Weatherby's Inning: A Story of College Life and Baseball

by Ralph Henry Barbour

The first time that Jack found the cold water lapping his knees he went pale with terror, and would have fled ignominiously had not Anthony seized and encouraged him. In the end, he allowed the other to persuade him to remain where he was and, after gingerly splashing himself with water, watch his teacher a few yards beyond illustrate the method of swimming. Anthony realized that he had a task before him that required a deal of diplomacy, and he carefully avoided saying or doing anything to increase Jack’s dread of the water.

After four lessons Jack had gone the length of immersing himself and, held tightly by Anthony, had essayed a few wild strokes with arms and legs. Anthony strove to teach confidence first of all, and it was not until Jack could allow him away from his side that Anthony set about the easier part of his task. As soon as Jack could struggle for a few strokes through the water Anthony taught him to float. And it was not until Jack could float in every possible position that the swimming lessons were resumed. Then progress was rapid. By the middle of June Jack could swim out to a rush-covered raft which had been anchored about a hundred feet from shore by enterprising duck-hunters. At first Anthony kept beside him; later, they had races in which Anthony left Jack half-way to the goal; in the end, Jack found courage to swim to the raft and back by himself. But, as I have said, that was not until June was half over, and before that other things had happened.

It was on the fourth of the month, a Wednesday, that Jack, for the first time, played a game through as second-baseman. Erskine’s opponents were the Dexter nine, a hard-hitting aggregation of preparatory schoolboys, and to meet them Hanson and Perkins put in a team largely composed of substitutes. This team, in batting order, was as follows:

Perkins, catcher.
King, pitcher.
Northup, right-field.
Mears, first base.
Weatherby, second base.
Smith, third base.
Clover, shortstop.
Lowe, left-field.
Riseman, center-field.

The last six, with the exception of Lowe, were substitutes, and before the game was over Lowe, too, had been replaced, Showell going in for him. Jack’s playing that afternoon raised his stock fully a hundred per cent. He was in fine fettle—he had never felt better in his life than he had since he began his morning dips in the cold waters of the Cove—and covered the second of what Anthony had called the salt-bags in a manner that opened the eyes of his companions and caused “Wally” Styles much uneasiness. His batting, too, was as good as his fielding; he had the honor of making the first hit and the first run for Erskine, and was the only man on the team that afternoon, with the exception of Perkins, who knocked out a home run in the sixth, able to hit the Dexter pitcher for more than one base. In the fifth inning his three-bagger was clean and timely, bringing in two runs and placing him where he was able to score a minute after on a passed ball.

Dexter made things extremely interesting for a while in the seventh inning, getting in two runs and filling the bases again directly afterward. It was Jack, then, who, in a measure, saved the day. With the bags all occupied, Dexter’s catcher went to bat and lined out a hot ball just to the right of King. There was one out. King got one hand on the ball, but failed to stop it. Jack, who had run forward to back him up, found the ball in the air and threw quickly and true to the plate in time to put out the runner. Then Perkins, without more than a second’s pause, returned it to Jack, who was again covering second, and Jack found the Dexter catcher two feet off base.

The game ended with the score 5 to 2, and of those five tallies two were opposite Jack’s name. The other three belonged to Perkins and Northup. Jack’s record that day included four put-outs and five assists, and held no errors. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having done a good afternoon’s work that put him in such a state of elation that composing verse alone seemed to satisfy him. When half past seven arrived and he had not appeared in Anthony’s room, Anthony went in search of him and discovered him curled up in a ball on his bed, laboring with pencil and pad and flushed cheeks.

“I’ve got it!” cried Jack.

“Got what?” asked Anthony.

“The song! Listen!” Jack squirmed about on the creaking cot until he had his back against the wall. Then he waved his pad triumphantly over his head. “It goes to the tune of ‘John Brown’s Body’; you suggested that, you know; and I didn’t have any trouble at all; and the rhymes are all right, too, I think! Now, then!” And Jack, beating time with his pencil, recited sonorously his verses: