The Willoughby Captains Part 29

"Miss Stringer!"

"What about her? Isn't she a cad, eh?"

"Yes, and _I told her so_," groaned Telson; "I didn't know who she was, and I said--"

"Hullo, I say, look there!" exclaimed Parson, suddenly catching his friend by the arm.

They were pa.s.sing the Aquarium, which at that moment was disgorging its visitors. Among those who emerged exactly as the doctor's fly pa.s.sed were three boys, whom Telson and Parson recognised in a moment.

They were Silk and Gilks and another younger boy, who seemed to shrink from observation, and whose head was turned another way as the fly pa.s.sed. The three, immediately on gaining the street, started to run towards Willoughby ahead of the fly.

The two boys on the box pulled their caps over their eyes, and said not a word till the truants were clear. Then Telson said, "That was young Wyndham!"

"I know. I wonder if Paddy saw them?"

"Shouldn't think so. And they didn't see us. I say, will they get in before us?"

"It'll be a shave if they do. What a row there'll be if they don't!"

It was a curious thing that almost immediately after this short dialogue Telson's cap fell off into the road, and the fly had to be pulled up while he and Parson got down and looked for it. It was a dark night, and the cap took some time to find. When finally it was recovered, and progress was resumed, full five minutes had been lost over the search, by which time the truants had got a clear half-mile to the good, and were safe.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE BOAT-RACE.

The few days that intervened between the Sat.u.r.day of Brown's party and the Wednesday of the great race were days of restless suspense in Willoughby. Even Welch's caught the contagion, and regretted at the last hour that they had withdrawn from the all-important contest. As to the other two Houses, there never had been a year when the excitement ran so high or the rivalry grew so keen. Somehow the entire politics of Willoughby appeared to be mixed up in the contest, and it seemed as if the result of this one struggle was to decide everything.

The crews had worked hard up to the last, watched morning and evening by anxious spectators from the bank. The trials had been carefully noted and times compared, the variations in style had been eagerly criticised, the weights of the rowers had become public property, and in short every detail likely to influence the result was a subject of almost painful interest to the eager partisans on either side.

And every hour seemed to promise a closer race. Not that Parrett's had fallen off. On the contrary, they still remained what they had been all along, the smartest and strongest crew that Willoughby had ever put upon the river. But the schoolhouse boat had made wonderful strides. It was long since it had ceased to be the laughingstock of the hostile juniors, and it was some time since its appearance and work had begun to cause a shade of uneasiness in the minds of a few of the rival house.

Fairbairn, far from Bloomfield's match in physique or style, had yet displayed an amount of steady, determined work which had astonished most fellows, and inspired with confidence not only his partisans on the bank, but the three oarsmen at his back. By dint of patient, untiring practice he had worked his crew up to a pitch of training scarcely hoped for, and every day the schoolhouse boat had gained in style and speed.

Had the race been a fortnight or three weeks later few boys would have cared to prophesy definitely as to the result. As it was, though Parrett's was morally bound to win, it was clear the race would be a fierce one, and hardly fought every foot.

Such was the general opinion in Willoughby that Tuesday evening after the last practice had come to an end, and when the boats were finally housed for the night only to reappear next day in racing trim.

Young Wyndham, as he sat in Riddell's study with his books before him, could as soon have done a stroke of work as fly over the schoolhouse elms. Indeed, it was such a farce for him even to make the attempt that he shut up his books and gave up the idea.

"I say, Riddell," he said, presently, addressing the captain, who, though excited too after his own fashion, was poring determinedly over his work.

"Well?" asked he, looking up.

"I say, _do_ you think there's any chance of our boat winning?"

The boy asked the question so anxiously that one might have supposed his whole happiness in life depended on the answer.

"It's very hard to say," said Riddell. "I think we have some chance, at any rate."

"You did the course in as good time as Parrett's yesterday, didn't you?"

said Wyndham.

"Yes, but we had a better tide," said Riddell.

Wyndham's face clouded, for he knew it was true.

"You _must_ win, I say," said he, almost fiercely.

Riddell smiled.

"I mean to oblige you if I can, for one," said he.

"If they win," said Wyndham, "it'll be--"

But what it would be the youthful enthusiast lacked words to express.

Riddell turned again to his writing.

"Hadn't you better finish your work?" said he.

"Oh, I can't!" exclaimed Wyndham. "Who could work just before the race?"

So saying, he got up and gathered together his things.

Riddell was sorry for this. He had hoped the boy would stay. Amid all his fresh duties the new captain had kept his eye on his old friend's brother, and of late he had seen things which made him uneasy. Wyndham was on friendly terms again with his two undesirable patrons, and simultaneously his work in the library and his visits to Riddell's own study had become less regular. It all meant something, Riddell knew; and he knew, too, that that something was not any good. He made one attempt to detain the boy.

"You aren't going?" he said kindly.

"Yes. It's really no use grinding, to-night, Riddell."

"Won't you stop and keep me company, though?" asked the captain.

"You're working," said the boy. "I'll come to-morrow. Good-night."

And he went, leaving Riddell very uncomfortable. Why should he be so eager to go? Why should he always seem so restless now whenever he was in that study? Why should he always avoid any reference to--

Ah! here he was back again. A gleam of hope shot through Riddell's breast as he saw the door open and Wyndham re-enter. Perhaps, after all, the boy was going to stay and give him a chance. But no, Wyndham had come back for his knife, which Riddell had borrowed for sharpening a pencil. That was all he wanted; and having recovered it he departed quickly.

Riddell spent the rest of that evening in low spirits. He had been baulked, and worse than that, he felt other hands were playing their game more successfully, and that amongst them all young Wyndham was going wrong.

So the eve of the great boat-race was anything but a cheerful evening for the new captain.

But with the morning even Riddell could hardly harbour any thoughts outside the event of the day. Morning school that Wednesday was a farce all over Willoughby. Even the doctor seemed absent-minded, while one or two of the junior masters gave up the attempt in despair.

The race was fixed for three o'clock, when the tide would be running up at its fastest, and long before that hour every advantageous point of view on the banks was secured by eager spectators. These were by no means all Willoughby boys, for the school boat-race was always more or less of an event in Sh.e.l.lport itself, whose inhabitants flocked in large numbers to the scene of the contest.

Carnages lined the banks on either side for a considerable distance, and as usual the doctor's party a.s.sembled in great force on Willow Point.