Tom Brown at Rugby Part 20

Meantime the procession went down the pa.s.sage to No. 7, the largest room, and the scene of the tossing, in the middle of which was a great open s.p.a.ce. Here they joined other parties of the bigger boys, each with a captive or two, some willing to be tossed, some sullen, and some frightened to death. At Walker's suggestion, all who were afraid were let off, in honor of Pater Brooke's speech.

Then a dozen big boys seized hold of a blanket, dragged from one of the beds. "In with Scud, quick! there's no time to lose." East was chucked into the blanket. "Once, twice, thrice, and away!" Up he went like a shuttle-c.o.c.k, but not quite up to the ceiling.

"Now, boys, with a will!" cried Walker. "Once, twice, thrice, and away!" This time he went clear up, and kept himself from touching the ceiling with his hands; and so again a third time, when he was turned out, and up went another boy. And then came Tom's turn. He lay quite still, by East's advice, and didn't dislike the "once, twice, thrice,"

but the "away" wasn't so pleasant. They were in good wind now, and sent him slap up to the ceiling the first time, against which his knees came rather sharply. But the moment's pause before descending was the rub, the feeling of utter helplessness, and of leaving his whole inside behind him sticking to the ceiling. Tom was very near shouting to be set down, when he found himself back in the blanket, but thought of East, and didn't; and so took his three tosses without a kick or a cry, and was called a young trump for his pains.

A BULLY'S REFINEMENTS.

He and East, having earned it, stood now looking on. No catastrophe happened, as all the captives were cool hands, and didn't struggle.

This didn't suit Flashman. What your real bully likes in tossing, is when the boys kick and struggle, or hold on to one side of the blanket, and so get pitched bodily on to the floor; it's no fun to him when no one is hurt or frightened.

"Let's toss two of them together, Walker," suggested he. "What a cursed bully you are, Flashey!" rejoined the other. "Up with another one."

And so after all, the two boys were not tossed together. The peculiar hardship of which tossing, is that it's too much for human nature to lie still then and share troubles; and so the wretched pair of small boys struggle in the air which shall fall atop in the descent, to the no small risk of both falling out of the blanket, and the huge delight of brutes like Flashman.

But now there's a cry that the praepostor of the room is coming; so the tossing stops, and all scatter to their different rooms, and Tom is left to turn in with the first day's experience of a public school to meditate upon.

CHAPTER VII.

SETTLING TO THE COLLAR.

"Says Giles, 'Tis mortal hard to go; But if so be's I must.

I means to follow arter he As goes hisself the fust."--_Ballad._

Everybody, I suppose, knows the dreamy, delicious state in which one lies, half asleep, half awake, while consciousness begins to return, after a sound night's rest in a new place which we are glad to be in, following upon a day of unwonted excitement and exertion. There are few pleasanter pieces of life. The worst of it is that they last such a short time; for, nurse them as you will, by lying perfectly pa.s.sive in mind and body, you can't make more than five minutes or so of them.

After which time the stupid, obtrusive, wakeful ent.i.ty[1] which we call "I," as impatient as he is stiff-necked, spite of our teeth will force himself back again, and take possession of us down to our very toes.

WAKING UP; MOVEMENTS OF BOGLE.

It was in this state that Master Tom lay at half-past seven on the morning following the day of his arrival, and from his clean little white bed watched the movements of Bogle (the generic name[2] by which the successive s...o...b..acks of the School-house were known), as he marched round from bed to bed, collecting the dirty shoes and boots, and depositing clean ones in their places.[3]

[1] #Ent.i.ty#: being.

[2] #Generic name#: cla.s.s name.

[3] "No Englishman ever blacks his own shoes," said an English visitor to Mr. Lincoln. "Well, whose shoes does he black then?" was the President's reply.

There he lay, half doubtful as to where exactly in the universe he was, but conscious that he had made a step in life which he had been anxious to make. It was only just light as he looked lazily out of the wide windows, and saw the tops of the great elms, and the rooks circling about, and cawing remonstrances to the lazy ones of their commonwealth, before starting in a body for the neighboring plowed fields. The noise of the room door closing behind Bogle, as he made his exit with the shoe-basket under his arm, roused him thoroughly, and he sat up in bed and looked round the room. What in the world could be the matter with his shoulders and loins? He felt as if he had been severely beaten all down his back, the natural results of his performance at his first match. He drew up his knees and rested his chin on them, and went over all the events of yesterday, rejoicing in his new life, what he had seen of it, and all that was to come.

Presently one or two of the other boys roused themselves, and began to sit up and talk to one another in low tones. Then East, after a roll or two, came to an anchor, also, and, nodding to Tom, began examining his ankle.

"What a pull,"[4] said he, "that it's lie-in-bed morning, for I shall be as lame as a tree, I think."

[4] #Pull#: lucky thing.

It was Sunday morning, and Sunday lectures had not yet been established; so that nothing but breakfast intervened between bed and eleven o'clock chapel,--a gap by no means easy to fill up; in fact, though received with the correct amount of grumbling, the first lecture inst.i.tuted by the Doctor shortly afterward was a great boon to the school. It was lie-in-bed, and no one was in a hurry to get up, especially in rooms where the sixth-form boy was a good-tempered fellow, as was the case in Tom's room, and allowed the small boys to talk and laugh, and do pretty much what they pleased, so long as they didn't disturb him. His bed was a bigger one than the rest, standing in the corner by the fire-place, with a washing-stand and large basin by the side, where he lay in state, with his white curtains tucked in so as to form a retiring place; an awful subject of contemplation to Tom, who slept nearly opposite, and watched the great man rouse himself and take a book from under his pillow, and begin reading, leaning his head on his hand, and turning his back to the room.

Soon, however, a noise of striving urchins arose, and muttered encouragements from the neighboring boys, of--"Go it, Tadpole!" "Now, young Green!" "Haul away his blanket!" "Slipper him on the hands!"

Young Green and little Hall, commonly called Tadpole, from his great black head and thin legs, slept side by side far away by the door, and were forever playing one another tricks, which usually ended, as on this morning, in open and violent collision: and now, unmindful of all order and authority, there they were each hauling away at the other's bed-clothes with one hand, and with the other, armed with a slipper, belaboring whatever portion of the body of his adversary came within reach.

GETTING UP.

"Hold that noise, up in the corner!" called out the praepostor, sitting up and looking round his curtains; and the Tadpole and young Green sank down into their disordered beds, and then, looking at his watch, added: "Hullo, past eight!--whose turn for hot water?"

(Where the praepostor was particular in his ablutions, the f.a.gs in his room had to descend in turn to the kitchen, and beg or steal hot water for him; and often the custom extended further, and two boys went down every morning to get a supply for the whole room.)

"East's and Tadpole's," answered the senior f.a.g, who kept the rota.[5]

[5] #Rota#: list.

"I can't go," said East; "I'm dead lame."

"Well, be quick, some of you, that's all," said the great man, as he turned out of bed, and putting on his slippers, went out into the great pa.s.sage which runs the whole length of the bedrooms, to get his Sunday habiliments out of his portmanteau.

"Let me go for you," said Tom to East. "I should like it."

"Well, thank'ee, that's a good fellow. Just pull on your trousers, and take your jug[6] and mine. Tadpole will show you the way."

[6] #Jug#: here, a large water-pitcher.

And so Tom and the Tadpole, in night-shirts and trousers, started off down-stairs, and through "Thos's hole," as the little b.u.t.tery, where candles and beer and bread and cheese were served out at night, was called; across the School-house court, down a long pa.s.sage, and into the kitchen; where, after some parley with the stalwart, handsome cook, who declared that she had filled a dozen jugs already, they got their hot water, and returned with all speed and great caution. As it was, they narrowly escaped capture by some privateers[7] from the fifth-form rooms, who were on the look-out for the hot-water convoys, and pursued them up to the very door of their room, making them spill half their load in the pa.s.sage. "Better than going down again, though," Tadpole remarked, "as we should have had to do, if those beggars had caught us."

[7] #Privateers#: literally, ships owned by private individuals licensed to plunder an enemy in war.

THE "CLOSE" BEFORE CHAPEL.

By the time that the calling-over bell rang, Tom and his new comrades were all down, dressed in their best clothes, and he had the satisfaction of answering "here" to his name for the first time, the praepostor of the week having put it in at the bottom of his list. And then came breakfast, and a saunter about the close and town with East, whose lameness only became severe when any f.a.gging had to be done. And so they whiled away the time until morning chapel.

It was a fine November morning, and the close soon became alive with boys of all ages, who sauntered about on the gra.s.s, or walked round the gravel-walk, in parties of two or three. East, still doing the cicerone, pointed out all the remarkable characters to Tom as they pa.s.sed: Osbert, who could throw a cricket ball from the little side ground over the rook-trees to the Doctor's wall; Gray, who had got the Balliol scholarship, and, what East evidently thought of much more importance, a half-holiday for the school by his success; Thorne, who had run ten miles in two minutes over the hour; Black, who had held his own against the c.o.c.k of the town in the last row with the louts; and many more heroes, who then and there walked about and were worshipped, all trace of whom has long since vanished from the scene of their fame; and the fourth-form boy who reads their names rudely cut out on old hall tables, or painted upon the big side-cupboard (if hall tables and big side-cupboards still exist), wonders what manner of boys they were. It will be the same with you who wonder, my sons, whatever your prowess may be, in cricket, or scholarship, or foot-ball. Two or three years, more or less, and then the steadily advancing, blessed wave will pa.s.s over your names as it has pa.s.sed over ours. Nevertheless, play your games and do your work manfully--see only that that be done, and let the remembrance of it take care of itself.

MORNING AND AFTERNOON CHAPEL.

The chapel-bell began to ring at a quarter to eleven, and Tom got in early, took his place in the lowest row, and watched all the other boys come in and take their places, filling row after row; and tried to construe[8] the Greek text which was inscribed over the door with the slightest possible success, and wondering which of the masters, who walked down the chapel and took their seats in the exalted boxes at the end, would be his lord. And then came the closing of the doors, and the Doctor, in his robes, and the service, which, however, didn't impress him much, for his feeling of wonder and curiosity was too strong. And the boy on one side of him was scratching his name on the oak paneling in front, and he couldn't help watching to see what the name was, and whether it was well scratched; and the boy on the other side went to sleep and kept falling against him; and on the whole, though many boys even in that part of the School, were serious and attentive, the general atmosphere was by no means devotional; and when he got out into the close again, he didn't feel at all comfortable, or as if he had been to church.

[8] #Construe#: translate.

But at afternoon chapel it was quite another thing. He had spent the time after dinner in writing home to his mother, and so was in a better frame of mind: and his first curiosity was over, and he could attend more to the service. As the hymn after the prayers was being sung, and the chapel was getting a little dark, he was beginning to feel that he had been really worshipping. And then came that great event in his, as in every Rugby boy's life of that day,--the first sermon from the Doctor.

THE SERMON.