the school—certainly, never had they been more hungry. And thus the mighty rebellion was concluded. Dr Graham had not promised that they should go out on a Saturday, so that they had gained nothing whatever by their movement.
Only Mr Moore and Mrs Pike superintended at dinner. The other three masters, they found, had gone.
“Before we separate,” said Mrs Pike, standing up when she had served out the last helping of pudding, “I have a few words to say to you. I am very sorry that you spent three days so unpleasantly as you must have done this week, because Mr Sanford had intended granting you, in consequence of his illness, half-holidays every day, and but slight tasks in the morning, till the arrival of Dr Graham, who has for some time arranged to take charge of the school. He had charged me to do my best to find you amusement. On Monday I had ordered carriages to take you to a pic-nic in Fairley Wood; Tuesday, a famous conjuror was to have come; and on Wednesday you were to have had a grand tea in the garden here, and fireworks afterwards. However, perhaps you thought yourselves better employed. All I can say is, that I am sorry for what has occurred, but intend to forget all about it; though, as those who win may laugh, I might be allowed, if I chose, to make fun of you.”
“Sold again—admirably sold!” exclaimed Farnham to Digby, as they walked into the playground. They were not much inclined to play, though, for never had they felt more weary and sleepy. Though the fresh air revived them, they heartily wished for bed-time.
It was soon whispered about that Doctor Graham had resolved on expelling Scarborough and all his set. Everybody acknowledged the justice of this decision, and rejoiced at it. The only one of the party who was allowed to remain was Julian Langley, in consequence of his having only so lately come to the school.
“Dr Graham,” repeated Digby, after he and his companions had been discussing the merits of their new master, “why, that is the very name of the master of the school to which Arthur Haviland was going. I wonder where he comes from. All I can say is, that he seems a first-rate man, and sensible and kind, and so Arthur said his master was.”
Two days after this, Dr Graham announced that the pupils from his former school were about to arrive. In the evening, four carriages full of them drew up at the door. Digby looked eagerly out, and there, sure enough, in the very first was Arthur Haviland. How delighted were the two friends to see each other. The surprise was mutual, for neither of them were certain that they were to meet. The Doctor, knowing how certain any change of this sort was to unsettle boys’ minds, had not told them till the last moment the arrangements which had been made. The two sets of schoolboys became acquainted with each other with great rapidity. The Doctor had won the hearts of nearly all his new pupils by his clemency and urbanity, while what was still more satisfactory, all his old ones spoke in the warmest terms of him.
A new system was at once inaugurated. A first master, a very gentlemanly man and a good scholar, took the place of the little-loved Mr Yates; Mr Moore kept his post as second master; the third, who took the place of the ill-conditioned Mr Tugman, was a very nice, quiet-looking lad, with whom at first the boys thought they could do anything; but they very soon found that beneath that calm countenance there dwelt a most determined spirit; that he had lately left a first-rate public school, where he had been praeposter of his house, and that he was thoroughly up to all the ways and dodges of boys. He had been for a short time at one of the Universities, which his want of means had compelled him to leave, and thus he had become an usher for the sake of saving money to take him there again. He worked hard himself, and he was determined that those under him should work hard also. The writing-master was also a gentleman, for Dr Graham felt the importance of having a good example set, even in minute points, to those whom he wished to see turn out gentlemen in every respect. He had explained to Mrs Pike his wish that all the provisioning and household arrangements should be established on the most liberal footing. I want the boys to have as much and as pleasant food as they would have at home, so that they may have no cause to regret coming here, because they are no longer to have the nice things to which they have been accustomed. Teacups and saucers, and spoons, and plates, and knives, were introduced at breakfast and tea, so that the boys might spread their own bread with butter, or honey, or marmalade. At dinner, too, the usual arrangements of a gentleman’s dining table were introduced—plated spoons and forks, and glass tumblers—and there were fruit tarts and puddings, and vegetables; indeed, an abundance of such things as were in season.
“These may appear trifles, Mrs Pike,” observed the Doctor, when that thrifty housewife ventured to expostulate with him; “but they have a considerable effect on boys. I doubt whether they will very much increase your weekly bills, and I am certain that they will assist to give the lads gentlemanly tastes, and assist me very considerably in managing them. It is, believe me, much easier to govern a school of gentlemanly boys than one full of those of an opposite character. My great wish is, to be able to place perfect confidence in their words. They will then require much less supervision and much less constraint. I explain this, because I think that you will aid in establishing those principles.”
“That I will, sir,” answered Mrs Pike, who was a very sensible woman, and saw at once the superiority of the Doctor’s system over that which had hitherto prevailed.
In a short time a marked difference was observed in the school, and the boys were generally infinitely happier and more contented. At the same time there were still grumblers and dissatisfied ones.
“It is all very well—a new broom sweeps clean,” said they. “Wait a little; we shall soon get back into our old ways.”
They discovered, however, that the new broom went on sweeping cleaner and cleaner, till only the bad had excuse for grumbling, because they found it difficult to indulge in their malpractices. Of course there were bad ones, even though Scarborough and his set had been expelled. Some of those the Doctor brought with him were bad, and some of those who were already in the school were so, and they very soon found each other out.
Julian Langley had plenty of companions, but still he tried very hard to win back Digby’s friendship. Had Arthur Haviland not been there he might have succeeded; but Arthur had gained a perfect insight into Julian’s character, and considered him a very dangerous companion for Digby. Julian very soon discovered now much Arthur disliked him, and determined to have his revenge.
From the time of Dr Graham’s arrival the whole system of the school was completely changed. There was a much stricter supervision, at the same time that there was much more real liberty. Bullying—that is to say, glaring tyranny and cruelty—was almost entirely put a stop to; only the would-be bullies and the very bad ones any longer could in any way complain. The Saturday excursions were once more allowed; but the boys were especially charged not to trespass, or to do any damage; and they had to pass their words that they would adhere strictly to the rules laid down. A monitorial system was established. Six boys of different ages were selected, for their general good conduct, discretion, temper, and acknowledged high principles, to act as monitors. They had a number of privileges as a recompense for the onerous duties with which they were entrusted, and which they were never known to neglect. When any distant excursion was made, one of the monitors was obliged to accompany the party, and to give a full account of all their proceedings. One of the other boys was also frequently called on to do the same. On all half-holidays they might obtain leave to go out where they liked, provided every two hours they came back and reported themselves, so that no one could go to any great distance; nor could, as before, an ill-conditioned fellow like Scarborough spend his time in smoking and drinking without being found out. Digby liked the change excessively; he was constantly with Arthur Haviland, and benefited much by his companionship; for, in truth, a high-principled boy has great power in influencing his friends and associates for good. Julian sneered, but sneered in vain, and at last ceased to try and tempt Digby to join him in his malpractices. Still Digby found it very difficult to keep altogether aloof from his former associate; there had been no cause of quarrel between them, nothing that he could well allege to separate them; and even the occasional remarks which Julian let fall, and the knowledge of the mode in which he spent his time, did harm, and might have had a serious effect on him, as it had undoubtedly on some of his other schoolfellows.