Anonymous: Memoirs of a Voluptuary, or the Secret Life of an English Boarding School

At the close of the first volume of my memoirs, I found that there were many more tales to recount and decided to continue in my efforts to pen my nostalgic recollections.

It may be objected that my memory could not possibly be sufficient enough to write a truthful journal of what happened a considerable number of years ago. This would be perfectly true were I to attempt to proceed in portraying the events of my earlier years from day to day; but in regards to what I have already written, I am able to vouch for it's entire correctness. The doings and happenings of my first weeks at school being impressed upon my memory with remarkable clarity.

In respect to Gaston de Beaupre's tales, it will probably be thought, how can I retain such a precise remembrance of these as would be necessary if they are not to be regarded as figments of my own imagination? In answer to this charge I readily admit that no doubt the words and phrases have undergone some changes in the course of transcription by me, but I have endeavored to retain as far as my mind will serve me on looking back, the general style of the narration as he delivered them to us.

When I left off in my first volume, I had made mention of some unpleasant lads going by the names Davenport and Lawrence and often enough followed by Davenport Junior in giggling tow. These lads had taken it upon themselves to make the lives of some of the other boys in their dormitory quite unpleasant, and as I have recounted, I too was at times the object of their cruel play.

The next day being Saturday and a half holiday, Bob Rutherford (being the eldest and therefore the leader of my bedchamber quartet, which also included the young Duke Jimmy Marmot, and the aforementioned Gaston de Beaupre or “Blackie” as we fondly called him, as well as myself, Charlie Powerscourt) proposed as we were dressing that we should go as far as the sea, which was only a matter of about two miles and a half from the school. We all greeted the suggestion with warm approval, and I especially looked forward to it, as I had never had an opportunity of looking upon the ocean.

During the morning we met Williams and asked him if anything had happened in his dormitory the night before.

“Davenport started on Elgar again,” he replied. “He tied his hands behind his back and made him stand up against the fireplace with nothing on till we had all undressed, and then he and Lawrence began to take turns tweaking his cock and balls. And I mean to say they were not going gently! I called out to them to leave Elgar alone and then they were coming for me, but I said that if they touched me, I would shout until someone came, and that stopped them.

“They knew that they would get into a bother if anyone found them out and seeing that they were a bit startled, I got up and ran to the door. I held this open and told Benson to go and loosen Elgar and put him to bed. Davenport got into a towering rage and called me names, but I didn't care, only telling him that if he tried any more nonsense, I would go straight to Chadwick and bring him in, as we had made up our minds not to put up with his bullying any longer, or let him keep on pitching into Elgar.

“He got quite white with passion, but Lawrence slunk back to bed and advised him to do the same, so we had our own way, and Elgar got some peace for the rest of the night.”

“You did splendidly,” exclaimed Bob. “You are a brick, Williams. If you go on like that, you won't have any more trouble with Davenport. But I am going to talk to him myself this evening and that will settle it once and for all.”

We had arranged to start away for the sea directly after lunch, but before leaving I saw Williams again. He had his cap on and I asked him where he was going.

“Davenport said he was going for a walk with Lawrence, and he told Sturges, Benson, Elgar and me that he should want us to come as well. He was very cunning and mentioned the thing to Mr. Chadwick. However, Davenport seemed nicer somehow to us all at once, and he actually told Elgar he hoped he hadn't hurt him with his games. I don't know what has come over him, but perhaps he sees that he has been going it a little too strong. I hope so, anyway, as I am sure we don't want to make any bother, and if he only played ordinary jokes on us, we wouldn't say a word.”

“I shall be awfully glad if you are right,” I said, “although it might be that he has got an inkling of Rutherford's being about to take the matter up.”

“I heard Davenport say something about the sea, but I am not quite sure,” Williams told us.

“Really,” I exclaimed. “That's where we are going. Perhaps we might see you then.”

Shortly after this, we set out for our walk, striking across the fields and through the woodlands in a direct course for the sea. It was a beautifully clear day at the end of May, the air was quite hot and everything breathed of summer in this favored part of the land.

The trees were in full leaf, the meadows were sheets of wild flowers and our ears were filled with the songs of the birds and the babbling music of the many brooks for which “Fair Devon” is noted.

Bright colored moths and butterflies, flitted and hovered before us, and the multitudinous sights and sounds of the country broke in upon me with a pleasurable effect, which combined with the happy freedom of the moment, the joy of existence forced itself upon my consciousness more keenly than it had ever done before and I raised my voice in a merry, lilting song.

“Charlie is in good spirits today, isn't he,” cried Jimmy.

“Yes,” replied Bob, with a smile, “but he had better be careful how he airs his notes, or Mr. Percival will be capturing him for the chair.”

On we went, trudging through the long grass and picking our way amid the moss-grown trunks of the trees, until our further progress was barred by a rivulet too broad for us to leap. We walked slowly along the bank, seeking a convenient place to cross without getting wet.

“There are a lot of fish in here, I am sure,” said Jimmy, climbing out on a fern draped boulder that overhung the stream and peering into the crystal depths below.

We looked but only caught the reflection of the Duke's mirrored face on the placid surface of the water.

“All that I can see down there, is you, Jimmy,” said Bob. “I say, you chaps, he looks just like that fellow we were reading about in the class the other day – Narcissus, you know; who caught sight of his face in a river once, and thought himself so pretty that he couldn't take his eyes away, and fell in and got drowned!”

“Shut your mouth, you ass!” replied Jimmy, trying to look annoyed. “There you are; I told you there were some fish here; I can see lots.”

“Well, it doesn't matter,” exclaimed de Beaupre “we haven't got anything to catch them with, so they can stop.”

Not very much farther on, the stream narrowed and there were big stones in it which enabled us to cross easily. The ground began to rise towards the cliffs which faced the sea, but Bob took us through a path leading into a picturesque, winding gorge, carpeted with short grass and decked with a profusion of creepers and shrubs, down which a tiny river ran in a succession of little waterfalls and rapids on its way to the ocean. It turned at the end and we emerged straight for the shore.

Before us stretched the broad expanse of the sea, its deep blue surface agitated by a gentle ripple and shining bright beneath the beams of the afternoon sun.

Behind rose a tall bulwark of perpendicular cliffs, their scarped and rugged surface ornamented with a drapery of lichens and climbing plants, which found foothold in every nook and cranny.