II

When the gas was turned out at the meter on the night preceding the

siege, Trelawny made a short speech. First he lighted two candles and

made us sign the protest; then he explained his military system of night

and day watches and guards. Each of the four windows had a guard at all

hours, and two chaps were to be stationed at the iron door. This was

made doubly strong by beds piled against it, after the manifesto had

been finally signed and left outside. The document ran thus:

“We, the undersigned, thinking that the fame of Dunston’s is tarnished

by Mr. Thompson, M.A., Fellow of Trinity College, Camb., hereby protest,

and formally assert themselves to call attention to Mr. Thompson. We,

the undersigned, have no personal grudge to Mr. Thompson, but think him

unsuited to carry on the great reputation of Dunston’s. We, the

undersigned, take this important step fully alive to the gravity of it,

for we are prepared to suffer if necessary to call attention to the

subject. We do not doubt Mr. Thompson’s goodness, and wish it to be

understood that the action is abstract and not personal. A string will

be lowered from the third window of the Wing Dormitory to-morrow at 8.30

A.M. Any answer to the protest will receive instant attention from us

the undersigned.”

Then followed the names.

Of course, it was all Greek to the kids, but they put their trust in

Trelawny and signed to a kid.

Inside the dormitory we were jolly busy, too, because after Trelawny, as

commander, had made his rules and regulations clear, Bradwell, as the

head of the commissariat, drew up a list of the total supplies, and

showed what each fellow had contributed to the store. This list I copied

for Bradwell at the time, with notes about the different supplies. It

comes in here, and I must give it, just to show what different ideas

different chaps have about the things you ought to eat in a siege.

TRELAWNY.--Two hams, eight loaves of bread.

BRADWELL.--Three tins potted salmon, two seed-cakes (big), box of

biscuits.

ASHBY MAJOR.--Ten tins sardines. (Ashby has five shillings a week

pocket-money, his father being rather rich. Bradwell said it was rather

a pity he spent it all in sardines.)

ASHBY MINOR.--Three pats of butter, three tins Swiss milk, one tin Guava

jelly. (Bradwell was awfully pleased about the milk, because he said it

was at once nourishing and pleasant to the taste.)

WILSON.--Six dried herrings, two pots veal and ham paste, one pot

marmalade. (Herrings useless, unless eaten raw.)

WEST.--Four bottles raspberry vinegar. (I am West, and I thought

raspberry vinegar would be a jolly good thing to break the monotony of a

siege. But Bradwell said it was simply a luxury.)

MORRANT.--One hamper containing twenty-four apples, twenty-seven pears,

two pots blackberry jam. (Morrant has no pocket-money, but Bradwell said

the fruit was good for a change.)

GIDEON.--Nothing. (Gideon is a Jew by birth, and gets ten shillings a

week pocket-money. He pretended he had forgotten. Trelawny says he will

suffer for it in the course of the siege.)

MATHERS.--Eight pieces of shortbread, five slabs of toffee, seven

sausage-rolls. (The rolls were cut in half to be eaten first thing

before they went bad. But Bradwell said Mathers had made the selection

of a fool, and so Mathers was rather vexed with Bradwell.)

NEWNES.--Ten loaves (five brown), one packet of beef tabloids. (Trelawny

congratulated Newnes.)

MCINNES.--A lot of spring onions and lettuces, costing one-and-sixpence.

(McInnes had been reading a book about chaps getting scurvy on a raft,

and he thought a siege would be just the place for scurvy, so he bought

all green stuff; and Bradwell said it was good.)

CORKEY MINIMUS.--Three pounds of mixed sweets. (Bradwell smacked his

head when he heard what Corkey minimus had got; but Trelawny pointed out

that a few sweets served out from time to time might distract the mind.)

DERBYSHIRE.--A pigeon-pie and thirteen currant buns with saffron in

them.

FORREST.--Four pots Bovril, one bottle cider. (Bovril can be taken on

bread like treacle, and once saved the lives of several shipwrecked

sailors.)

WATSON MINOR.--Two pounds dog-biscuits, one pound dried figs, one box of

dates. (Asked why he took dog-biscuits, he explained it was because he

had seen an advertisement about the goodness of them. It said they had

dried buffalo meat in them, which was a thing you could live for an

immense duration of time on. Trelawny said that was pretty fair sense

for a kid.)

* * * * *

All this splendid food was brought out of boxes where it had been hidden

and placed in the hands of Bradwell; and that night he sat up with a

candle and drew out bills of fare and made calculations. We were rather

surprised in the morning to hear the rations would not last more than a

fortnight, but Trelawny said the siege must be over long before that.

Nobody slept much, and many had dressed before the first bell rang. When

the second bell rang Trelawny and Bradwell went to the door to listen.

Presently Thompson, of all people, came up and tried to get in and

couldn’t. He shook the door, then saw the envelope addressed to the

Doctor, and said:

“What’s the meaning of this, you fellows? Let me in at once!”

But nobody answered. Then he cleared off. At 8.30 the string was lowered

from the window, and Trelawny went and stood by it to pull up any letter

that might be fastened to it. But none was. Some of the chaps were

prowling about outside looking at the Wing Dormitory, but Trelawny

wouldn’t let anybody go to the windows except himself.

Then, as nothing happened, we had breakfast. McInnes and Forrest were

told off to help Bradwell, and each chap’s rations were put on his bed

after he had made it. We all got the same except Gideon--a slice of

bread, two sardines, half one of Mathers’s sausage-rolls, and half a

tumbler of water. So we began at once to see what a jolly serious thing

a siege is. And Gideon saw it more than we did, because he had no

sardines and no sausage-roll. He offered Trelawny money for a little

more food, but Trelawny said he shouldn’t have as much as one mixed

sweet, though he might pay gold for it. He said, “You will have barely

enough to keep you alive.” And Gideon turned awfully white when he heard

it.

Breakfast didn’t take more than about five minutes, then there was a

tremendous knocking at the iron door, and Bradwell said the trouble had

begun, but Trelawny said it was the summons to a parley. Anyway, we

heard the Doctor’s voice, and it wasn’t much of a parley, strictly

speaking, because he spoke first, and merely gave us two minutes to be

in our places down-stairs.

“If you don’t obey, one and all of you,” said the Doctor, “you must take

the consequences. As it is, they will be sufficiently grave. Any further

offence I shall know how to treat.”

“If you please, sir,” said Trelawny, “the string is out of the window.

We are doing this for the good of the school, and--”

Then he stopped, because he had heard the Doctor go away.

“He’ll try a blacksmith first,” said Forrest; “then, when they find they

can’t do anything with this iron door, he’ll send for policemen.”

But nothing was done, strangely enough, and Trelawny made the chaps lie

down and sleep if they could in the afternoon, because he expected a

night attack with ladders. To get in it would be necessary to remove the

bars from the windows, and anybody attempting to do so would, of course,

be at our mercy with the windows open.

For dinner that day we had one of Trelawny’s hams cut into fifteen

pieces, with two rather thin slices of bread, one spring onion, and

three mixed sweets each, and as much raspberry vinegar as would go into

a bullet-mold that Wilson had. Gideon ate the ham like anybody else,

which shows Jews don’t refuse pork in any shape at times of siege,

whatever they say. Trelawny wouldn’t give him any raspberry vinegar, but

Ashby minor let him have one of his mixed sweets, which was green and

had arsenic in it, Ashby minor thought.

It seemed a frightfully long day, and nothing being done against us made

it longer. Bradwell tried to cook Wilson’s herrings with stuff out of a

pillow-case, but unfortunately failed. Trelawny explained that Dunston

was working out tactics, and would do something when the moon rose. He

said our motto was to be “Defence, not Defiance”; but Derbyshire said

they were going to starve us out like rats, so as to reduce the glory as

much as possible. One or two chaps had private rows that day, and

Trelawny was pretty short and sharp. He said we were to regard ourselves

as under martial law, and he stopped Forrest having any tea at all

because he looked out of the window and waved his hand to Steggles in

the playground. What made it worse for Forrest was that we opened one of

his pots of Bovril at that very tea, and of course he didn’t have any.

But Trelawny said it was good discipline, and wouldn’t let Mathers

divide his share with young Forrest, though he wanted to.

The day dragged out. Nothing was done, and no letter was put on the

string. Then night came and moonlight, and Trelawny set watches at each

window and door with directions to wake him instantly if anything

happened or anybody assembled outside below. But he didn’t sleep really.

In fact, only a few of the kids did. Bradwell got a bit down in the

mouth after dark, and I heard him say to Trelawny it wasn’t turning out

like he thought, and Trelawny said:

“It’s always the same when a position is impregnable. I could show you a

dozen similar sieges in history. Of course, it’s the most uninteresting

sort of siege when chaps simply sit and see the enemy get to the end of

their food supplies, but they won’t do that with us. The day boys will

talk, and old Dunston will raise heaven and earth to keep it out of the

printed papers. I bet he’ll tie something to the string to-morrow.”

Some of us tried to take a bright view like Trelawny, but when we heard

him tell Bradwell to run no risks and serve out as little bread as

possible, we felt that he did not really feel as hopeful of a short

siege as he seemed. Just before dusk Corkey minimus was caught in the

act of flinging a letter out of the window addressed to his mother. It

was torn up, and he was cautioned. That ended the day, and nothing else

happened until a quarter to one o’clock. Then Bradwell, whose watch it

was, called “Cave!” and came to Trelawny with frightful excitement to

say that there was the head of a ladder at his window, and a man

climbing up. Trelawny was there in a second, and asked in a loud voice

what the man wanted, and said he’d throw the ladder down if the man came

up another rung. But the man said:

“Hush! you silly fellow; I’m a friend with news from the enemy. The

least you can do is to ’ear what I’ve got to say.”

“Good Lord!” said Trelawny, “it’s Thompson!”

And so it was, and his huge head soon got level with the window, and

looked like a bull’s against the moonlight. Trelawny made everybody get

out of earshot except Bradwell; but he didn’t happen to see me, being

rolled up in bed near the window, so I heard.

First Thompson said:

“Look ’ere, you Cornish boy, I’m sorry to find we ’aven’t ’it it off by

any means, and you want me to go, and you’ve locked yourself and friends

up ’ere as a protest. Now, ’ow ’ave I ’urt your feelings, and what have

I done?”

Which was a bit difficult for Trelawny; but he fell back on the

manifesto to the Doctor.

“It’s no personal matter, sir. We wish it to be understood that the

action is abstract.”

“Oh. Well, I can’t say I know what the devil you mean by that; but I

like you all better than ever, and I understand this much, that you

don’t like me. I’m not proud. I’m quite as ready to learn as to teach.

Tell me what makes you do this, you queer things.”

“We don’t think you are the right man for Dunston’s, sir,” said

Trelawny, firmly.

“Well, but isn’t Doctor Dunston the best judge? His experience reaches

back rather farther than yours. Anyway, I’m not going. You’ll ’ave to

tolerate me. You’ll ’ave to like me too. I’ve disobeyed all orders by

climbing up ’ere now to advise you to give in to-morrow. Take my advice,

and come out at the first bell, and with ropes round your necks.

Measures are in ’and; and as your protest has utterly failed, the sooner

you give in and take your punishment the better. I’ve done my best to

make it as light as I can; but boys mustn’t do this sort of thing in big

schools, you know. It’s very naughty indeed.”

“We shall keep up the protest for another day at least, sir,” said

Trelawny, with a lot of side in his voice.

“No, my lad, you won’t,” answered Thompson. “The Doctor has taken my

advice, and by very simple means, with the least possible waste of time,

trouble, and money, we shall enter your stronghold to-morrow. I am quite

good-tempered to-day. To-morrow I shall probably be quite cross and ’ot.

The matter is in my ’ands. Do be good boys and yield while there is

time. The sooner the better.”

“I regret we cannot comply with your terms, sir,” said Trelawny.

“I’m not offering any,” answered Mr. Thompson. “I only want to make your

foolishness fall as light as possible. Your mothers’ and fathers’ ’earts

will ache over this headstrong business.”

“The parley is ended,” said Trelawney.

“All right,” said Mr. Thompson, “I’m afraid you’re a hawful little prig,

Trelawny.” Then he went down the ladder, and looking out, Bradwell

reported that he saw him taking it back to the gardener’s shed in the

shrubbery.