The Interpreter: A Tale of the War Page 10

  CHAPTER VII

  PLAY

  Dinner was over, and play-time begun for all but me, and again I turnedto the _infandum Regina jubes_, and sat me down to cry.

  A kind hand, grimed with ink, was laid on my shoulder, a pair of softblue eyes looked into my face, and Victor de Rohan, my formerplayfellow, my present fast friend and declared "chum," sat down on theform beside me, and endeavoured to console me in distress.

  "I'll help you, Egerton," said the warm-hearted lad; "say it to me;March is a beast, but Manners is a good fellow; Manners will hear younow, and we shall have our half-holiday after all."

  "I can't, I can't," was my desponding reply. "Manners won't hear me, Iknow, till I am perfect, and I never can learn this stupid sing-songstory. How I hate Queen Dido--how I hate Virgil. You should read aboutGuenever, Victor, and King Arthur! I'll tell you about them thisafternoon;" and the tears came again into my eyes as I remembered therewas no afternoon for me.

  "Try once more," said Victor; "I'll get Manners to hear you; leave it tome; I know how to do it. I'll ask Ropsley." And Victor was off intothe playground ere I was aware, in search of this valuable auxiliary.

  Now, Ropsley was the mainspring round which turned the whole of ourlittle world at Everdon. If an excuse for a holiday could be found,Ropsley was entreated to ask the desired favour of March. If a quarrelhad to be adjusted, either in the usual course of ordeal by battle, orthe less decisive method of arbitration, Ropsley was always invited tosee fair play. He was the king of our little community. It waswhispered that he could spar better than Manners, and construe betterthan March: he was certainly a more perfect linguist--as indeed I couldvouch for from my own knowledge--than Schwartz, who came twice a week toteach us a rich German-French. We saw his boots were made by Hoby, andwe felt his coats could only be the work of Stulz, for in those daysPoole was not, and we were perfectly willing to believe that he wore ascarlet hunting-coat in the Christmas holidays, and had visiting cardsof his own. In person he was tall and slim, with a pale complexion, andwaving, soft brown hair: without being handsome, he wasdistinguished-looking; and even as a boy, I have seen strangers turnround and ask who he was; but the peculiar feature of his countenancewas his light grey eye, veiled with long black eyelashes. It neverseemed to kindle or to waver or to wink; it was always the same, hard,penetrating, and unmoved; it never smiled, though the rest of hisfeatures would laugh heartily enough, and it certainly never wept. Evenin boyhood it was the eye of a cool, calculating, wary man. He knew thesecrets of every boy in the school, but no one ever dreamt ofcross-questioning Ropsley. We believed he only stayed at Everdon as afavour to March, who was immensely proud of his pupil's gentlemanlikemanners and appearance, as well as of his scholarly proficiency,although no one ever saw him study, and we always expected Ropsley was"going to leave this half." We should not have been the least surprisedto hear he had been sent for by the Sovereign, and created a peer of therealm on the spot; with all our various opinions, we were unanimous inone creed--that nothing was impossible for Ropsley, and he need onlytry, to succeed. For myself, I was dreadfully afraid of this luminary,and looked up to him with feelings of veneration which amounted topositive awe.

  Not so Victor; the young Hungarian feared, I believe, nothing on earth,and _respected_ but little. He was the only boy in the school who,despite the difference of age, would talk with Ropsley upon equal terms;and if anything could have added to the admiration with which weregarded the latter, it would have been the accurate knowledge hedisplayed of De Rohan's family, their history, their place in Hungary,all their belongings, as if he himself had been familiar with Edeldorffrom boyhood. But so it was with everything; Ropsley knew all aboutpeople in general better than they did themselves.

  Victor rushed back triumphantly into the schoolroom, where I still satdesponding at my desk, and Ropsley followed him.

  "What's the matter, Vere?" he asked, in a patronising tone, and callingme by my Christian name, which I esteemed a great compliment. "What'sthe matter?" he repeated; "forty lines of Virgil to say; come, that'snot much."

  "But I _can't_ learn it," I urged. "You must think me very stupid; andif it was French, or German, or English, I should not mind twice thequantity, but I cannot learn Latin, and it's no use trying."

  The older boy sneered; it seemed so easy to him with his powerful mindto get forty lines of hexameters by heart. I believe he could haverepeated the whole _AEneid_ without book from beginning to end.

  "Do you want to go out to-day, Vere?" said he.

  I clasped my hands in supplication, as I replied, "Oh! I would giveanything, _anything_, to get away from this horrid schoolroom, and'shirk out' with Victor and Bold."

  The latter, be it observed, was a dog in whose society I took greatdelight, and whom I kept in the village, at an outlay of one shillingper week, much to the detriment of my personal fortune.

  "Very well," said the great man; "come with me to Manners, and bringyour book with you."

  So I followed my deliverer into the playground, with the _infandumRegina_ still weighing heavily on my soul.

  Manners, the usher, was playing cricket with some dozen of the biggerboys, and was in the act of "going for a sixer." His coat and waistcoatwere off, and his shirt-sleeves tucked up, disclosing his manly armsbared to the elbow; and Manners was in his glory, for, notwithstandingthe beard upon his chin, our usher was as very a boy at heart as theyoungest urchin in the lower class. A dandy, too, was Manners, and awight of an imaginative turn of mind, which chiefly developed itself inthe harmless form of bright visions for the future, teeming withromantic adventures, of which he was himself to be the hero. His pasthe seldom dwelt upon. His aspirations were military--his ideasextravagant. He was great on the Peninsula and Lord Anglesey atWaterloo; and had patent boxes in his high-heeled boots that onlyrequired the addition of heavy clanking spurs to complete the illusionthat Mr. Manners ought to be a cavalry officer. Of his riding he spokelargely; but his proficiency in this exercise we had no means ofascertaining. There were two things, however, on which Manners pridedhimself, and which were a source of intense amusement to the urchins bywhom he was surrounded:--these were, his personal strength, and hiswhiskers; the former quality was encouraged to develop itself by earnestapplication to all manly sports and exercises; the latter ornaments werecultivated and enriched with every description of "nutrifier,""regenerator," and "unguent" known to the hairdresser or the advertiser.Alas! without effect proportioned to the perseverance displayed; twosmall patches of fluff under the jaw-bones, that showed to greatestadvantage by candlelight, being the only evidence of so much painstakingand cultivation thrown away. Of his muscular prowess, however, itbehoved us to speak with reverence. Was it not on record in the annalsof the school that when the "King of Naples," our dissipated pieman,endeavoured to justify by force an act of dishonesty by which he haddone Timmins minor out of half-a-crown, Manners stripped at once to hisshirt-sleeves, and "went in" at the Monarch with all the vigour andactivity of some three-and-twenty summers against three-score? TheMonarch, a truculent old ruffian, with a red neckcloth, half-boots, andone eye, fought gallantly for a few rounds, and was rather getting thebest of it, when, somewhat unaccountably, he gave in, leaving the ushermaster of the field. Ropsley, who gave his friend a knee, _secundumartem_, and urged him, with frequent injunctions, to "fight high,"attributed this easy victory to the forbearance of their antagonist, whohad an eye to future trade and mercantile profits; but Manners, whoseaccount of the battle I have heard more than once, always scouted thisview of the transaction.

  "He went down, sir, as if he was shot," he would say, doubling his arm,and showing the muscles standing out in bold relief. "Few men have thebiceps so well developed as mine, and he went down _as if he was shot_.If I had hit him as hard as I could, sir, I _must_ have killed him!"

  Our usher was a good-natured fellow, notwithstanding.

  "I'll hear you i
n ten minutes, Egerton," said he, "when I have had myinnings;" and forthwith he stretched himself into attitude, and preparedto strike.

  "Better give me your bat," remarked Ropsley, who was too lazy to playcricket in a regular manner. Of course, Manners consented; nobody everrefused Ropsley anything; and in ten minutes' time I had repeated the_infandum Regina_, and Ropsley had added some dozen masterly hits to theusher's score. Ropsley always liked another man's "innings" better thanhis own.

  Now the regulations at Everdon, as they were excessively strict, andbased upon the principle that Apollo should always keep the bow at theutmost degree of tension, so were they eluded upon every availableopportunity, and set at nought and laughed at by the youngest urchins inthe school. We had an ample playground for our minor sports, and ameadow beyond, in which we were permitted to follow the exhilaratingpastime of cricket, the share of the younger boys in that excitingamusement being limited to a pursuit of the ball round the field, and aprompt return of the same to their seniors, doubtless a necessaryingredient in this noble game, but one which is not calculated to exciteenthusiastic pleasure in the youthful mind. From the playground and itsadjacent meadow it was a capital offence to absent oneself. All therest of Somersetshire was "out of bounds"; and to be caught "out ofbounds" was a crime for which corporal punishment was the invariablereward. At the same time, the offence was, so to speak, "winked at."No inquiries were made as to how we spent half-holidays between oneo'clock and seven; and many a glorious ramble we used to have duringthose precious six hours in all the ecstasy of "freedom,"--a wordunderstood by none better than the schoolboy. A certain deference was,however, exacted to the regulations of the establishment; by a sort oftacit compact, it seemed to be understood that our code was so farSpartan as to make, not the crime, but the being "found out," apunishable offence, and boys were always supposed to take their chance.If seen in the act of escaping, or afterwards met by any of the mastersin the surrounding country, we were liable to be flogged; and to doMarch justice, we always _were_ flogged, and pretty soundly, too. Underthese circumstances, some little care and circumspection had to beobserved in starting for our rambles. Certain steps had been made inthe playground wall, where it was hidden from the house by the stem of afine old elm, and by dropping quietly down into an orchard beyond--anorchard, be it observed, of which the fruit was always plucked before itreached maturity--and then stealing along the back of a thick, highhedge, we could get fairly away out of sight of the school windows, andso make our escape.

  Now, on the afternoon in question we had planned an expedition in whichVictor, and I, and my dog Bold had determined to be principalperformers. Of the latter personage in the trio I must remark, that noparty of pleasure on which we embarked was ever supposed to be perfectwithout his society. His original possessor was the "King of Naples,"whom I have already mentioned, and who, I conclude, stole him, as heappeared one day tied to that personage by an old cotton handkerchief,and looking as wobegone and unhappy as a retriever puppy of some threemonths old, torn from his mamma and his brothers and sisters, and thecomfortable kennel in which he was brought up, and transferred to thetender mercies of a drunken, poaching, dog-stealing ruffian, was likelyto feel in so false a position. The "King" brought him into ourplayground on one of his tart-selling visits, as a specimen of therarest breed of retrievers known in the West of England. The puppyseemed so thoroughly miserable, and looked up at me so piteously, that Iforthwith asked his price, and after a deal of haggling, and aconsultation between De Rohan and myself, I determined to become hispurchaser, at the munificent sum of one sovereign, of which tenshillings (my all) were to be paid on the spot, and the other ten toremain, so to speak, on mortgage upon the animal, with the furtherunderstanding that he should be kept at the residence of the "King ofNaples," who, in consideration of the regular payment of one shillingper week, bound himself to feed the same and complete his education inall the canine branches of plunging, diving, fetching and carrying, on asystem of his own, which he briefly described as "fust-rate."

  With a deal of prompting from Manners, I got through my forty lines; andhe shut the book with a good-natured smile as Ropsley threw down the bathe had been wielding so skilfully, and put on his coat.

  "Come and lunch with me at 'The Club,'" said he to Manners, whom he ledcompletely by the nose; "I'll give you Dutch cheese, and sherry andsoda-water, and a cigar. Hie! Vere, you ungrateful little ruffian,where are you off to? I want you."

  I was making my escape as rapidly as possible at the mention of "TheClub," a word which we younger boys held in utter fear and detestation,as being associated in our minds with much perilous enterprise andgratuitous suffering. The Club consisted of an old bent tree in aretired corner of the playground, on the trunk of which Ropsley hadcaused a comfortable seat to be fashioned for his own delectation; andhere, in company with Manners and two or three senior boys, it was hiscustom to sit smoking and drinking curious compounds, of which theingredients, being contraband, had to be fetched by us, at the risk ofcorporal punishment, from the village of Everdon, an honest half-milejourney at the least.

  Ropsley tendered a large cigar to Manners, lit one himself, settled hislong limbs comfortably on the seat, and gave me his orders.

  "One Dutch cheese, three pottles of strawberries--now attend, confoundyou!--two bottles of old sherry from 'The Greyhound,'--mind, the OLDsherry; half-a-dozen of soda-water, and a couple of pork-pies. Put thewhole into a basket; they'll give you one at the bar, if you say it'sfor me, and tell them to put it down to my account. Put a clean napkinover the basket, and if you dirty the napkin or break the bottles, I'llbreak _your_ head! Now be off! Manners, I'll take your two to one hedoes it without a mistake, and is back here under the five-and-twentyminutes."

  I did not dare disobey, but I was horribly disgusted at having to employany portion of my half-holiday in so uncongenial a manner. I rushedback into the schoolroom for my cap, and held a hurried consultationwith Victor as to our future proceedings.

  "He only got you off because he wanted you to 'shirk out' for him,"exclaimed my indignant chum; "it's a shame, _that_ it is. Don't go forhim, Vere; let's get out quietly, and be off to Beverley. It's the lastchance, so old 'Nap' says" (this was an abbreviation for the "King ofNaples," who was in truth a great authority both with Victor andmyself); "and it's _such_ a beautiful afternoon."

  "But what a licking I shall get from Ropsley," I interposed, withconsiderable misgivings; "he's sure to say I'm an ungrateful littlebeast. I don't like to be called ungrateful, Victor, and I don't liketo be called a little beast."

  "Oh, never mind the names, and a licking is soon over," replied Victor,who learned little from his _Horace_ save the _carpe diem_ philosophy,and who looked upon the licking with considerably more resignation thandid the probable recipient. "We shall just have time to do it, if westart now. Come on, old fellow; be plucky for once, and come on."

  I was not proof against the temptation. The project was a long-plannedone, and I could not bear the thoughts of giving it up now. Many a timein our rambles had we surmounted the hill that looked down upon BeverleyManor, and viewed it from afar as a sort of unknown fairyland. What agolden time one's boyhood was! A day at Beverley was our dream of allthat was most exciting in adventure, most voluptuous in delight; and now"Nap" had promised to accompany us to this earthly Paradise, and show uswhat he was pleased to term its "hins-an'-houts." Not all the cheesesof Holland should prevent my having one day's liberty and enjoyment. Iweighed well the price: the certain licking, and the sarcastic abusewhich I feared even more; and I think I held my half-holiday all thedearer for having to purchase it at such a cost.

  We were across the playground like lapwings. Ropsley, who was deep inhis cigar and a copy of _Bell's Life_, which forbidden paper he causedManners to take in for him surreptitiously, never dreamed that hisbehests could be treated with contempt, and hardly turned his head tolook at us. We surmounted the wall with an agility born of repeatedpractice; we sto
le along the adjacent orchard, under covert of thewell-known friendly hedge, and only breathed freely when we foundourselves completely out of sight of the house, and swinging along theEverdon lane at a schoolboy's jog, which, like the Highlander's, isequivalent to any other person's gallop. No pair of carriage horses canstep together like two schoolboy "chums" who are in the constant habitof being late in company. Little boys as we were, Victor and I could doour five miles in the hour without much difficulty, keeping step likeclockwork, and talking the whole time.

  In five minutes we were at the wicket of a small tumble-down building,with dilapidated windows and a ruinous thatched roof, which was in factthe dwelling of no less a personage than the "King of Naples," but wasseldom alluded to by that worthy in more definite terms than "the oldplace," or "my shop"; and this only when in a particularly confidentialmood--its existence being usually indicated by a jerk of the headtowards his blind side, which was supposed to infer proper caution, anda decorous respect for the sanctity of private life. It was indeed oneof those edifices of which the word "tenement" seems alone to convey anadequate description. The garden produce consisted of a ragged shirtand a darned pair of worsted stockings, whilst a venerable buck rabbitlooked solemnly out from a hutch on one side of the doorway, and a pairof red-eyed ferrets shed their fragrance from a rough deal box on theother. "Nap" himself was not to be seen on a visitor's first entranceinto his habitation, but generally appeared after a mysterious delay,from certain back settlements, of which one never discovered the exact"whereabout." A grimy old woman, with her skirts pinned up, wasinvariably washing the staircase when we called, and it was only inobedience to her summons that "Nap" himself could be brought forward.This dame possessed a superstitious interest in the eyes of us boys, onaccount of the mysterious relationship in which she stood to "Nap." Healways addressed her as "mother"--but no boy at Everdon had yetascertained whether this was a generic term significant of age and sex,an appellation of endearment to a spouse, or a tribute of filialreverence from a son.

  "Come, 'Nap,' look alive," halloed Victor, as we rushed up the narrowpath that led from the wicket to the door, in breathless haste not tolose the precious moments of our half-holiday. "Now, mother, where ishe?" added the lively young truant. "Time's up; 'Nap'--'Nap'!"--and thewalls echoed to Victor's rich, laughing voice, and half-foreign accent.As usual, after an interval of a few minutes, "Nap" himself appeared atthe back door of the cottage, with a pair of greased half-boots in onehand, and a ferret, that nestled confidingly against his cheek, in theother.

  "Sarvice, young gen'elmen," said "Nap," wiping his mouth with the backof his hand--"Sarvice, my lord; sarvice, Muster Egerton," repeated he,on recognising his two stanchest patrons. "Here, Bold! Bold!--you doknow your master, sure*lie*," as Bold came rollicking forth from theback-yard in which he lived, and testified his delight by many ungainlygambols and puppy-like freedoms, which were responded to as warmly byhis delighted owner. My scale of affections at this period of life waseasily defined. I loved three objects in the world--viz., my father,Victor, and Bold. I verily believe I cared for nothing on earth butthose three; and certainly my dog came in for his share of regard.Bold, although in all the awkwardness of puppyhood, was alreadybeginning to show symptoms of that sagacity which afterwards developeditself into something very few degrees inferior to reason, if indeed itpartook not of that faculty which we men are anxious to assume as solelyour own. He would already obey the slightest sign--would come to heelat a whisper from his owner or instructor--would drag up huge stones outof ten feet of water, with ludicrous energy and perseverance; and standwaiting for further orders with his head on one side, and an expressionof comic intelligence on his handsome countenance that was delightfullyridiculous. He promised to be of great size and strength; and even atthis period, when he put his forepaws on my shoulders and licked myface, he was considerably the larger animal of the two. Suchfamiliarities, however, were much discouraged by "Nap."

  "If so be as you would keep a 'dawg,' real sporting and dawg-like,master," that philosopher would observe, "let un know his distance; Istrikes 'em whenever I can reach 'em. Fondlin' of 'em only spiles'em--same as women."