Talbot Reed - The Willoughby Captains

“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!”

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.

“The doctor never expels fellows for fighting.”

“But he will when he finds out all this other business,” said Silk.

“I really can’t help that,” said the captain, not quite seeing how the two offences were involved one with another.

“It’s bound to come out,” continued Silk, “and Gilks will bring me into it too. I say, can’t you get back the names?”

“Certainly not,” said the captain.

“You were glad enough to hush it all up when you thought it was young Wyndham had done it,” said Silk.

The captain winced, and Silk was quick enough to see it.

“You profess to be fair and honest. Do you call it fair to shelter one fellow because he’s your friend, and tell about another because he isn’t? Eh, Riddell?”

It was not a bad move on Silk’s part. The question thrust home, and had he been content to leave the matter there, it might have been some time before the captain, with his own scrupulous way of regarding things, would have detected its fallacies. But, not for the first time, Silk overdid it.

“Besides,” said he, seeing he had made an impression, and foolishly thinking to follow it up—“besides, young Wyndham’s a long way from being out of the wood himself yet. Of course I don’t want to do it, but I could make it rather awkward for him if I chose.”

The captain fired up scornfully, but Silk did not notice it, and continued, “You wouldn’t like to see him expelled, would you? If I were to tell all I know about him, he would be, to a certainty.”

Riddell, on whom these incautious words had acted with a result wholly different from what was intended, could scarcely contain himself to talk coolly as he replied, “Please leave my room. I don’t want you here.” Silk looked round in a startled way at the words, and his face changed colour.

“What?” he demanded. “Please leave my room,” replied the captain. “Not till you promise to get back the names.”

“I shall do nothing of the sort.”

“You won’t? You know the consequence?” Riddell said nothing. “I shall tell of Wyndham,” said Silk. “Please leave my room,” once more said the captain. Silk glared at him, and took a step forward as though he meant to try one last method for extorting the promise.

But Riddell stood his ground boldly, and the spirit of the bully faltered.

“You’ll be sorry for it,” snarled the latter. Riddell said nothing, but waited patiently for him to go. Seeing that nothing more was to be gained, and baffled on all points — even on the point where he made sure of having his enemy, Silk turned on his heel and went, slamming the door viciously behind him.

Riddell had rarely felt such a sense of relief as he experienced on being thus left to himself.

The suddenness of Silk’s disclosure and the strange way in which it had been followed up had disconcerted him. But now he had time to think calmly over the whole affair.

And two things seemed pretty clear. One was that, strange as it seemed, there must be something in Silk’s story. He could hardly have invented it and stuck to it in the way he had for no other purpose than embarrassing the captain; and the pressure he had applied to get Riddell to withdraw the names before the doctor saw them, confirmed this idea.

The other point made clear was that his duty, at whatever cost, even at the cost of young Wyndham himself, was to report the fight and make no terms with the offenders. If the result was what Silk threatened, he could only hope the doctor would deal leniently with the boy.

One other thing was clear too. He must see both Wyndham and Bloomfield in the morning.

With which resolve, and not without a prayer for wisdom better than his own to act in this crisis, he retired to bed.

Early next morning, before almost any sign of life showed itself in Willoughby, the captain was up and dressed.

The magic that so often attends on a night’s sleep had done its work on him, and as he walked across the quadrangle that fresh summer morning his head was clear and his mind made up.

The outer door of the schoolhouse was still unopened, and he paced outside, as it seemed to him, for half an hour before he could get in.

He went at once to Wyndham’s study, and found that young athlete arraying himself in his cricket flannels.

“Hullo, Riddell!” cried he, as the captain entered; “have you come to see the practice? We’re going to play a scratch match with some of the seniors. You play too, will you?”

The captain did not reply to this invitation, and his serious face convinced Wyndham something must be wrong.

“What’s up, I say?” he inquired, looking concerned.

“Nothing very pleasant,” said Riddell. “You heard of the fight last night?”

“Eh? between Silk and Gilks? Yes. I half guessed it would come to that. They’ve been quarrelling a lot lately.”

“I reported them, and they are to go to the doctor’s after breakfast,” said Riddell.

“They’ll catch it, I expect,” said Wyndham. “Paddy’s sure to be down on them because they’re seniors.”

“They expect to catch it. At least, Silk says so. He came to me last night and tried to get me to withdraw the names. And when I said I couldn’t be threatened to tell about you, and get you into a row.”

Wyndham’s face changed colour.

“What? I say, do you think he really will?” he exclaimed.

“I think it’s very likely,” said the captain.

“Of course, you can’t withdraw the names?” said the boy.

“I’ve no right to do it — no, I can’t,” replied the captain.

“Oh, of course. But I say, what had I better do?” faltered the boy. “I hoped that bother was all over.”

“I would advise you to go to the doctor before chapel and tell him yourself.”

The boy’s face fell.

“How can I? I promised I wouldn’t, and Silk wouldn’t let me off when I asked him.”

“But he is going to tell of you, he says. You had much better let the doctor hear it from you than from him.”

“If only I could!” exclaimed the boy; “but how can I?”

“I don’t want to persuade you to break a promise,” said the captain, “but I’m sorry for it.”