Tom Brown at Rugby Part 50

CRICKET-MATCHES.

The Wellesburn match was played out with great success yesterday, the School winning by three wickets;[7] and to-day the great event of the cricketing year, the Marylebone match, is being played. What a match it has been! The London eleven came down by an afternoon train yesterday, in time to see the end of the Wellesburn match; and as soon as it was over, their leading men and umpire inspected the ground, criticising it rather unmercifully. The captain of the School eleven, and one or two others, who had played the Lord's match before, and knew old Mr. Aislabie and several of the Lord's men, accompanied them; while the rest of the eleven looked on from under the Three Trees with admiring eyes, and asked one another the names of the ill.u.s.trious strangers, and recounted how many runs each of them had made in the late matches in _Bell's Life_. They looked such hard-bitten,[8] wiry, whiskered fellows, that their young adversaries felt rather desponding as to the result of the morrow's match. The ground was at last chosen, and two men set to work to water and roll it; and then, there being yet some half-hour of daylight, some one had suggested a dance on the turf. The close was half full of citizens and their families, and the idea was hailed with enthusiasm. The cornopean-player was still on the ground; in five minutes the eleven, and half a dozen of the Wellesburn and Marylebone men got partners somehow or another, and a merry country dance was going on, to which every one flocked, and new couples joined in every minute, till there were a hundred of them going down the middle and up again--and the long line of school-buildings looked gravely down on them, every window glowing with the last rays of the western sun, and the rooks clanged about in the tops of the old elms, greatly excited, and resolved on having their country dance, too, and the great flag flapped lazily in the gentle western breeze. Altogether it was a sight which would have made glad the heart of our brave old founder, Lawrence Sheriff,[9] if he were half as good a fellow as I take him to have been. It was a cheerful sight to see, but what made it so valuable in the sight of the captain of the School eleven was, that he saw there his young hands shaking off their shyness and awe of the Lord's men, as they crossed hands and capered about on the gra.s.s together; for the strangers entered into it all, and threw away their cigars, and danced and shouted like boys, while old Mr. Aislabie stood by looking on in his white hat, leaning on a bat, in benevolent enjoyment. "This hop will be worth thirty runs[10] to us to-morrow, and will be the making of Raggles and Johnson," thinks the young leader, as he revolves many things in his mind, standing by the side of Mr. Aislabie, whom he will not leave for a minute, for he feels that the character of the School for courtesy is resting on his shoulders.

[7] #By three wickets#: three players yet to bat.

[8] #Hard-bitten#: keen.

[9] #Lawrence Sheriff#: See note on Rugby, p. 72.

[10] #Runs#: the running from one wicket to the other by the batsmen. The game depends on these runs.

But when a quarter to nine struck, and he saw old Thomas beginning to fidget about with the keys in his hand, he thought of the Doctor's parting monition, and stopped the cornopean at once, notwithstanding the loud-voiced remonstrances from all sides; and the crowd scattered away from the close, the eleven all going into the School-house, where supper and beds were provided by the Doctor's orders.

Deep had been the consultations at supper as to the order of going in, who should bowl the first over,[11] whether it would be best to play steady or freely; and the youngest hands declared that they shouldn't be a bit nervous, and praised their opponents as the jolliest fellows in the world, except, perhaps, their old friends, the Wellesburn men.

How far a little good-nature from their elders will go with the right sort of boys!

[11] #Over#: a certain number of b.a.l.l.s pitched in succession from one side.

The morning had dawned bright and warm, to the intense relief of many an anxious youngster, up betimes to mark the signs of the weather. The eleven went down in a body before breakfast for a plunge in the cold bath in the corner of the close. The ground was in splendid order, and soon after ten o'clock, before spectators had arrived, all was ready, and two of the Lord's men took their places at the wicket; the School, with the usual liberality of young hands, having put their adversaries in first. Old Bailey stepped up to the wicket, and called play, and the match has begun.

THE MARYLEBONE MATCH.

"Oh, well bowled! well bowled, Johnson!" cries the captain, catching up the ball and sending it high above the rook-trees, while the third Marylebone man walks away from the wicket, and old Bailey gravely sets up the middle stump[12] again and puts the bails[13] on.

[12] #Middle stump#: the middle stake of a wicket.

[13] #Bails#: two small, round sticks laid across the top of a wicket.

"How many runs?" Away scamper three boys to the scoring-table,[14] and are back again in a minute amongst the rest of the eleven, who are collected together in a knot between wickets.

[14] #Scoring-table#: a table where the reckoning of the game is kept.

"Only eighteen runs, and three wickets down!"

"Huzzah for old Rugby!" sings out Jack Raggles, the long-stop,[15]

toughest and burliest of boys, commonly called "Swiper Jack";[16] and forthwith stands on his head and brandishes his legs in the air in triumph, till the next boy catches hold of his heels and throws him over on his back.

[15] #Long-stop#: a person who stands behind the wicket-keeper to stop the b.a.l.l.s that escape him.

[16] #Swiper Jack#: hard-hitting Jack.

"Steady there; don't be such an a.s.s, Jack," says the captain; "we haven't got the best wicket. Ah, look out now at cover-point,"[17]

adds he, as he sees a long-armed, bare-headed, slashing-looking player coming to the wicket. "And, Jack, mind your hits; he steals more runs than any man in England."

[17] #Cover-point#: the person who stops a ball or the act of stopping it.

And they all find that they have got their work to do now; the new-comer's off-hitting is tremendous, and his running like a flash of lightning. He is never in his ground, except when his wicket is down.

Nothing in the whole game so trying to boys; he has stolen three byes[18] in the first ten minutes, and Jack Raggles is furious, and begins throwing over savagely to the further wicket, until he is sternly stopped by the captain. It is all that young gentleman can do to keep his team[19] steady, but he knows that everything depends on it, and faces his work bravely. The score creeps up to fifty, the boys begin to look blank, and the spectators, who are now mustering strong, are very silent. The ball flies off his bat to all parts of the field, and he gives no rest and no catches to any one. But cricket is full of glorious chances, and the G.o.ddess who presides over it loves to bring down the most skilful players. Johnson, the young bowler, is getting wild; and bowls a ball almost wide to the off;[20] the batter steps out and cuts it beautifully to where cover-point is standing very deep; in fact, almost off the ground. The ball comes skimming and twisting along about three feet from the ground; he rushes at it, and it sticks somehow or other in the fingers of his left hand, to the utter astonishment of himself and the whole field.

[18] #Byes#: runs on b.a.l.l.s that have pa.s.sed the wicket-keeper.

[19] #Team#: one of the parties or sides in a game.

[20] #Off#: to the right of the batsman.

Such a catch hasn't been made in the close for years, and the cheering is maddening. "Pretty cricket," says the captain, throwing himself on the ground by the deserted wicket, with a long breath; he feels that a crisis has past.

I wish I had s.p.a.ce to describe the match; how the captain stumped the next man off a leg-shooter,[21] and bowled small cobs[22] to old Mr.

Aislabie, who came in for the last wicket. How the Lord's men were out by half-past twelve o'clock for ninety-eight runs. How the captain of the School eleven went in first to give his men pluck, and scored twenty-five in beautiful style; how Rugby was only four behind in the first innings[23] What a glorious dinner they had in the fourth-form School, and how the cover-point hitter sang the most topping[24] comic songs, and old Mr. Aislabie made the best speeches that ever were heard, afterward. But I haven't s.p.a.ce, that's the fact, and so you must fancy it all and carry yourselves on to half-past seven o'clock, when the School are again in, with five wickets down, and only thirty-two runs to make to win. The Marylebone men played carelessly in their second innings, but they are working like horses now to save the match.

[21] #Stumped off a leg-shooter#: perhaps to put a man out of play by knocking down his wicket.

[22] #Cobs#: b.a.l.l.s peculiarly bowled.

[23] #Innings#: turns for using the bat.

[24] #Topping#: wonderful.

SOME OLD FRIENDS.

There is much healthy, hearty, happy life scattered up and down the close; but the group to which I beg to call your special attention is there on the slope of the island, which looks toward the cricket-ground. It consists of three figures: two are seated on the bench, and one on the ground at their feet. The first, a tall, slight, and rather gaunt man, with a bushy eyebrow, and a dry, humorous smile, is evidently a clergyman. He is carelessly dressed, and looks rather used up, which isn't much to be wondered at, seeing that he has just finished six weeks of examination work: but there he basks, and spreads himself out in the evening sun, bent on enjoying life, though he doesn't quite know what to do with his arms and legs. Surely it is our friend the young master, whom we have had glimpses of before, but his face has gained a great deal since we last came across him.

And by his side, in white flannel shirt and trousers, straw hat, the captain's belt, and the untanned yellow cricket-shoes which all the eleven wear, sits a strapping figure, near six feet high, with ruddy tanned face and whiskers, curly brown hair, and a laughing, dancing eye. He is leaning forward, with his elbows resting on his knees, and dandling his favorite bat, with which he has made thirty or forty runs to-day, in his strong brown hands. It is Tom Brown, grown into a young man nineteen years old, a praepostor and captain of the eleven, spending his last day as a Rugby boy, and let us hope as much wiser as he is bigger since we last had the pleasure of coming across him.

And at their feet on the warm dry ground, similarly dressed, sits Arthur, Turkish fashion, with his bat across his knees. He, too, is no longer a boy, less of a boy in fact than Tom, if one may judge from the thoughtfulness of his face, which is somewhat paler, too, than one could wish; but his figure, though slight, is well knit and active, and all his old timidity has disappeared, and is replaced by silent quaint fun, with which his face twinkles all over, as he listens to the broken talk between the other two, in which he joins now and then.

All three are watching the game eagerly, and joining in the cheering that follows every good hit. It is pleasing to see the easy friendly footing which the pupils are on with their master, perfectly respectful, yet with no reserve and nothing forced in their intercourse. Tom has clearly abandoned the old theory of "natural enemies" in this case at any rate.

THEIR TALK.

But it is time to listen to what they are saying, and see what we can gather out of it.

"I don't object to your theory," says the master, "and I allow you have made a fair case for yourself. But, now, in such books as Aristophanes, for instance, you've been reading a play this half with the Doctor, haven't you?"

"Yes, 'The Knights,'"[25] answered Tom.

[25] #"The Knights"#: a Greek comedy by Aristoph'anes.

"Well, I'm sure you would have enjoyed the wonderful humor of it twice as much if you had taken more pains with your scholarship."

"Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form enjoyed the set-tos[26] between Cleon and the sausage-seller more than I did--eh, Arthur?" said Tom, giving him a stir with his foot.