The Willoughby Captains

by Talbot Baines Reed

  Chapter Eighteen

  The new Captain turned Welcher

  Riddell, who probably felt the sting of the boat-race mishap more sensitively than any boy in Willoughby, was pacing the playground in a dispirited mood a morning or two after, when Dr Patrick suddenly confronted him.

  “Ah, Riddell,” said the latter, cheerily, “I’m glad I have met you. I want to have a talk. Let me see,” said he, pulling out his watch, “there’s hardly time now, though. Will you come and have tea with me this evening?”

  Riddell turned pale at the bare suggestion, and would probably have invented some wild excuse to get off the dreaded honour had not the doctor continued, “I’m sorry Mrs Patrick and her sister are from home; they take a great interest in you, I can assure you.”

  “Oh, not at all,” cried Riddell, whom the bare mention of those ladies’ names was sufficient to confuse hopelessly.

  “Come at seven o’clock, will you?” said the doctor, pleasantly, not noticing his head boy’s perturbation.

  Riddell continued his walk in a state of considerable perplexity. For some moments he could not get beyond the fact that Mrs Patrick and Miss Stringer were from home, and the relief of that reflection was unspeakable. But what could the doctor want him for? Was it to tell him he did not consider him equal to the duties of captain, and to relieve him of his office? Riddell devoutly wished it might be so. And yet he hardly fancied from the head master’s manner this was to be the subject of their interview.

  Perhaps it was to cross-examine him as to the boat-race. That wretched boat-race! Riddell had hardly had a minute’s peace since that afternoon. The burden of the whole affair seemed to rest upon him. The taunts of the disappointed Parretts, which glanced harmless off minds like Fairbairn’s and Porter’s, wounded him to the quick, and, until the mystery should be solved, Riddell felt almost like a guilty party himself. He rather hoped the doctor did want to talk about this. It would be a relief to unburden his mind, at any rate. But even these troubles were slight compared with Riddell’s concern about his old friend’s brother. In spite of all his efforts young Wyndham was going wrong. He was getting more irregular in his visits to Riddell’s study, and when he did come he was more reserved and secret, and less inclined to confide in his friend than before. It was easy to guess the reason, and Riddell felt baffled and dispirited as he thought about it. To save young Wyndham from his bad friends would be worth to him more even than to secure the order of Willoughby, or to discover the perpetrator of the boat-race outrage.

  In this troubled state of mind Riddell passed the day till the time arrived for him to present himself at the doctor’s.

  He entered warily and suspiciously, as though not quite sure whether, after all, the two ladies might be lying in ambush somewhere for him. But no, there was no deception, only the doctor was there, and he, unrestrained by the presence of his usual bodyguard, was most friendly and cordial.

  “Ah, Riddell, glad to see you. Sit down. You find me a bachelor, you see, for once in a way.”

  Riddell was soon at his ease. The doctor chatted pleasantly over their tea about various Willoughby topics, giving his opinion on some and asking the captain’s opinion on others, and so delicately showing his sympathy for the boy in his difficulties and his approval of his efforts for the good of the school, that Riddell was quite won over, and prepared for the serious matter which the doctor presently broached. “Yes,” said the latter, in reply to some reference by Riddell to the Welchers. “Yes, I am a good deal concerned about Welch’s house, Riddell. I dare say you can understand why.”

  “I think so, sir. They don’t seem to pull together there somehow, or have the sympathy with the good of the school.”

  “Precisely. That’s just what it is,” said the doctor, delighted to find his head boy so exactly understanding the nature of the house over which he was to be installed. “They seem to be ‘each man for himself, and none for the State,’ I fear.”

  “I think so,” said Riddell. “They hold aloof from most of the school doings, unless there’s a chance of a row. They had no boat on the river this year, and I don’t think they will have a man in the eleven against Rockshire. And they seem to have no ambition to work for the school.”

  The doctor mused a bit, and then said, with a half-sigh, as if to himself, “And I wish that were the worst of it.” Then turning to Riddell, he said, “I am glad to hear your opinion of Welch’s house, Riddell, and to find that you seem to understand what is wrong there. What should you say to taking charge of that house in future?”

  This was breaking the news suddenly, with a vengeance, and Riddell fairly gaped at the head master as he sat back in his chair, and wondered if he had heard aright.

  “What, sir!” at length he gasped; “I take charge of Welch’s!”

  “Yes, my boy,” said the doctor, quietly.

  “Oh, I could never do it, sir!” exclaimed Riddell, pale at the very notion.

  “Try,” said the head master. “It may not be so impossible as you think.”

  “I’m not popular, sir,” faltered Riddell, “and I’ve no influence. Indeed, it would only make things worse. Try some one else, sir. Try Fairbairn.”

  “I shall want Fairbairn to be the head of the schoolhouse,” said the doctor.

  “I’m sure it would be a mistake, sir,” repeated Riddell. “If there was any chance of my succeeding I would try, but—”

  “But,” said the doctor, “you have not tried. Listen, Riddell; I know I am not inviting you to a bed of roses. It is a come-down, I know, for the captain of the school and the head of the schoolhouse to go down to Welch’s, especially such a Welch’s as ours is at present. But the post of danger, you know, is the post of honour. I leave it to you. You need not go unless you wish. I shall not think worse of you if you conscientiously feel you should not go. Think it over. Count all the cost. You have already made a position for yourself in the schoolhouse. You will have to quit that, of course, and start afresh and single-handed in the new house, and it is not likely that those who defy the rules of the school will take at first to a fellow who comes to enforce them. Think it all over, I say, and decide with open eyes.”

  The doctor’s words had a strange inspiriting effect on this shy and diffident boy. The recital of all the difficulties in the way was the most powerful argument to a nature like his, and when at length the doctor wished him good-night and told him to take till the following day to decide, Riddell was already growing accustomed to the prospect of his new duty.

  For all that, the day that ensued was anxious and troubled. Not so much on account of Welch’s. On that point his mind was pretty nearly made up. It seemed a call of duty, and therefore it was a call of honour, which Riddell dare not disobey. But to leave the schoolhouse just now, when it lay under the reproach caused by the boat-race accident; and worse still, to leave it just when young Wyndham seemed to be drifting from his moorings and yielding with less and less effort to the temptations of bad companions — these were troubles compared with which the perils and difficulties of his new task were but light.

  For a long time that night Riddell sat in his study and pondered over the doctor’s offer, and looked at it in all its aspects, and counted up all the cost.

  Then like a wise man he took counsel of a Friend. Ah! you say, he talked it over with Fairbairn, or Porter, or the acute Crossfield — or, perhaps, he wrote a letter to old Wyndham? No, reader, Riddell had a Friend at Willoughby dearer even than old Wyndham, and nearer than Fairbairn, or Porter, or Crossfield, and that night when all the school was asleep, little dreaming what its captain did, he went to that Friend and told Him all his difficulties about Welch’s, and his anxieties about young Wyndham, and even his unhappiness about the boat-race; and in doing so found himself wonderfully cheered and ready to face the new duty, and even hopeful of success.

  Next morning he went to the doctor and told him he was ready to enter on his new duties. Dr Patrick was not the man to flatter his head boy or to in
spire him with undue hopes; but he was undoubtedly gratified by the decision, and Riddell felt encouraged in the consciousness of his sympathy.

  At call-over that evening the Welchers had the pleasure of being informed by the doctor of the new arrangements proposed for their welfare, and, it need hardly be said, were considerably moved thereby.

  At first they were disposed to regard the affair as a joke and a capital piece of fun. But when that evening Riddell put in an appearance at supper, in their house, and when Telson was intercepted bringing over his late master’s goods and chattels to the study next but one to that of Silk, they began to take the matter in rather more seriously.

  For the first time for a long while Welch’s house seemed to be of one mind — a mind made up of equal mixtures of resentment and amazement and amusement. Probably, had they been more accustomed to thinking together, they would have summoned a monster meeting, as Parrett’s would have done, to discuss the situation. As it was, they resolved themselves into several small groups, each of which dealt with the topic of the hour in its own way.

  The juniors of course had a good deal to say on the subject. Pilbury, Cusack, Philpot, Morgan, and a few other kindred spirits held a council of war in the study of the two former immediately after supper.

  “Rum start this, eh, Pil!” said Cusack, by way of opening proceedings.

  “You know,” said Pil, confidentially, “I’m not surprised. He made such a regular mess of it in the schoolhouse.”

  “Don’t know what’s the good of his coming here, then,” said Philpot; “our fellows aren’t a bit quieter than the schoolhouse.”

  No one was bold enough to dispute this peculiarly modest description of the order of Welch’s house.

  “I wonder if he’s been kicked out of the captaincy as well?” asked Cusack, who was apparently convinced in his own mind that the new move was a degradation for Riddell.

  “I don’t know,” said Morgan; “Paddy said something about it being a good thing for us to get the captain of the school as head of our house.”

  “Oh, ah — a jolly good thing,” said Pilbury; “jolly lookout for us if he’s stuck here to pull us up whenever we have a lark.”

  “Bless you, he can’t pull a fellow up!” said somebody. “They said he used to now and then in the schoolhouse.”

  “Not he. He’s afraid to look at a chap.”

  “I say,” said Cusack, “rather a spree to fetch him, eh, you fellows, and see how he does. Eh?”

  “I’m game,” said Pilbury; “what shall we do? Smash in his study-door?”

  “Oh, no,” said Cusack, “no use doing that. Let’s give him ‘Bouncer’ to start with.”

  “That ought to startle him up,” said Philpot, laughing, “if he’s not used to it.”

  “Rather — open the door a bit, Morgan. Now, you fellows, are you all game? All together.”

  And with that the party struck up at the top of their voices the famous old Willoughby chorus, of which the first verse runs as follows:

  “Oh, Bouncer was a Willoughby chap, sir,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!

  Upon his head he wore his cap, sir,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!

  Below his cap he wore his head,

  His eyes were black and his hair was red,

  And he carried his bat for a cool hundred,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!”

  This poetic record of the virtues and accomplishments of their legendary school hero gave ample scope, as the reader may surmise, for spirited declamation; and on the present occasion more Welchers than Riddell were startled by the sudden and vehement outburst of the patriotic hymn. Indeed, as it appeared to be a point of honour with the vocalists to pitch no two voices in the same key, the effect was even alarming, and suggested the sudden letting loose of a menagerie.

  The singers waited meekly for a few seconds to see whether their efforts had met with the success they deserved. But as a dead silence reigned, and no one came, they considerately determined to give their audience another chance; and therefore launched forthwith into the second verse, which was delivered with even more dramatic power than the first:

  “Old Bouncer stood six foot and an inch, sir,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!

  And four foot round his chest was a pinch, sir,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!

  Twelve stone two was his fighting weight,

  And he stroked our boat for the champion plate,

  And ran his mile in four thirty-eight,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!”

  This time the heroic efforts of the melodious juniors had their reward. Before the last line was reached the door of the new captain’s study opened, and Riddell appeared in the passage. His first appearance in his new capacity was naturally a matter of curiosity on every hand; and as he approached the scene of the noise he became aware that almost every occupant of the passage was standing at his door, watching curiously for what was to happen.

  He certainly did not look, as he walked nervously down the corridor, the sort of fellow to quell a riot; and any one might have prophesied that he was not likely to come off any better now than he did when he once went on a similar errand to the stronghold of the Limpets.

  And yet the weeks that had elapsed since then had not been thrown away on Riddell. Would the reader like to hear what his thoughts were as he neared the scene of his trial?

  “What had I better do? If I get in a rage I shall only make a fool of myself; if I report them to the doctor I shall be shirking my own work; if I remonstrate mildly and do no more, my chances in Welch’s are done for, and these fellows who are on the lookout for my failure will get their crow. I must get on the right side of these youngsters if I can, so here goes!”

  With this reflection he reached the door just as the third verse of “Bouncer” commenced, the performers having carefully turned their backs so as to appear wholly unconscious of a visitor. Verse three referred altogether to the intellectual attainments of the wonderful Bouncer.

  “Bouncer was the cock of the school, sir,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!

  And Socrates to him was a fool, sir,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!

  He could cross the ‘asses’ bridge in the dark,

  And ‘Hic Haec Hoc’ he thought a lark.

  And swallowed irregular verbs like a shark,

  Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!”

  Before this spirit-stirring recital had reached its climax one or two of the performers had found it impossible to resist a look round to see how the captain took it. So that the “surprise” at finding him standing there at its conclusion fell rather flat.

  Much to the disappointment of the spectators outside, moreover, Riddell shut the door behind him. The juniors eyed him curiously. Contrary to their expectation, he neither looked frightened nor confused, but his face was as cheery as his voice as he said, “You see, I couldn’t resist your beautiful music.”

  Was he in jest or earnest? Did he really mean he had enjoyed the chorus, or was he poking fun at them? They could not quite tell.

  “Oh,” said Cusack, not quite as defiantly, however, as he could have wished, “that’s a song we sing among ourselves, isn’t it, you fellows?”

  “Ah!” said Riddell, before “the fellows” could chime in, “it’s good fun belonging to a musical set — especially for songs like this, that appear to have several tunes all sung at once! You should give a concert.”

  The boys looked more perplexed than ever. It sounded like chaff, and yet they could scarcely believe it was. So they smiled vacantly at one another, and began to feel the situation a little awkward.

  “I suppose,” continued Riddell, feeling his way carefully—“I suppose between nine and ten is the usual time for singing in Welch’s? I fancied it was before supper!”

  “Oh!” said Pilbury, “we do as we like here.”

  “Do you, really?” replied the captain. “How jolly that mus
t be!”

  Cusack and Pilbury could hardly tell why they laughed at this very innocent observation, but they did, and Riddell was quick enough to see his advantage.

  “You know, I’d be very sorry to interfere with the beautiful music,” he said; “but do you think you could get to like not to sing after supper?”

  The boys stared as if they were not quite sure yet how to take it. However, the captain made himself clear without further delay. “The fact is,” said he, a trifle nervously, but in his friendliest tones—“the fact is — I don’t know what you think, but I’d be awfully glad if you fellows would back me up for a week or two in Welch’s. Of course, you know, the doctor’s put me here, and I don’t suppose you’re much alarmed by the move, eh? You needn’t be.”

  “We aren’t,” said Morgan, in a decidedly mild attempt at heroism.

  “I’m glad of that,” said the captain; whereat the rest of the company laughed at the unlucky Morgan, who had quite expected the joke to go the other way. “You know,” continued Riddell, sitting upon the table and talking as familiarly as though he were in his own study, “I’d rather like if among us we could pull Welch’s up a bit before the end of the term. It seems rather a shame, for instance, we didn’t have a boat on the river these races, and that there’s not a single Welcher in the first eleven.”

  “It’s a beastly shame!” said Philpot. “Bloomfield’s down on us, you know; he’s got a spite against us.”

  “Oh! I don’t know,” said Riddell. “I fancy if we’d got some good enough men he’d be only too glad to put them in. After all, the glory of the school is the chief thing.”

  “Tucker and Silk will never practise,” said Cusack. “I know I would if I’d got the chance.”

  “Well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t start the House Cricket Club this year, at any rate,” said Riddell.

  “That’s just what Tucker and Silk won’t do. We wanted them to do it, didn’t we, Pil?”