We always breakfasted later on this day of the week, and after the meal was done generally lounged about the room while the old woman was clearing up, waiting till it was time for us to assemble for what we styled our “church parade;” but, this morning, the boys seemed out of sorts, and went back again up-stairs after they had finished, leaving only Tom and myself in the refectory, while the old woman was removing the breakfast things and putting on a clean table-cloth for dinner. She quitted the apartment as soon as she had swept up the fireplace, placing enough coal on the fire to last till the afternoon, and otherwise completing her arrangements—then going down to the kitchen, from which we knew she would not emerge until we came back from church again, when it would be time to sound the gong for dinner—which meal was also an hour later on Sundays than on week days; and, being generally of a more sumptuous description, it required extra cooking.
This was the opportunity Tom and I had waited for all along, in pursuance of our plan; so, long ere the old woman had reached her sanctum below, we were at work, having taken advantage of the time we were washing in the lavatory before breakfast to put our fireworks and combustible matter in our pockets, whence we now quickly proceeded to extract the explosive agents, and deposit them in certain fixed positions we had arranged beforehand after much consultation.
Now, what I am going to relate I would much rather not tell about, as it concerns what I consider a very shameful episode in my life. The only thing I can urge in extenuation of my conduct is the lax manner in which my earlier life was looked after in my uncle’s house, where my worse passions were allowed full play, without that judicious control which parental guidance would perhaps have exercised on my inherent disposition for giving vent to temper, with no thought whatever of the consequences of any hare-brained act I might commit. I narrate, therefore, the circumstances that led to my running away from school, merely because my mad and wicked attempt to injure Dr Hellyer is a portion of my life-history, and I wish to describe all that happened to me truthfully, without glossing over a single incident to my discredit. I thus hope that no boy reading this will, on the strength of my example, be prompted to do evil, with the malicious idea of “paying off a grudge.” I may add that I entirely take all the blame to myself, for, had it not been for me, Tom Larkyns, I am sure, would have had no hand in the matter; and you will see later on, if you proceed with my story, how, through the wonderful workings of Providence, I was almost subjected to the same terrible fate I had been the means of preparing for our schoolmaster; although, fortunately, the evil design I and Tom planned only reverted on our own heads. Our diabolical scheme was more than a thoughtless one. It might, besides, jeopardising the life of Dr Hellyer, have set fire to the house, when, perhaps, many of our schoolfellows might have been burnt to death.
The first thing Dr Hellyer always did on entering the refectory when he returned from church was, as we well knew, to walk up to the fireplace, where he would give the bars a thorough raking out with the poker and then heap a large shovelful of coals on from the adjacent scuttle. In this receptacle, Tom and I now carefully placed about a quarter of a pound of gunpowder with some squibs, the latter blackened over like the shining Wallsend knobs, so as to escape detection; and then, such was our fiendish plan, we concealed under the cushion of the Doctor’s armchair a packet of crackers, connected with a long tiny thread of a fuse leading midway under the centre of the broad table, so that it could not be seen or interfered with by the boys’ feet as they sat at dinner, along the floor to the end of the form where we usually sat, near the entrance to the apartment.
“I shall manage to light this fuse somehow or other,” Tom said, assuming the control of this infernal machine; and then, after going into the hall to get our caps, giving another look round the room when we came back, to see whether our preparations were noticeable, we awaited Dr Hellyer’s summons to proceed to church—with calm satisfaction at the so far successful issue of our calculations.
During our processional walk we were both in high glee at the grand “blowing up” that would happen on our return—a sort of “Roland for an Oliver” in return for the many different sorts of blowings up we had received at Dr Hellyer’s hands at one time and another. I was all the more excited, too, for I had made up my mind to attempt another exploit of which I had not even warned Tom, but which would probably throw his sublime conception into the shade.
I had, in my visits to the different coasting craft in the harbour, been presented by a fisherman with a lot of very small fish-hooks. These I had in the morning attached by thin pieces of thread to several fire crackers, which I intended for my own personal satisfaction to present to the Doctor, although in a way he would not relish or dream of.
If there was one thing more than another that Dr Hellyer esteemed I think I have already sufficiently pointed out it was his dignity—to the glory of which the archdeacon’s hat he always wore on Sundays eminently contributed; and, as may be believed, he venerated this head-covering accordingly.
It was against this hat I contemplated taking especial proceedings now.
Being held to be an outlaw to all ordinary discipline, the Doctor, to have me under his own eye, made me walk close behind him in the procession formed for our march to and from church. Tom and some three or four other unruly members were also similarly distinguished; and, as walking two-and-two abreast we made such a long string, that the masters behind could not see what was going on in front, we usually had a good deal of fun in the rear of the Doctor, without, of course, his perceiving it, or the teachers betraying us.