Ernest Bracebridge: School Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Now the opposite party rushed in, and sent it flying back over his head and the heads of several standing behind him; but Buttar and Gregson had fully expected this, and were prepared accordingly to defend their goal. They met the ball hopping along in full career, and sent it back so far that, before anybody could rush in, Ernest had been able to give it an expediting kick, and to send it very close up to his opponent’s goal. Now there was a general and terrific rush up towards Lemon’s goal, and his followers found that they had good reason to dread the impetuosity and courage of the smaller boys. Ernest had chiefly selected his side from among those who possessed most pluck and endurance. Fearless of kicks, overthrows, or crushes, on they dashed at the ball. Now and then a big fellow like Barber would try and get a kick at it; but immediately he was met by a dozen sharp-moving toes, which struck away so desperately that he could never get a fair kick. For a long time the ball kept moving backwards and forwards near Lemon’s goal, the attention of all his side being required to prevent it from being kicked through it. Several times it rose into the air, but was speedily sent back again; yet no one on Ernest’s side could manage to send it back over the heads of their opponents. Buttar and Tom Bouldon were always in the midst of the mêlée. More than once Bouldon was overthrown, but he always picked himself up, and however much damaged, postponed, as he said, an inspection of his wounds till the game was over. Ernest, as in duty bound, had to avoid a mêlée, that when the ball came out of it he might be in a position to direct the movements of his party. Gregson never got into one intentionally; but when he did, he showed that he was as steady and fearless as any one; but his tactics were to keep moving about, to be ready to assist his chief, or to take up the ball when it approached the goal. Some called him the sluggish player; but Lemon’s party found it difficult enough to send the ball through the goal when he was to be found anywhere near it. Dawson and three or four other big fellows had got the ball between them, and were pushing it forward triumphantly, having completely overwhelmed Ernest and his immediate supporters by sheer strength, and were fully expecting to drive it without impediment through the goal, when Gregson, who had been standing a little on one side, saw them coming. Only little Eden and some other small boys were near, but they, one and all, if not for the honour of the game, were ready to risk anything for the sake of Bracebridge. Gregson called them. They all saw what was required of them. Gregson rushed in, fully meeting the ball; with a swinging leg, he gave it a lifting kick, and sent it right over the heads of his opponents. The little fellows rushed in behind them, and began to kick on the ball. This compelled the big fellows once more to separate, and again to retrograde so as to front it. Gregson, Eden, and their companions threw themselves impetuously on it. One after the other went over it, till the ball was hidden under a heap of boys. Barber, and some others, dared not kick, or they would have done so; and while they were lifting up their opponents to get once more at the ball, Ernest, Buttar, Bouldon, and others came up to the rescue, and once more the ball was banded backwards and forwards as furiously as ever. For long the fortune of the day appeared as doubtful as ever. I have observed that big boys never play so well, when opposed to others evidently smaller, than themselves, as they do when their antagonists are of the same age and strength as they are. This, perhaps, was one of the secrets of Ernest’s success in all the matches he played. He chose his side for cleverness, and activity, and daring, and, what was more, they all trusted in him, and were ready to do anything he ordered. Every now and then there was a loud shout and a tremendous rush, and finally the ball would come out of the mêlée and, left in the power of a few trusted players, could be seen flying backwards and forwards between them, each side watching for a favourable opportunity to drive it at once home to the goal. Now, at length, Ernest has got it. It was sent to the extreme right of the players. This was done by a dodge of Gregson’s. He was invaluable for any movement of the sort, and staunch as steel. Onward Ernest kicks the ball; his side rush in to prevent the approach of their opponents, who have mostly been led off to the ground. A few only are fully aware of what is about to occur. A few rush on desperately to stop the progress of the ball; but the young ones are too energetic and too quick for them. They urge it on; the rest stand for an instant aside, to let Ernest give a last kick. It is a grand effort of strength and skill, and the ball flies through the goal, amid the shouts of all his side, echoed by the applause of the spectators.

Lemon and many of his supporters took their defeat very good-naturedly, and with sincerity congratulated Ernest and his side on their success. A few of the less amiably disposed were somewhat sulky, especially among those of his own size; so was Barber, who was afraid that he should lose the influence he wished to obtain from being beaten by the younger boys. This was only one of several games. Ernest was not always successful; twice his side were beat thoroughly, but they made up for it afterwards, and in the end won more games than the bigger boys, much to the surprise of the latter, who could not tell how it had occurred. Some, like Barber, said that there must have been some underhand play, and abused Lemon as the cause of their defeat. Lemon at last heard some of their remarks.

“If big fellows will smoke, and booze, and over-eat themselves, how can they expect to be as active and wide-awake as little fellows, who have not begun such follies?” he remarked quietly. “It matters little, let me assure them, what such fellows say of me.”

Both Ernest and Buttar had thought a good deal about the matter of Ellis. After a lengthened consultation, when their hearts relented towards him, they resolved to press him once more to join their games; but he resolutely refused.

“No,” he replied. “You have believed me guilty, or you would not have treated me coldly. I do not blame you—far from it. If you heard the story about me, as I know it has been repeated, you could not have done otherwise, unless you had thought right to believe my word before that of others. Should the time ever come when I can, to your satisfaction, prove my innocence, we will then be on the same terms as before.”

“Oh, but we do believe you innocent, Ellis,” said Ernest. “Not a shadow of doubt remains on my mind that you are so, and I am sure Buttar thinks as I do.”

“Very well,” answered Ellis, with unusual coldness; “I rejoice to hear it. I have taken my resolution. I cannot bear fluctuations of friendship. If I am ever able to prove my innocence, as I ought to have endeavoured to prove it long ago, I trust that we shall stand on the same footing that we did before.”

Nothing any of his friends could say after this altered the resolution Ellis had formed of not playing in any of the games with the other boys, or of associating on intimate terms with any of them. Still he himself was far from idle in his play-hours. He was a constant exerciser on the gymnastic poles, and never failed to practise, when he could, both with the foils and broadsword. He also took lessons regularly in dancing and drilling, and seemed anxious to perfect himself in all athletic exercises.

However coldly others had treated Ellis, there was one person who ever turned a deaf ear to the stories told of him, and never for a moment altered his conduct towards him. That was Monsieur Malin. From the time Ellis had begun to learn French of him he had become his firm friend. Some believed that Ellis had confided to him the circumstances of his past history; but the less generous could not understand how he had managed to secure the regard of the French master, and fancied that he had invented some tale to gain his sympathy.

Thus the half-year drew on; the cold weather at last passed away. Spring commenced, the flowers bloomed, the leaves came out on the trees, the birds began to sing, the fish to dart and leap out of the water. Ernest and Buttar were reminded of a visit they promised, long, long before, to pay to John Hodge. They agreed to make it a fishing expedition, and to try their luck in the wide stream they had crossed on that day memorable for their hare hunt. They invited Gregson to accompany them. They wished to ask Ellis, but the moment school was over he had disappeared, and had not even waited for dinner. To absent himself he must have obtained leave from the Doctor; so they set off without him. They were very merry. Gregson was excessively amusing, with his quaint anecdotes about animal life and the adventures which had happened to him.