CHAPTER XXVIII
MIKE WINS HOME
The Ripton last-wicket man was de Freece, the slow bowler. He wasapparently a young gentleman wholly free from the curse ofnervousness. He wore a cheerful smile as he took guard beforereceiving the first ball after lunch, and Wrykyn had plenty ofopportunity of seeing that that was his normal expression when at thewickets. There is often a certain looseness about the attack afterlunch, and the bowler of googlies took advantage of it now. He seemedto be a batsman with only one hit; but he had also a very accurateeye, and his one hit, a semicircular stroke, which suggested the golflinks rather than the cricket field, came off with distressingfrequency. He mowed Burgess's first ball to the square-leg boundary,missed his second, and snicked the third for three over long-slip'shead. The other batsman played out the over, and de Freece proceededto treat Ellerby's bowling with equal familiarity. The scoring-boardshowed an increase of twenty as the result of three overs. Everyrun was invaluable now, and the Ripton contingent made the pavilionre-echo as a fluky shot over mid-on's head sent up the hundred andfifty.
There are few things more exasperating to the fielding side than alast-wicket stand. It resembles in its effect the dragging-out of abook or play after the _denouement_ has been reached. At the fallof the ninth wicket the fieldsmen nearly always look on their outingas finished. Just a ball or two to the last man, and it will be theirturn to bat. If the last man insists on keeping them out in the field,they resent it.
What made it especially irritating now was the knowledge that astraight yorker would solve the whole thing. But when Burgess bowled ayorker, it was not straight. And when he bowled a straight ball, itwas not a yorker. A four and a three to de Freece, and a four bye sentup a hundred and sixty.
It was beginning to look as if this might go on for ever, whenEllerby, who had been missing the stumps by fractions of an inch,for the last ten minutes, did what Burgess had failed to do. Hebowled a straight, medium-paced yorker, and de Freece, swiping at itwith a bright smile, found his leg-stump knocked back. He had madetwenty-eight. His record score, he explained to Mike, as they walkedto the pavilion, for this or any ground.
The Ripton total was a hundred and sixty-six.
* * * * *
With the ground in its usual true, hard condition, Wrykyn would havegone in against a score of a hundred and sixty-six with the cheeryintention of knocking off the runs for the loss of two or threewickets. It would have been a gentle canter for them.
But ordinary standards would not apply here. On a good wicket Wrykynthat season were a two hundred and fifty to three hundred side. On abad wicket--well, they had met the Incogniti on a bad wicket, andtheir total--with Wyatt playing and making top score--had worked outat a hundred and seven.
A grim determination to do their best, rather than confidence thattheir best, when done, would be anything record-breaking, was thespirit which animated the team when they opened their innings.
And in five minutes this had changed to a dull gloom.
The tragedy started with the very first ball. It hardly seemed thatthe innings had begun, when Morris was seen to leave the crease, andmake for the pavilion.
"It's that googly man," said Burgess blankly.
"What's happened?" shouted a voice from the interior of the firsteleven room.
"Morris is out."
"Good gracious! How?" asked Ellerby, emerging from the room with onepad on his leg and the other in his hand.
"L.-b.-w. First ball."
"My aunt! Who's in next? Not me?"
"No. Berridge. For goodness sake, Berry, stick a bat in the way, andnot your legs. Watch that de Freece man like a hawk. He breaks likesin all over the shop. Hullo, Morris! Bad luck! Were you out, do youthink?" A batsman who has been given l.-b.-w. is always asked thisquestion on his return to the pavilion, and he answers it in ninecases out of ten in the negative. Morris was the tenth case. Hethought it was all right, he said.
"Thought the thing was going to break, but it didn't."
"Hear that, Berry? He doesn't always break. You must look out forthat," said Burgess helpfully. Morris sat down and began to take offhis pads.
"That chap'll have Berry, if he doesn't look out," he said.
But Berridge survived the ordeal. He turned his first ball to leg fora single.
This brought Marsh to the batting end; and the second tragedyoccurred.
It was evident from the way he shaped that Marsh was short ofpractice. His visit to the Infirmary had taken the edge off hisbatting. He scratched awkwardly at three balls without hitting them.The last of the over had him in two minds. He started to play forward,changed his stroke suddenly and tried to step back, and the nextmoment the bails had shot up like the _debris_ of a smallexplosion, and the wicket-keeper was clapping his gloved hands gentlyand slowly in the introspective, dreamy way wicket-keepers have onthese occasions.
A silence that could be felt brooded over the pavilion.
The voice of the scorer, addressing from his little wooden hut themelancholy youth who was working the telegraph-board, broke it.
"One for two. Last man duck."
Ellerby echoed the remark. He got up, and took off his blazer.
"This is all right," he said, "isn't it! I wonder if the man at theother end is a sort of young Rhodes too!"
Fortunately he was not. The star of the Ripton attack was evidently deFreece. The bowler at the other end looked fairly plain. He sent themdown medium-pace, and on a good wicket would probably have beensimple. But to-day there was danger in the most guileless-lookingdeliveries.
Berridge relieved the tension a little by playing safely through theover, and scoring a couple of twos off it. And when Ellerby not onlysurvived the destructive de Freece's second over, but actually lifteda loose ball on to the roof of the scoring-hut, the cloud beganperceptibly to lift. A no-ball in the same over sent up the first ten.Ten for two was not good; but it was considerably better than one fortwo.
With the score at thirty, Ellerby was missed in the slips off deFreece. He had been playing with slowly increasing confidence tillthen, but this seemed to throw him out of his stride. He played insidethe next ball, and was all but bowled: and then, jumping out to drive,he was smartly stumped. The cloud began to settle again.
Bob was the next man in.
Ellerby took off his pads, and dropped into the chair next to Mike's.Mike was silent and thoughtful. He was in after Bob, and to be on theeve of batting does not make one conversational.
"You in next?" asked Ellerby.
Mike nodded.
"It's getting trickier every minute," said Ellerby. "The only thingis, if we can only stay in, we might have a chance. The wicket'll getbetter, and I don't believe they've any bowling at all bar de Freece.By George, Bob's out!... No, he isn't."
Bob had jumped out at one of de Freece's slows, as Ellerby had done,and had nearly met the same fate. The wicket-keeper, however, hadfumbled the ball.
"That's the way I was had," said Ellerby. "That man's keeping such ajolly good length that you don't know whether to stay in your groundor go out at them. If only somebody would knock him off his length, Ibelieve we might win yet."
The same idea apparently occurred to Burgess. He came to where Mikewas sitting.
"I'm going to shove you down one, Jackson," he said. "I shall go innext myself and swipe, and try and knock that man de Freece off."
"All right," said Mike. He was not quite sure whether he was glad orsorry at the respite.
"It's a pity old Wyatt isn't here," said Ellerby. "This is just thesort of time when he might have come off."
"Bob's broken his egg," said Mike.
"Good man. Every little helps.... Oh, you silly ass, get _back_!"
Berridge had called Bob for a short run that was obviously no run.Third man was returning the ball as the batsmen crossed. The nextmoment the wicket-keeper had the bails off. Berridge was out by ayard.
"Forty-one for four," said Ellerby. "Help!"
Burgess began his campaign against de Freece by skying his firstball over cover's head to the boundary. A howl of delight went upfrom the school, which was repeated, _fortissimo_, when, moreby accident than by accurate timing, the captain put on two morefours past extra-cover. The bowler's cheerful smile never varied.
Whether Burgess would have knocked de Freece off his length or not wasa question that was destined to remain unsolved, for in the middle ofthe other bowler's over Bob hit a single; the batsmen crossed; andBurgess had his leg-stump uprooted while trying a gigantic pull-stroke.
The melancholy youth put up the figures, 54, 5, 12, on the board.
Mike, as he walked out of the pavilion to join Bob, was not consciousof any particular nervousness. It had been an ordeal having to waitand look on while wickets fell, but now that the time of inaction wasat an end he felt curiously composed. When he had gone out to batagainst the M.C.C. on the occasion of his first appearance for theschool, he experienced a quaint sensation of unreality. He seemed tobe watching his body walking to the wickets, as if it were some oneelse's. There was no sense of individuality.
But now his feelings were different. He was cool. He noticed smallthings--mid-off chewing bits of grass, the bowler re-tying the scarfround his waist, little patches of brown where the turf had been wornaway. He took guard with a clear picture of the positions of thefieldsmen photographed on his brain.
Fitness, which in a batsman exhibits itself mainly in an increasedpower of seeing the ball, is one of the most inexplicable thingsconnected with cricket. It has nothing, or very little, to do withactual health. A man may come out of a sick-room with just that extraquickness in sighting the ball that makes all the difference; or hemay be in perfect training and play inside straight half-volleys. Mikewould not have said that he felt more than ordinarily well that day.Indeed, he was rather painfully conscious of having bolted his food atlunch. But something seemed to whisper to him, as he settled himselfto face the bowler, that he was at the top of his batting form. Adifficult wicket always brought out his latent powers as a bat. It wasa standing mystery with the sporting Press how Joe Jackson managed tocollect fifties and sixties on wickets that completely upset men whowere, apparently, finer players. On days when the Olympians of thecricket world were bringing their averages down with ducks andsingles, Joe would be in his element, watching the ball and pushing itthrough the slips as if there were no such thing as a tricky wicket.And Mike took after Joe.
A single off the fifth ball of the over opened his score and broughthim to the opposite end. Bob played ball number six back to thebowler, and Mike took guard preparatory to facing de Freece.
The Ripton slow bowler took a long run, considering his pace. In theearly part of an innings he often trapped the batsmen in this way, byleading them to expect a faster ball than he actually sent down. Aqueer little jump in the middle of the run increased the difficulty ofwatching him.
The smiting he had received from Burgess in the previous over had nothad the effect of knocking de Freece off his length. The ball was tooshort to reach with comfort, and not short enough to take libertieswith. It pitched slightly to leg, and whipped in quickly. Mike hadfaced half-left, and stepped back. The increased speed of the ballafter it had touched the ground beat him. The ball hit his right pad.
"'S that?" shouted mid-on. Mid-on has a habit of appealing forl.-b.-w. in school matches.
De Freece said nothing. The Ripton bowler was as conscientious in thematter of appeals as a good bowler should be. He had seen that theball had pitched off the leg-stump.
The umpire shook his head. Mid-on tried to look as if he had notspoken.
Mike prepared himself for the next ball with a glow of confidence. Hefelt that he knew where he was now. Till then he had not thought thewicket was so fast. The two balls he had played at the other end hadtold him nothing. They had been well pitched up, and he had smotheredthem. He knew what to do now. He had played on wickets of this pace athome against Saunders's bowling, and Saunders had shown him the rightway to cope with them.
The next ball was of the same length, but this time off the off-stump.Mike jumped out, and hit it before it had time to break. It flew alongthe ground through the gap between cover and extra-cover, acomfortable three.
Bob played out the over with elaborate care.
Off the second ball of the other man's over Mike scored his firstboundary. It was a long-hop on the off. He banged it behind point tothe terrace-bank. The last ball of the over, a half-volley to leg, helifted over the other boundary.
"Sixty up," said Ellerby, in the pavilion, as the umpire signalledanother no-ball. "By George! I believe these chaps are going to knockoff the runs. Young Jackson looks as if he was in for a century."
"You ass," said Berridge. "Don't say that, or he's certain to getout."
Berridge was one of those who are skilled in cricket superstitions.
But Mike did not get out. He took seven off de Freece's next over bymeans of two cuts and a drive. And, with Bob still exhibiting a stolidand rock-like defence, the score mounted to eighty, thence to ninety,and so, mainly by singles, to a hundred.
At a hundred and four, when the wicket had put on exactly fifty, Bobfell to a combination of de Freece and extra-cover. He had stuck likea limpet for an hour and a quarter, and made twenty-one.
Mike watched him go with much the same feelings as those of a man whoturns away from the platform after seeing a friend off on a longrailway journey. His departure upset the scheme of things. For himselfhe had no fear now. He might possibly get out off his next ball, buthe felt set enough to stay at the wickets till nightfall. He had hadnarrow escapes from de Freece, but he was full of that conviction,which comes to all batsmen on occasion, that this was his day. He hadmade twenty-six, and the wicket was getting easier. He could feel thesting going out of the bowling every over.
Henfrey, the next man in, was a promising rather than an effectivebat. He had an excellent style, but he was uncertain. (Two yearslater, when he captained the Wrykyn teams, he made a lot of runs.) Butthis season his batting had been spasmodic.
To-day he never looked like settling down. He survived an over from deFreece, and hit a fast change bowler who had been put on at the otherend for a couple of fluky fours. Then Mike got the bowling for threeconsecutive overs, and raised the score to a hundred and twenty-six. Abye brought Henfrey to the batting end again, and de Freece's petgoogly, which had not been much in evidence hitherto, led to hissnicking an easy catch into short-slip's hands.
A hundred and twenty-seven for seven against a total of a hundred andsixty-six gives the impression that the batting side has theadvantage. In the present case, however, it was Ripton who were reallyin the better position. Apparently, Wrykyn had three more wickets tofall. Practically they had only one, for neither Ashe, nor Grant, norDevenish had any pretensions to be considered batsmen. Ashe was theschool wicket-keeper. Grant and Devenish were bowlers. Between themthe three could not be relied on for a dozen in a decent match.
Mike watched Ashe shape with a sinking heart. The wicket-keeper lookedlike a man who feels that his hour has come. Mike could see himlicking his lips. There was nervousness written all over him.
He was not kept long in suspense. De Freece's first ball made ahideous wreck of his wicket.
"Over," said the umpire.
Mike felt that the school's one chance now lay in his keeping thebowling. But how was he to do this? It suddenly occurred to him thatit was a delicate position that he was in. It was not often that hewas troubled by an inconvenient modesty, but this happened now. Grantwas a fellow he hardly knew, and a school prefect to boot. Could he goup to him and explain that he, Jackson, did not consider him competentto bat in this crisis? Would not this get about and be accounted tohim for side? He had made forty, but even so....
Fortunately Grant solved the problem on his own account. He came up toMike and spoke with an earnestness born of nerves. "For goodnesssake," he whispered, "collar the bowling all you kno
w, or we're done.I shall get outed first ball."
"All right," said Mike, and set his teeth. Forty to win! A largeorder. But it was going to be done. His whole existence seemed toconcentrate itself on those forty runs.
The fast bowler, who was the last of several changes that had beentried at the other end, was well-meaning but erratic. The wicket wasalmost true again now, and it was possible to take liberties.
Mike took them.
A distant clapping from the pavilion, taken up a moment later allround the ground, and echoed by the Ripton fieldsmen, announced thathe had reached his fifty.
The last ball of the over he mishit. It rolled in the direction ofthird man.
"Come on," shouted Grant.
Mike and the ball arrived at the opposite wicket almostsimultaneously. Another fraction of a second, and he would have beenrun out.
MIKE AND THE BALL ARRIVED ALMOST SIMULTANEOUSLY]
The last balls of the next two overs provided repetitions of thisperformance. But each time luck was with him, and his bat was acrossthe crease before the bails were off. The telegraph-board showed ahundred and fifty.
The next over was doubly sensational. The original medium-paced bowlerhad gone on again in place of the fast man, and for the first fiveballs he could not find his length. During those five balls Mikeraised the score to a hundred and sixty.
But the sixth was of a different kind. Faster than the rest and of aperfect length, it all but got through Mike's defence. As it was, hestopped it. But he did not score. The umpire called "Over!" and therewas Grant at the batting end, with de Freece smiling pleasantly as hewalked back to begin his run with the comfortable reflection that atlast he had got somebody except Mike to bowl at.
That over was an experience Mike never forgot.
Grant pursued the Fabian policy of keeping his bat almost immovableand trusting to luck. Point and the slips crowded round. Mid-off andmid-on moved half-way down the pitch. Grant looked embarrassed, butdetermined. For four balls he baffled the attack, though once nearlycaught by point a yard from the wicket. The fifth curled round hisbat, and touched the off-stump. A bail fell silently to the ground.
Devenish came in to take the last ball of the over.
It was an awe-inspiring moment. A great stillness was over all theground. Mike's knees trembled. Devenish's face was a delicate grey.
The only person unmoved seemed to be de Freece. His smile was evenmore amiable than usual as he began his run.
The next moment the crisis was past. The ball hit the very centre ofDevenish's bat, and rolled back down the pitch.
The school broke into one great howl of joy. There were still sevenruns between them and victory, but nobody appeared to recognise thisfact as important. Mike had got the bowling, and the bowling was notde Freece's.
It seemed almost an anti-climax when a four to leg and two two'sthrough the slips settled the thing.
* * * * *
Devenish was caught and bowled in de Freece's next over; but theWrykyn total was one hundred and seventy-two.
* * * * *
"Good game," said Maclaine, meeting Burgess in the pavilion. "Who wasthe man who made all the runs? How many, by the way?"
"Eighty-three. It was young Jackson. Brother of the other one."
"That family! How many more of them are you going to have here?"
"He's the last. I say, rough luck on de Freece. He bowled rippingly."
Politeness to a beaten foe caused Burgess to change his usual "notbad."
"The funny part of it is," continued he, "that young Jackson was onlyplaying as a sub."
"You've got a rum idea of what's funny," said Maclaine.
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