After the Easter holidays, several new boys came. One of them was
called Edward Ellis. He had a remarkably quiet and subdued manner. The
general remark was, that he looked as if he was cowed. He was certainly
out of spirits. He spoke very little, avoided making friends, or, at
all events, confidants, and seldom entered into any of our games. He
seemed prepared to suffer any amount of bullying, even from little
fellows, and if he was struck, he never struck again. He had been at
school before, but he never said where. Probably, however, he had been
there for some time, for he was already fourteen, though not big or
strong for his age. With such a disposition and habits as I have
described, of course he could not be a favourite with any one; at the
same time, it could not be said that he was positively disliked.
Ernest, seeing how solitary and melancholy he appeared, compassionated
the poor fellow, and never lost an opportunity of speaking kindly to
him. This conduct had its due effect, and Ellis took pains to show his
gratitude.
Ernest had no little difficulty in defending his new friend, both from
attacks made with the fists and those levelled with that still sharper
weapon, the tongue. Ellis was much exposed to the latter, especially on
account of his ungainly appearance and uncouth manners. Of course
Blackall took especial delight in bullying him, as there was no fear of
a retort, by word, look, or deed. This conduct especially excited
Ernest's indignation, and he resolved to defend Ellis, at every personal
risk, from the attacks of the bully.
"Oh, I have always been an unfortunate, unhappy fellow!" exclaimed poor
Ellis one day, in the bitterness of his spirit, after he had been more
than usually bullied. "Unfortunate I have been, and unfortunate I
expect to be to the end of my days!"
"Oh, nonsense!" answered Ernest. "It is positively wrong to give way to
such feelings. Just rouse yourself, and come and play like other
fellows, and practise your limbs, and run and leap, and you'll soon get
on as well as anybody else. Put yourself under the drill-sergeant and
gymnastic master, and learn to dance, and you'll do as well as anybody."
"Me dance!" cried Ellis, with a doleful expression. "Tell me,
Bracebridge, did you ever see a bear attempt to practise the
Terpsichorean art. I should be very like the monster if I were to try
it. But it is not that--there is something I cannot tell you about
which makes me so unhappy, that I never expect to get over it. Nobody
here knows anything about it, but some day they may, and then I shall be
worse off than I am now."
"Well, I don't want you to tell me," replied Ernest, for he had an
innate dislike to petty confidences. "But, I repeat, come and join us
in our games. Just practise cricket, for instance, every day for a
month or so, with single wickets, and you'll be able to join in our
matches, and play as well as any one, I dare say."
"Oh, no! I've no hopes of myself. I'm sure I shall never play
cricket," said Ellis, shaking his head.
"We'll see about that," observed Ernest, laughing at his friend's
lugubrious expression of countenance. "But I'll tell you what you can
do; you can play a game of rounders. It is not often that I play now,
but I will get up a game for your sake."
Ellis was easily persuaded to accept Ernest's offer. They went out into
the playground, and the latter was not long in finding plenty of players
ready to join the game. Everybody was very much surprised when they saw
Ernest select Ellis on his side.
"Why, Bracebridge, you'll never do with that fellow; he'll be out
directly," cried several boys.
"Never mind; he'll play better than you suppose in a little time," was
the answer. "Everybody must make a beginning."
Five of a side were chosen, and the ground was marked out. Five sticks
were run into the earth, about sixteen yards apart, the lines between
them forming the sides of a pentagon, with one stick in the centre. The
centre was the place for the feeder.
"Those are what we call bases," said Ernest to Ellis, pointing out the
spots where the sticks were placed. Then he drew a circle round one of
them, which he pointed out as the "home."
Buttar, Bouldon, Dawson, and other fellows of the same age, were
playing. Bouldon was on one side, Ernest on the other. The latter
selected Buttar, and the former Dawson. They tossed up who was to go in
first; Ernest won. He went in first; Tom had to feed him. Dawson kept
a sharp look-out behind him, as did the other three players in different
parts of the field. There is more science in the game than many people
are aware of, though not, of course, to be compared to cricket, any more
than the short bat which is used is to a cricket-bat.
"Now, Bouldon, give me a fair ball, you sly fox," cried Ernest, for Tom
was notorious for his tricks and dodges of every sort. If a good hoax
was played on the school, or on any individual, its authorship was
generally traced to him. To do him credit, they were never ill-natured.
He generally, when found out, bore his blushing honours meekly, and if
not discovered, contented himself by laughing quietly in his sleeve.
"All fair and above board," cried Tom, bowling. "Look out!"
Ernest hit the ball a fine blow, and sent it flying away over the heads
of all the out-players. Away he ran from base to base. He had already
reached the third from the home--two distances more only had to be run--
when Reynolds, a boy who could heave as far as any one in the school,
got hold of the ball. One more run he thought he could attempt, for
Reynolds could scarcely hit him at that distance. Reynolds, seizing the
ball, rushed on with it. Ernest reached the fourth base. He wished to
make Reynolds heave it; he pretended to spring forward; Reynolds threw
the ball; Ernest watched its course, and as it bounded by him, he
changed his feint into a reality, and reached the home. The next time
he hit the ball still harder, and ran the whole round of the bases.
"Now, Ellis, you may have to go in before long," he sang out. "Don't
attempt a rounder, though. Get to the first or second base easily; that
will do. Come, feed away, Tommy."
Bouldon fed him, and though he sent the ball to a good distance, he only
reached the fourth base. When he got there, he called out to Ellis to
go in. Ellis seized the bat with a convulsive clutch, as if he was
about to fight a battle with it, or was going to perform some wonderful
undertaking. Even Ernest could scarcely help laughing at the curious
contortions of countenance in which he indulged. However, remembering
Ernest's advice, he kept his eye on the ball, and hit it so fairly, and
with such good force, that he sent it flying away to a considerable
distance.
"Capital!" cried Ernest, clapping his hands at the success of his pupil.
"Run! run!--two bases at least."
Ellis did the distance with ease, and Ernest sprang into the home.
"Now look out, old fellow, to run right in, or, at all events, to the
fourth base," he sang out to Ellis, whose spirits rose at his success;
and he looked as eager as any one, and ready for anything. Tom tossed
the ball to Ernest in a way somewhat difficult to hit, and when he
struck it, he was nearly caught out. He, however, ran over a couple of
bases, and Ellis stopped short at the fourth. This brought in a new
player at the home. He sent the ball but a short way, and Ellis was
very nearly struck out. The ball grazed him, but he was well in the
home. Had he been struck out, he very likely would never have played
well again. Tom now fed him. He hit the ball, and with all his might,
and sent it as far as Ernest or Bouldon had ever done.
"Capital! well done, Ellis!" shouted many of the fellows, both players
and lookers-on; and away he ran, and performed a whole circle.
Ernest determined to play his best, so as to keep Ellis in as long as
possible. He was sure, from what he saw, that his success would give
him encouragement, not only to play other games, but to mix more
sociably with his schoolfellows. Ernest played capitally, but Ellis
scored almost as many, to the surprise of those who fancied that he
could not play at all. Few would have believed that he was the same
awkward, shy boy, who was usually creeping about the play-ground, as
they saw him, with a high colour and full of animation, hitting ball
after ball with all his might, and cutting away round the bases. At
last, one of their side was caught out, and Buttar went in. He was a
good player, and added considerably to the numbers scored by his side.
Still, as both Dawson and Bouldon were capital players, and so were most
of their side, Ernest did his utmost to get as many runs as possible, at
the same time that he wanted to make Ellis feel that he had himself
contributed largely to the victory. Every time Ellis made a good hit,
he praised him loudly, and certainly felt more pleasure than if he had
done well himself. Poor Ellis had never been so happy since he was a
child. He began to feel that, after all, he need not fancy himself less
capable than his companions to enter into the usual sports of the
school. At last, Buttar was struck out, and so was another player, and
Ernest and Ellis alone were kept in. The latter could scarcely believe
his senses, when he found himself the only person to help Ernest to keep
up the game. Ernest was in the home; Ellis was on the base at the
opposite side. He knew that he must run hard, or he would put Ernest
out as well as himself.
"Now, Tom, two fair hits for the rounder," exclaimed Ernest.
The proposal was agreed to. Bouldon kept tossing the ball several
times, but Ernest refused to hit. At last he hit, but did not run, and
Ellis very nearly got out by attempting to do so. The next time he hit,
and hit hard indeed. Away flew the ball further than ever, to the very
end of the field.
"Now, Ellis, run! run!" he sang out.
Ellis moved his legs faster than he had ever before done, and shouted
and shrieked with delight when Ernest made the round in safety. Thus
the game continued. Ellis appeared to have a charmed existence as far
as the game was concerned. Nothing could put him out. More than once
his balls seemed to slip through the very fingers of those about to
catch them.
"I say, Bracebridge, are you going to be out or not, this evening?"
exclaimed Tom, getting positively tired of feeding.
"Not if Ellis and I can help it," was the answer. "We've taken a fancy
to have a long innings, do you see?"
So it seemed, in truth; and the tea-bell positively rang while they were
still in. By the custom of our school, a game of that minor description
was then considered over; and the two new friends went into the tea-room
together in a very triumphant state of mind.
"I told you, Ellis, you could do whatever you tried, just as well as
other fellows," said Ernest, as he sat by him at tea. "Now I must show
you how to play cricket, and hockey, and football, and fives, and all
sorts of games. To-morrow we'll have a little quiet practice at cricket
with single wicket, and I'll wager by the summer that you'll be able to
play in a match with any fellows of our size."
Ellis thanked Ernest most warmly. He felt a new spirit rising in him--
powers he had never dreamed of possessing coming out. He might yet
stand on equal terms with his companions at school and with his
fellow-men in the world.
"As I told you before, old fellow, what you want is a course of
drilling. Our old sergeant will set you up and make you look like a
soldier in a very few months. Just go and talk to the Doctor about it.
He'll be glad to find you wish to learn. You'll like old Sergeant
Dibble amazingly. It's worth learning for the sake of hearing him tell
his long stories about his campaigning days--what his regiment did in
the Peninsular, and how they drove all Napoleon's generals out of Spain
and Portugal."
Ernest grew quite enthusiastic when speaking about Sergeant Dibble, with
whom he was a great favourite. He succeeded in inspiring Ellis with a
strong desire to learn drilling.
"Who knows but what after all I may one day be considered fit to go into
the army!" exclaimed Ellis, after listening to a somewhat long oration
in praise of Sergeant Dibble.
"I wish you would go into it," said Ernest. "I believe that I am to be
a soldier, but my father will never tell any of us what professions he
intends us for. He tells us we must get as much knowledge as we can
obtain, and that we must perfect ourselves in all physical exercises,
and then that we shall be fit to be bishops, or generals, or lord
chancellors, or admirals, or aldermen, or whatever may be our lot in
life. Of course, he is right. My elder brother came out Senior
Wrangler at Cambridge, and pulls one of the best oars and plays cricket
as well as any man in the University. If I can do as well as he has
done I shall be content. He is now going to study the law, and then to
look after the family property. I have to make my own way in the world
somehow or other."
"Well, so have I to make my own way," observed Ellis. "I don't fancy
that I shall ever have any property coming to me, and I thought that I
should never get on, but always have to stick at the bottom of the tree;
but do you know, that from what you have said to me, I begin to hope
that I may be able to climb like others, if not to the top, at least to
a comfortable seat among the branches?"
"Bravo! capital! that you will!" cried Ernest, who was delighted to find
the effect his lessons were producing. He was not himself aware of the
benefits he was reaping from having some one to watch over and assist.
Ernest was undoubtedly very clever, but he was very far from perfect.
He could not help feeling that he was superior to most--indeed, to all
the boys of his own age at school. This did not make him vain or
conceited in any objectionable way, but he was somewhat egotistical. He
thought a good deal about himself--what people would say of him, what
they would think of him. He was perhaps rather ambitious of shining
simply for the sake of shining--a very insufficient reason, all must
agree, if they will but consider how very very pale a light the
brightest genius can shed forth when his knowledge comes to be measured
with that which is required to comprehend a tenth part of the glories
which the universe contains.
The half drew on. Blackall did not relax in his tyranny over the
younger boys, though more than once it brought him into trouble. At
last the Doctor heard of his bullying, and he was confined within bounds
for a month, and had no end of impositions to get up. He promised
amendment; but the punishment did not cure him, and in a short time he
was as bad as ever. He began, as usual, upon those less likely to
complain, and Ellis was one of his first victims. He seemed to take a
peculiar delight in making the poor fellow's existence miserable, and
every day he found some fresh means of torture. Ernest saw this going
on day after day, and at last felt that he could stand it no longer. "I
must get Ellis to stick up to him, or I must do so alone," he exclaimed
to himself.
Although Ellis fancied that he could not play at games, he was very
ingenious, and could make all sorts of things--little carriages of
cardboard, with woodwork, and traces and harness complete, which he
painted and varnished; and boats and vessels, which he cut out of soft
American pine, and scooped out and put decks into them, and cut out
their sails, and rigged them with neat blocks. Sometimes the blocks had
sheaves in them, and the sails were made to hoist up and down, and his
yachts sailed remarkably well and could beat any of those opposed to
them. Then he made little theatres capitally, and painted the scenes
and cut out the characters, and stuck tinsel on to them; and if not as
good as a real play, they afforded a vast amount of amusement. These
talents, however, were not discovered for some time.
We did not disdain to fly kites at our school, but they were very large,
handsome kites, and we used to vie with each other in trying which could
get the largest and strongest and most finely ornamented, and make them
fly the highest.
Our French master, Monsieur Malin, was a great hand at kite-flying. He
did not like cricket, or football, or hockey, or any game in which he
might get hurt, because, as he used to say, "Vat you call my sins are
not manufactured of iron. You _petits garcons_ don't mind all sorts of
knocks about, but for one poor old man like me it is not good." Had he
been an Englishman, we might have despised him for not playing cricket
or football, but we thought it was only natural in a Frenchman. As he
played rounders, and prisoners' base, and hoops, and every game of
skill, in capital style, and was very good-natured and ready to do
anything anybody asked him, which he had it in his power to do, he was
deservedly a very general favourite. It was great fun to hear him sing
out, "Chivie! chivie! chivie!" when playing at prisoners base, and to
see his legs with short steps moving along twice as fast as anybody
else.
The weather was getting rather too hot for most of our running games
which we played in the spring and autumn--with the exception, of course,
of cricket, the most delightful of all summer amusements--when Monsieur
Malin proposed a grand kite-flying match. Two different objects were to
be tried for. There were two equal first prizes. One was to be won by
the kite which rose the highest, or rather, took out the longest line;
the other prize was to be given to the owner of the kite which could
pull the heaviest weights the fastest. Two other prizes were to be
bestowed, one on the handsomest kite, and the other to the most
grotesque, provided they were not inferior in other qualities.
For two or three weeks before, preparations were being made for the
match, and every day parties were seen going out to the neighbouring
heath to try the qualities of the kites they had manufactured. Clubs
were formed which had one or two kites between them, for the expense of
the string alone was considerable. It was necessary to have the
lightest and strongest line to be procured, which would also run easily
off the reel.
Monsieur Malin was working away at his kite in his room, and he said
that he would allow no one to see it till it was completed. Many of the
bigger fellows condescended to take an interest in the matter, as did
Lemon and Ernest and others, and even Blackall gave out that he intended
to try the fortune of his kite. He stated that he should not bother
himself by making one, but that he had written to London to have the
largest and best ever made sent down to him. Many of the fellows, when
they heard this, said that they thought there would be very little use
in trying to compete with him. Dawson especially remarked that he
should give up. "Blackall has everything of the best, you know, always
in tip-top style," he remarked; "and you see, if he gets a regular-made
kite from a first-rate London maker, what chance can any of us possibly
have?" Blackall himself seemed to be of the same opinion, and boasted
considerably of the wonders his kite was going to perform. Monsieur
Malin smiled when he heard him boasting; Ernest said nothing, but looked
as if he thought that he might be mistaken; while Buttar laughed and
observed that Bully Blackall seemed to think that a large amount of
credit was to be gained by buying a good kite. He might congratulate
himself still more if he could buy at as cheap a rate a good temper and
a good disposition.
Ernest, meantime, going on the principle he had adopted of doing his
utmost to encourage Ellis, proposed to join him in the share of a kite.
Ellis said that he should be very glad, and that he would undertake to
make it himself.
"What! can you make kites?" exclaimed Ernest. "I never dreamed of
that."
"Oh, I have made all sorts of kites, and know how to fly them well,"
answered Ellis. "I have the materials for one in my box now. I did not
like to produce them, because the other boys would only laugh at me for
proposing to fly a kite. I have ample line, though we may add another
ball or two. All I want are two thin but strong laths, nine and eight
feet long."
"What! are you going to make the kite nine feet high!" exclaimed Ernest.
"That will be big, indeed."
"Yes; nine feet high, and eight from wing to wing," said Ellis.
"Why, what a whacking big fellow it will be!" exclaimed Ernest. "And I
say, what a lot of paper it will take to make it!"
"Not a particle," answered Ellis. "It is all made of silk, which is
lighter and stronger than any other material. Come with me to the
carpenter's and get the laths, and we'll have it made by the evening, so
as to fly it, if there is a breeze, to-morrow."
"I'll go with pleasure to the carpenter's; but if you are pretty certain
that your kite will do well, do not let us fly it till the day of trial.
It will astonish every one so much to see you come out with a great big
kite, which, I doubt not, will beat all the others."
"Oh, no! I'm afraid that it won't do that. It will scarcely be equal
to Monsieur Malin's, and probably Blackall will get something very grand
down from London," answered Ellis, always diffident about anything
connected with himself.
"We'll see," said Ernest quietly. "And now, as we have so grand a kite,
let us go and see old Hobson about the carriage which we must make it
drag. Any shape and any plan is allowable, remember, provided it can
carry two. Now I have a design in my head which I think will answer
capitally. You see old gentlemen and ladies steering themselves, with a
person pushing behind, in an arm-chair. I propose having a sort of a
skeleton of a chair, with two big wheels and one small one in front,
with a very long front part,--one seat behind for the person who manages
the kite, and one in front for the steerer. There must be a bar in
front with a block to it, through which the line must pass, and then I
would have a light pole with a hook at one end, while the butt-end
should be secured to the centre of the carriage. Suppose you were to
sit in front and steer; I would sit behind and have a reel to haul in or
let out the line, and with the pole and hook I could bring the kite on
one side of the carriage or the other, as might be required to assist
you to guide it. It is my opinion that we can make the carriage go on a
wind, as yachtsmen say. That is to say, if the wind is from the north
or south, we may make the carriage go east or west. Now, if other
fellows have not thought of that, and the wind should change a few
points, we may be able to go on in our proper course while they may be
obliged to stop, and so we shall win the prize."
"Capital!" repeated Ellis, clapping his hands and hugging himself in his
delight in a peculiarly grotesque way which always made his friend
smile, though he determined some day quietly to tell him of the habit,
and to advise him to get over it. "Capital!" repeated Ellis. "I've
heard of something of the sort in Canada, where, on the lakes and
rivers, what are called ice-boats are used. They are, however, placed
on great skates or iron runners, and have sails just like any other
boats, only the sails are stretched quite flat, like boards. They have
a long pole out astern with an iron at the end of it, which cuts into
the ice and serves as a rudder. They sail very fast, and go, I
understand, close on a wind."
"What fun to sail in them!" cried Ernest. "I've often thought I should
like to go to Canada, and that would be another reason. But, I say,
Ellis, I fancy from the way you talk you know something about yachting.
I'm very fond of it; you and I will have some sailing together one of
these days."
Ellis said that he had frequently yachted with some of his relations,
and that he should be delighted to take a cruise with Ernest when they
could afford to have a boat. They talked away till they got to the shop
of old Hobson the carpenter. He was a clever workman, with a natural
mechanical turn, so he comprehended the sort of carriage they wanted,
and willingly undertook to make it.