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

“Yes, I know,” said Gilks.

“And you know what I shall do?”

“Yes, you’ll tell—”

Silk’s face fell. He was beginning to discover that once more he had overdone his part, and that the ground was taken from under him. But he made one last effort to recover himself.

“I say, Gilks,” said he, half coaxing, half warning, “don’t be a fool. Don’t ruin yourself. I didn’t mean to be offensive. You know it’s as much in your interest as mine. If we can get hold of young Wyndham again—”

“If you want him, get him yourself, I’m not going to do it,” once more said Gilks, with pale face and clenched teeth.

Silk’s manner changed once more. His face became livid, and his eyes flashed, as he sprang at Gilks, and with a sudden blow, exclaimed, “Take that, then!”

It was as good as proclaiming that the game was over. As Gilks’s guilty confidant he had retained to the last some sort of influence; but now, with that blow, the last shred of his superiority had gone, and he stood there beaten before ever the fight began.

Gilks had expected the blow, but had not been prepared for its suddenness. It struck him full on the cheek, and for a moment staggered him — but only for a moment. Wasting no words, he returned it vehemently, and next moment the fight had begun.

That fight was not the growth of a day or a week. For many weeks it had been getting nearer and nearer, sometimes by rapid strides, sometimes by imperceptible steps; but always getting nearer, until now it had suddenly reached its climax; and the cry, “A fight — Gilks and Silk!” spread like wildfire over Willoughby.

The Welchers, in the heyday of their triumph, heard it above even the chorus of the glorious Bouncer; and hearing it, forsook their revelry and hurried towards it. The Parretts quitted their melancholy teapot, and rushed with one accord to the spot. And ere they reached it Telson was there, and many a schoolhouse Limpet, and Game, and Ashley, and Wibberly, from Parrett’s; and Tucker, and I know not what crowds from Welch’s. And they crowded round, and took sides, and speculated on the result, and cheered impartially every hit.

Far be it from me to describe that fight. It was no different from twenty other fights that same term, except from the one fact that the combatants were seniors. No one cared an atom about the quarrels or its merits. It was quite enough that it was an even match — that there was plenty of straight hitting and smart parrying, and that it lasted over a quarter of an hour.

It was a wonder it lasted so long. Not that the men could not stay, but because no monitor with power to stop it appeared on the scene. Indeed, the only monitor present was Gilks himself, and he took no steps to end the conflict.

At length, however, while the result was still undecided, a cry of “Cave!” was raised.

“Look out, here’s Riddell!” cried some small boy.

A round was just beginning, and neither combatant evinced any desire to desist on account of the captain’s approach.

Riddell was not alone, Fairbairn was with him, and, being naturally attracted by the crowd and shouting, they both hurried up in time to see the end of the round.

As soon as it was over they pushed their way in among the crowd and entered the ring.

“Stop the fight!” said Riddell.

The two combatants glared at him angrily, and Gilks replied, “Who says so?”

“I say so,” said Riddell, quietly.

The days were long gone by when the captain issued his orders in an apologetic voice and a diffident manner. He had learned enough during this term to discover the value of a little self-confidence, and had profited by the discovery. Willoughby was far more docile to an order than to a request, and on the present occasion neither Gilks nor Silk seemed disposed to argue the matter.

They put on their jackets sulkily, and, without further words to one another or to the monitors, betook their battered selves to their several quarters.

Willoughby, perceiving that the matter was at an end, also dispersed and returned to its several quarters. The Welchers resumed their interrupted revel with unabated rejoicing; the melancholy Parretts called for more hot water to eke out the consolations of their teapot; the Limpets turned in again to their preparation, and the seniors to their studies — every one criticising the fight, and wondering how it would have ended, but scarcely one troubling himself much about its merit, and less still about its consequences.

One of these consequences the principals in the engagement were not long in learning. A message arrived for each, before the evening was over, that they were reported to the doctor, and were to go to his room at nine next morning.

Silk did not get the message till late, as he had been absent most of the evening in Tucker’s study, who was an expert at repairing the damage incurred in a pugilistic encounter.

When about bedtime he returned to his own study and found the captain’s note lying on the table, he broke out into a state of fury which, to say the least of it, it was well there was no one at hand to witness.

Late as the hour was, he went at once to Riddell’s study.

Riddell was half-undressed as his visitor entered. “What do you want?” he inquired.

“I want you! Do you mean to say you’ve reported me to the doctor?”

“Of course. It was a fight. I’m bound to report it.”

“Bound to report it. You snivelling humbug! Have you sent the name up yet?”

“Why do you want to know?” said Riddell, who had ceased to be in bodily fear of Silk for some time past.

“Because I want to know. Have you sent it up?”

“I have.”

“All right, you’ll be sorry for it,” said Silk.

“I am sorry for it,” replied the captain.

Silk saw at a glance that the captain was not to be bullied, and changed his tone.

“I suppose you know,” said he, “we shall both be expelled?”

“The doctor doesn’t usually expel for fighting,” said the captain.

“Of course not. But you remember getting a note from me a little time ago.”

“From you? No; I never had a note from you.”

“What, not one telling you to go down and see Tom the boat-boy?”

“Was that from you?” exclaimed Riddell, in astonishment.

“Of course it was. And of course you know now what I mean.”

“I don’t. I could discover nothing,” said the captain.

“You mean to say you don’t know who cut the rudder-lines?”

“No; who?”

“Gilks!”

Chapter Thirty Three

A Treaty of Peace

The captain’s first impulse on receiving from Silk this astounding piece of information was to go at once to the schoolhouse and confront Gilks with his accuser.

But his second impulse was to doubt the whole story and look upon it as a mere fabrication got up in the vague hope of preventing him from reporting the fight to the doctor.

It was absurd to suppose Gilks had cut the rudder-lines. Not that it was an action of which he would be incapable. On that score the accusation was likely enough. But then, Riddell remembered, Gilks, though a schoolhouse boy, had all along been a strong partisan of the Parretts’ boat, and, ever since he had been turned out of his own boat, had made no secret of his hope that Parrett’s might win. He had even, if rumours spoke truly, lost money on the race. How was it likely, then, he would do such an absurd thing as cut the rudder-lines of the very boat he wanted to win, and on whose success he had even made a bet?

It was much more likely that Silk had made this wild charge for the sake of embarrassing the captain, and leading him to reconsider his determination to report the fight.

And what followed partly confirmed this idea.

“You don’t want to get both Gilks and me expelled?” said Silk, with a half-whine very different from his late bullying tones.