It was plain to be seen that Tempest, although he had borne his
humiliating penalty like a man, had been badly bruised by it. Not that
he broke out into any wild rebellion, or tried to make for himself a
party to avenge his wrongs; but he seemed to have either lost interest
in his work as house captain, or to enjoy disturbing the sensibilities
of his friends by a reckless indifference to its affairs.
The story of his "extra drill" had become public property in Low Heath.
Most of the fellows sympathised with him, but could not understand why
he had not appealed to the head master. A few, a very few, suggested
that he had come badly out of the business; but no one particularly
cared to discuss the matter with him.
To Pridgin and Wales he insisted that it was no use referring to Dr
England. The Head was bound to support his policeman.
"Why not get Redwood to take it up?" suggested Pridgin.
"Redwood! He wouldn't go a yard out of his way. What does it matter to
him--a day boy? No, old chap, we can take care of ourselves. There'll
be a return match one day!"
It concerned me to hear my old friend talk like this; still more to
notice how he began to lose grip in Sharpe's house. No news flies so
fast in a school as that of a responsible head boy being slack or "out
of collar." And when once it is known and admitted, it takes a good
deal to keep the house from going slack and "out of collar" too.
In our particular department the relaxing of authority was specially
apparent. It destroyed some of the interest in our philosophical
extravagances; for the dread of coming across the powers that be lends a
certain flavour to the routine of a junior boy. It also tended to
substitute horseplay and rowdyism for mere fun--greatly to the detriment
of our self-respect and enjoyment.
On the whole, then, Sharpe's house had a heavier grudge against Mr
Jarman than it suspected.
The worst of the whole business was that Tempest himself seemed not to
see the effect of his attitude on the house at large. He did not
realise how much the juniors were impressed by what he said and how he
looked, or how much his example counted with others of a less imitative
turn. He looked upon his grievance as his own affair, and failed to
give himself credit for all the influence he really possessed.
One curious result of the upset was that Crofter was now and then to be
found in his fellow-seniors' rooms. He had blossomed out as an ardent
anti-Jarmanite, and belonged to the party who not only vowed revenge,
but was impatient at delay. Tempest's wrongs he seemed to feel as
keenly as if they had been his own; and the insults put upon Sharpe's
house he took to heart as warmly as any one.
Tempest could hardly help tolerating this effusively-offered sympathy,
although he made no profession of liking it, and continued to warn me
against having more to do than I could help with Crofter. Pridgin was
even less cordial, but his laziness prevented his taking any active
steps to cut the connection. Wales, on the other hand, though Tempest's
chum, took more kindly to the new-comer, and amused himself now and
again by defending him against his detractors.
"The wonder to me is," said Crofter, "Jarman has not caught it before
now. We're not the only house he's insulted, although I don't think
he's tried it on with any of the others as he has with us."
"Some day he'll find he's sailing a little too near the wind," said
Tempest, with a pleasant confusion of metaphors; "and then he'll get
bowled out."
"Upon my word, though," said Wales, "I think we've a right to get that
extra drill of yours wiped out. It stands against you on the register,
and it's a scandal to the house."
"They seem to think it so," observed Pridgin, as just then a loud chorus
of war-whoops came up from the region of the faggery. "Somebody had
better stop that row!"
"Jarman had better come and do it," said Tempest, laughing. "He's got
charge of the morals of Sharpe's house now."
When in due time I returned, somewhat depressed by what I had overheard,
to the faggery, I discovered that the particular occasion of the
triumphal shout referred to had been a proposal by Langrish to celebrate
the approaching Fifth of November by hanging, and, if possible, burning
Mr Jarman in effigy, for which purpose an overcoat of mine had already
been impounded. I had the greatest difficulty in rescuing it from the
hands of the marauders, who represented to me that it was my duty to
sacrifice something for the public good.
"Why don't you let them have _your_ coat, then?" I asked.
"Because," was the insinuating reply, "it wouldn't burn as well."
"You won't have mine," I insisted. "But I tell you what; I've got an
old hat and pair of boots I--I don't often wear--you can have them."
A shout of laughter greeted this ingenuous offer--but it saved my top-
coat. And when in time my flat-topped pot-hat and tan boots were
produced, there was general rejoicing. Each Philosopher present tried
them on in turn, and finally I was compelled to wear them, as well as my
top-coat, for the rest of the evening, and assist in a full-dress
rehearsal of the proposed hanging of the discipline master, in which,
greatly to my inconvenience, I was made to personate Mr Jarman.
The following day I was enjoying a little hard-earned solitude, and
amusing myself by leaning over the bridge and watching the boats below,
when a voice at my side startled me.
"Ah, my polite letter-writer, is that you? The very chap I want."
It was Crofter. My instinct at first, especially on the sly reference
to my letter of apology, was to fly. On second thoughts it seemed to me
wiser to remain. Crofter and Tempest were on better terms now. It
would be best to be civil.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Can you steer a boat?"
"A little," said I.
"Does that mean you can run it into the bank every few yards?"
"Oh no, I've often steered Tempest and Pridgin."
"Come along, then; I'm going to have a spin up to Middle-weir."
If there was one thing I enjoyed it was steering a boat, and I was not
long in accepting the invitation.
Crofter was not conferring a favour on me; only making a convenience of
me. So that I was not in any way making up to him. Our relations were
that of senior and fag only; and Tempest's and Pridgin's warnings to
beware when he was particularly friendly (even if it had not already
been cancelled by the fact that they now frequently had Crofter in their
rooms) could hardly apply now.
For all that, I did not feel quite comfortable, and was glad, on the
whole, that the embarkation did not take place under the eyes of my
patrons.
For some time Crofter sculled on in silence, giving me directions now
and again to keep in the stream, or take the boat well out at the
corners--which I considered superfluous. Presently, however, when we
were clear of Low Heath he slacked off and began to talk.
"I enjoyed that letter of yours," said he; "did you write it all
yourself?"
"Yes," said I, feeling and looking very uncomfortable.
"You and Tempest must be quite old chums."
"Yes."
"It's very rough on him, all this business."
"Yes, isn't it?" said I, somewhat won over by this admission.
"The worst of it is, it makes the house run down. I expected we were
going to do big things this term."
"It's not Tempest's fault if we don't," said I.
"Of course not. It's Jarman's. Every one knows that. It's rather a
pity Tempest takes it so meekly, though. Fellows will think he's either
afraid or doesn't care; and neither would be true."
"I should think not."