The Willoughby Captains - Reed Talbot Baines (книги бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

Instantly the whole crowd seemed to resolve itself by magic into two parties, and a short but desperate battle ensued.

The fire had been waiting for weeks for a match, and now the flare-up had come. Nobody knew whom he hit out at or by whom he was attacked that forenoon. The pent-up irritation of half a term found vent in that famous battle in which the schoolhouse boys fought their way inch by inch up to the door of their house.

Luckily for them, the most formidable of their rivals were not upon the field of action, and in due time the compact phalanx of seniors, aided by Wyndham and his band of recruits, forced their way through superior numbers, and finally burst triumphantly through and gained their stronghold.

But the victory was hardly bought, for the slaughter had been great.

Coates had a black eye, and Porter’s jacket was torn from his back. Riddell had twice been knocked down and trodden on, while Wyndham, Telson, and others of the rescuing party were barely recognisable through dust and bruises. On the other side the loss had been even greater. Tucker and Wibberly, the only two monitors engaged, were completely doubled up, while the number of maimed and disabled Limpets and juniors was nearly beyond counting.

So ended the great battle at the school gate, and it ended only just in time, for as the schoolhouse boys finally gained their quarters, and the enemy picked itself up and turned surlily schoolwards, the doctor and his party arrived on the scene and gave a finishing touch to the rout.

That evening was a sore one for Willoughby. Sore not only in respect of bruised bodies and swollen faces, but still more in the sense of disappointment, suspicion, and foul play.

Among the most violent of the Parrett’s the whole mystery of the thing was perfectly clear. These philosophers could see it all from beginning to end, and were astonished any one else should be so dull as not to see it too.

“Of course, it’s a regularly arranged thing,” said Wibberly, whose face was enveloped in a handkerchief and whose lips were unusually thick. “They’ve vowed all along to keep their boat at the head of the river, and they’ve managed it.”

“Yes,” said another. “They knew what they had to expect if Bloomfield got there. I can see it all.”

“But you don’t mean to say,” said Strutter, “the Premier,” “that you think any one of those fellows would do such a thing as cut our rope?”

“I don’t know,” said Wibberly. “I don’t see why they shouldn’t. I don’t fancy they’d stick at a trifle, the cads!”

“If Gilks had been in the boat,” said another, “I could have believed it of him, but he was as anxious for us to win as we were ourselves.”

“No wonder; he and his friend Silk have been betting right and left on us, I hear.”

“Well, I suppose there’s bound to be a new race,” said Strutter.

“I don’t know,” replied Wibberly. “I’d be just as well pleased if Bloomfield refused. The vile cheats!”

Bloomfield, be it said to his credit, was no party to these reckless accusations. Mortified as he was beyond description, and disappointed by the collapse of his ambition, he yet scouted the idea of any one of his five rivals being guilty of so dirty a trick as the cutting of his boat’s rudder-line. At the same time he was as convinced as any one that foul play had been at the bottom of the accident, and the perpetrator of the mean act was undoubtedly a schoolhouse boy. What mortified him most was that he did not feel as positive by any means as others that his boat, without the accident, would have won the race. He had been astonished and even disheartened by the performance of the rival crew, who had stuck to him in a manner he had not looked for, and which had boded seriously for the final result.

It was this reflection, more even than the thought of the broken line, which troubled him that evening. Could it be possible that his luck was deserting him?

His companions were troubled by no such suggestion. Indignation was the uppermost feeling in their breasts. Whoever had done the deed, it was a vile action, and till the culprit was brought to justice the whole schoolhouse was responsible in their eyes.

“I wonder a single one of them can hold up his head,” exclaimed Game.

“I hope to goodness Bloomfield won’t demand a fresh race. I won’t row if he does,” said Ashley.

“And the worst of it is they’ll try to make out now they would have won in any case. I heard one of them say so myself this very afternoon.”

“Let them say what they like,” said Ashley. “Nobody will believe them.”

Perhaps these hot-headed heroes, had they been able to overhear a conversation that was going on at that very time in the captain’s study, would have discovered that at any rate it was not the immediate intention of the schoolhouse to insist that the victory was theirs.

Riddell had recovered somewhat from his rough handling that afternoon, but he looked pale and dejected as, along with his friend Fairbairn, he sat and discussed for the twentieth time the event of the day.

“It’s quite evident we must offer them a fresh race,” said he.

“Yes, I think so,” said Fairbairn. “It’s hard lines, for I expect it won’t be easy to get our men up to the mark again after they are once run down.”

“We can’t help that,” said Riddell. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Of course. But I don’t see, Riddell, old man, that we are bound to hang down our heads over this business. Whoever did it did as mean a trick to us as ever he did to them. I’d like to have him a minute or two, even if he was my own brother.”

“Well,” said Riddell, “to my mind it seems like a disgrace to the whole house, and the least we can do is to offer to row again.”

“Oh, rather; that’s settled. I say,” added Fairbairn, “I’d give anything to get at the bottom of it. I saw the boats locked up last night, and I was there when they were taken out this morning. I can’t imagine how it was done.”

“It seemed a clean cut, didn’t it?”

“Yes; about three-quarters of the way through. Whoever did it must have been up to his business, for he only touched the right cord on which all the strain comes at the corner.”

“It must have been done between five o’clock yesterday and this morning,” said Riddell. “If the cut had been there yesterday the line would have given at the corner to a certainty.”

“Oh, yes; it must have been done in the night.”

“Doesn’t the boatman know anything about it?”

“No; I asked him. He says no one opened the door after the boats had gone in except himself and the boat-boy.”

“It’s horribly mysterious,” said Riddell. “But, I say, hadn’t we better offer the new race at once?”

“All serene.”

“Had we better write?” asked Riddell.

“No; why? What’s the use of looking ashamed?” said Fairbairn; “let’s go to them. Bloomfield’s sure to be in his study.”

The two boys went accordingly, and found the Parrett’s captain in his study along with Game and Ashley. It was rarely indeed that the schoolhouse seniors penetrated uninvited into the headquarters of their rivals. But on this occasion they had a right cause at heart and honest consciences to back them.

But it was evident at a glance they had fallen on unfriendly society. Game, quite apart from his state of mind with regard to the accident, had not forgotten his repulse at the hands of the new captain a week or two ago, nor had Bloomfield quite got over the indirect snub he had received on the same occasion.

Riddell himself had almost forgotten the circumstance, and attributed the unencouraging aspect of the rival seniors entirely to the day’s misadventure.

“Excuse us coming over,” said he, feeling that a beginning must be made to the interview, “but we wanted to tell you how sorry our fellows are about the race.”

“Have you found out who did it?” asked Bloomfield.