TOM TOPOVER FINDS HIMSELF IGNORED.
On the first day of the new term, Captain Gildrock made his usual speech
of welcome and explanation. Just one-half of the school were new
scholars, and it took a week to get them properly classified. Nearly
one-third of the number were "hard boys;" though six of them had been
disciplined for two weeks, on board of the steamer. But the new pupils
had not learned their duties in the schoolroom.
Tom Topover had come to that part of the programme of the institution,
where he expected to recover his lost prestige as a leader of his gang.
Study had always been an abomination to him; and he supposed it was to
his companions, the original Topovers. For himself, he refused to make
any effort to apply himself; and, when called upon for a recitation, he
was entirely unprepared. He thought he could get the better of his
teachers and the principal in this department.
Mr. Darlingby sent him to his room to learn his lesson when he failed.
Tom laughed in his sleeve, at this sort of discipline. He stretched
himself on the bed, and went to sleep. At dinner-time his meal consisted
of nothing but bread and butter, and cold water. Tom did not touch it;
for he was disgusted with such food, after the good living he had so
greatly enjoyed since he came to the school.
Kidd Digfield and the others did the best they could with their lessons,
and were subjected to no discipline on account of them. They had been to
the grammar school, and were fair scholars in the ordinary branches. No
difficult tasks were assigned to them, and they passed the forenoon with
infinitely better satisfaction to themselves than they had expected.
In the afternoon, when the students were assembled in the shops, they
all felt more at home. They were provided with tools, all in good order,
and required to make a box two feet long, a foot wide, and eight inches
deep. This was the work of all the new boys; and the use of the tools
was explained to them, precisely as it had been to all the classes who
had preceded them.
All of them, wherever they came from, took kindly to this lesson. It was
a new thing to most of them, even to those who had some little skill in
tinkering. Kidd Digfield declared at night, when the shopwork was
finished, that he had had a first-rate time. In fact, he and his
companions, with the exception of Tom, were fairly reconstructed. It was
nothing but fun to make a box, with such excellent tools as they were
provided with; and they laughed when they thought of the bungling work
they had done on the Thunderer.
After supper, there was still an hour and a half of daylight, and the
barges were manned with their new crews. One of them was assigned to the
new pupils for the first lessons, and Dory Dornwood was to act as
coxswain. But Captain Gildrock was in the Marian, with a crew of five of
the old boys; and he kept near enough to quell a rebellion if one should
break out. But this was fun for the boys; and they were instructed
according to the man-of-war rules, rather than those of the sporting
fraternity.
Tom Topover, from the grated window of his chamber, saw his companions
in the boats, and wished he were with them. It had not occurred to him
that he was to be deprived of his air and exercise, and be kept in his
room after the closing of the study-hours. He realized now, that he was
to be kept a prisoner in his room, on bread and water, until he learned
his lesson.
He had some mechanical taste; and he had looked forward, with something
like pleasure, to the time when he should be required to handle the
tools in the shop. Enough had been said among the boys in regard to this
part of their daily duties to inspire his ambition, and he expected to
distinguish himself in this department. On Saturday the ship's company
of the Sylph was to be organized, as it had been in the two preceding
years; but the lessons came first.
The supper of the prisoner was the same as his dinner had been. He was
so faint, that he ate his allowance, and drank the glass of water that
came with the food; but he did it with a rebellious soul. In the evening
he heard the voices of his companions about the dormitory. The excited
speech and the noisy laugh in the adjoining rooms, as his late
associates talked over the experiences of the day, indicated that they
were all happy. But no one went near him after he had eaten his supper.
As he listened to the sounds which came to him, he heard his friends say
that the bars had been removed from the windows of their rooms sometime
during the day.
In fact, Tom's three cronies were on precisely the same footing now as
even the older pupils of the school. They were not locked into their
rooms that night; for they had accepted the situation, and were doing
all that was required of them in a cheerful spirit. In the boat, Dory
Dornwood had instructed them in the use of the oars; but he had done it
so pleasantly and politely, that they could not find a word of fault
with him.
It was plain to Tom, that his friends had surrendered without
conditions; though they still said they were acting only from motives of
policy. It was no use, they continued to say, to buck their heads
against a stone wall. It was easier to do their duty than it was to
rebel, and take the consequences.
At about dark the rebellious chief heard the voices of his cronies in
the next room, which was Kidd Digfield's. The discipline had been
relaxed in their favor, for they had not before been allowed to visit
one another's rooms. They did not talk about him: he had not heard his
name mentioned by them. He felt very lonely, and very much hurt by the
want of loyalty to him on their part. He rapped several times on the
wall. It was more to see if they would notice his signal than for any
other reason.
Kidd knocked on the wall, in reply to the call. Tom asked him to come to
the door, and speak to him through the keyhole. Kidd replied that he
could not do it, they were forbidden to have any communication with him.
This he said loud enough to be heard by the prisoner. He did not care
who else heard him, though he suspected that Bates could not be far off.
The answer roused the anger of the bully, and he began to use some
strong language. Nim Splugger advised Kidd not to make any reply. This
increased Tom's wrath; and he called them traitors, so that his voice
could be heard half the length of the hall. Then, in his anger, he
resorted to kicking against the wall again. This soon brought Bates. The
door was unlocked; and, without a word of any kind, the old salt
collared him, and marched him to the brig. The furniture had not been
restored to its place, and he was left alone in the iron-bound cell.
To Tom Topover, the most galling feature of the discipline was in the
fact that no notice had been taken of him. Even his companions would
have no intercourse with him. He was shut up in the brig, and as fully
ignored as though he had been dead and buried. But he had decided not to
study his lessons, and he could not give up. He spent a miserable night
in the gloom of the dark prison. His breakfast was brought to him in the
morning, but it was the same as his dinner and his supper the day
before. Without a word of explanation, he was conducted back to his
chamber, and locked into it. The book he had brought from the schoolroom
was there.
All he had to do in order to end his term of imprisonment, was to learn
the lesson assigned to him. The book was a simple treatise on natural
philosophy. He was not required to commit any thing to memory, only to
read over the first half-dozen pages. It was simply a question of will.
He had refused even to look into the book. No one came near him during
the forenoon, and he hardly heard a sound. His slices of bread and
butter, and his glass of water, came to him at noon.
"How long have I got to stand this thing?" asked Tom, in a tone of utter
disgust, when Bates put his dinner on the table.
The old man made no reply to him, and would not even look at him. He
would not come again till supper-time; and Tom saw that he must back
down then, or there would be no chance to do so before night. But he had
not the moral courage to say he would learn his lesson. When the door
was locked upon him, he picked up the book; but, before he had looked
into it, he began to cry, though he was a great fellow of fifteen. It
took him an hour to get over this feeling of depression, and then he
looked into the book. He began to read the lesson which had been
assigned to him.
It was simple reading, and about matters within his comprehension.
Before he realized that he was actually engaged in learning the lesson
assigned to him, he was interested in the subject. It had been chosen
for this reason,—that he could hardly help enjoying what he read. He
found a solace in the book during the afternoon; and, when his supper
was brought to him, he informed Bates that he had learned his lesson.
The old man did not say a word, even to hint that he heard him; but, in
a few minutes, Mr. Darlingby appeared. He had nothing to say on the
question of discipline, but took the book at once, and proceeded to
examine Tom on the first pages. The rebellious pupil was well posted in
every thing he had read, and had studied far beyond the task assigned to
him.
All the instructor did when he had finished the recitation, was to
inform him that he was at liberty to leave his room. He made no remarks,
did not preach to him, or even point a moral from the events of his
imprisonment. Tom went out of the room, and descended the stairs. The
students were just coming out of the mansion after their supper, and
they were hurrying to the boat-house. Tom showed himself among them; but
not one of them manifested any surprise at seeing him, or said a word to
him about his conduct.
All this was very strange. He hastened to Kidd Digfield when he saw him
coming, and was thinking how he should explain to his crony the fact
that he had given in. He had yielded, and that was a thing he was not in
the habit of doing; and he felt that some apology was necessary to atone
for his wickedness.
"We are going to row in the Gildrock," said Kidd, as soon as he saw his
defeated chief. "There is a place for you in the boat, Tom."
"All right: I shouldn't mind taking a turn at the oars," replied Tom, as
they were joined by Nim and Pell.
"You are No. 11, next to the stroke oar," added Nim.
"I am No. 2," added Pell, as if he was simply recalling the locality of
his place in the barge.
Not a word about his imprisonment, not a hint in relation to their
opinion of his conduct. Tom thought it was very strange. He was allowed
to take his place in the ranks of the students, and no one seemed to
know that he had been standing out against orders. The same state of
things had bothered delinquents in years before, and they could not
explain it. Others could, if they had been disposed to do so.
The principal had requested all the pupils not to allude to any matters
of discipline to offenders. If one had been punished, they were not to
talk about the matter, and not to inform the delinquent that they even
knew of the fact. To the reformed Topovers, it seemed more like a good
joke on Tom not to notice what had happened; and they took pleasure in
complying with the principal's request. He had made quite a speech in
regard to this matter. Tom's vanity had no standing-room. Nobody seemed
to care whether he had been punished or not.