Foxholme Hall, and Other Tales

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Oh, I’ll tell you,” said Anson. “A good number of fellows from time to time got drowned from boats being capsized, and at last a law was passed that no fellow should be allowed to boat till he had passed a swimming examination before certain of the masters. We have an old waterman, Harry Cannon, who teaches the lower boys to swim at Cuckoo Weir. As soon as he thinks a fellow can swim well enough he advises him to have a try the next passing day. It’s great fun to see the weather-beaten old fellow Harry in his Eton blue coat and Eton arms worked in silver on his sleeve, as he sits in his punt from one end to the other of a summer’s day, dangling lower boys at the end of a short blue pole. Often fellows, if they have any pluck, can swim in two or three weeks. They make nothing of bathing three times a day in summer when they are learning to swim. Just go any warm summer day to Cuckoo Weir, after twelve, or after four, or after six, and you’ll find it crowded with fellows bathing, and many of them waiting till Harry can give them a turn in his belt. On a passing day two or three of the masters come down and take their stand just above ‘Middle Steps.’ A punt then carries out a number of shivering and rather funking fellows into the middle of the stream, and as the master gives the word, one after another jumps overboard, and according to his pluck takes a ‘rat’s header’ or ‘forter.’ Then away they swim to the lower steps, and if they get there in safety and in pretty good style, they have to swim out again from where the master is standing, turn, and come back when he calls. If they sing out like Caesar, ‘Help me, Cassius, or I sink,’ they are handed over again to Harry Cannon for further instruction; but if the master says ‘You’ll do,’ then the chances are that some of the friends of the fellow who has passed have come up in a boat, and they say that they will take him down to the Brocas if he will steer them. The probabilities are, that he knows nothing about steering, and as little about the sides of the river he ought to keep; so, of course, he will run them into the bank once or twice, if not oftener, before they get into the real river at ‘Bargeman’s Bridge,’ and he is certain to get in the way of an eight just below Brocas Clump, from not crossing over soon enough. But you’ll know all about this before long, so I needn’t have told you, except that it is useful to know what you have to go through. I forgot to tell you that the bathing-place to which the fifth form go is called Athens, and of course it is a good deal better than Cuckoo Weir.”

Reginald thanked Anson very much for his graphic account of their bathing and boating, and he said that he should, thanks to Toby Tubb’s instruction, get passed on the first passing day, that he might at once begin boating.

This resolution was very much applauded, for both Power and Anson were warm advocates of boating. It was now nearly lock-up time, so they had to go back to their tutors. On their way Reginald was accosted by a number of boys, who, in pretty sharp tones, inquired his name.

“Are you at a dame’s house?”

“No; I am in Mr Lindsay’s house,” he answered.

“I say, are you come to school here? What’s your name, then?” asked another. “What house are you in?”

Reginald told him. So on it went till nearly a hundred boys had made the same inquiries, and received the same answer. Reginald was not sorry to get back to Mr Lindsay’s, for he was really beginning to get tired, and be a little hungry, too, in spite of his dinner at the Christopher. Power and Anson came to his room to help him put it in order; but he had a considerable number of other visitors, mostly Fourth-Form boys, who came in to ask him his name, and to make him tell all about himself.

“I knew a Warrender,” said one. “Are you his cousin? He was a fellow with a hooked nose and hawk’s eyes.”

“Warrender you mean,” put in another; “Warrender who was here was a very good-looking fellow, only he squinted with one eye, and never could parse a line of Horace correctly.”

Reginald said that he had no cousin that he knew of, though he might possibly be related to the talented individual spoken of. The answers he made to the very miscellaneous and unexpected questions put to him satisfied them that the new boy was no “muff.” The lower boys especially felt a great respect for him, because he acted in so very different a way from what they had done, and took all things so completely us matters of course. He went into Power’s room to take tea, where Anson and two or three other fellows of Power’s standing joined them. He was in the lower Fifth Form. Shortly before bed-time they went down to the hall to supper. Here he, of course, had again to reply to the various questions put to him by boys he had not before met. Then Mr Lindsay invited him to come and have some conversation, and seemed tolerably satisfied by the answers he made to all the questions put to him. A bell then rang, and the names of all the boys belonging to the house being called over by one of the praepositors, to ascertain that none were missing, prayers were read by Mr Lindsay, after which all the boys retired to their rooms to go to bed. Reginald, as may be supposed, very quickly tumbled into his, and went to sleep. Thus ended the first day at Eton.