Читать книгу Percival Keene - Фредерик Марриет - Страница 6

When my aunt Milly called me in the morning, that I might be up and have my breakfast in time for school, I felt as if two years had passed over my head during the last twenty-four hours. I had never witnessed tyranny until the day before, and my blood was heated with indignation: I felt myself capable of anything and everything.

My anger was about as great towards my mother and grandmother for having sent me to such a place, as it was against Mr O’Gallagher. Instead of going up and kissing my mother, I paid no attention to either her or my grandmother, much to the mortification of the former and surprise of the latter, who said, in a very cross manner, “Where’s your manners, child? why don’t you say good morning?”

“Because I have not been long enough at school to learn manners, granny.”

“Come and kiss me before you go, my child,” said my mother.

“No, mother; you have sent me to school to be beat, and I never will kiss you again.”

“Naughty, good-for-nothing boy!” exclaimed my granny; “what a bad heart you must have.”

“No, that he has not,” cried my aunt Milly. “Sister should have inquired what sort of a school it was before she sent him.”

“I made every inquiry,” replied my granny; “he can’t play tricks there.”

“Won’t I?” cried I, “but I will; and not only there but here. I’ll be even with you all; yes, I’ll be even with you, granny, if I die for it.”

“Why, you audacious wretch, I’ve great a mind to—”

“I dare say you have, but recollect I can bite; you’d better be quiet, granny, or, as the master says, ‘it will end in a blow-up.’”

“Only hear the little wretch,” said my granny, lifting up her hands; “I shall see you hanged yet, you ungrateful child.”

“I’m not ungrateful,” replied I, throwing my arms round Milly’s neck, and kissing her with fervour; “I can love those who love me.”

“Then you don’t love me?” said my mother, reproachfully.

“I did yesterday, but I don’t now; but it’s time for me to go, aunt; is my basket ready? I don’t want father to take me to school, I can do without him, and when I don’t choose to go any more, I won’t; recollect that, mother.” So saying, I seized my basket and quitted the room. There was a long consultation, I found, after my departure: my mother, when my aunt had informed her of Mr O’Gallagher’s conduct, wished to remove me instantly; my grandmother insisted upon it that there was not a word of truth in what I had said, and threatened that if I did not remain at that very school, she would leave Chatham, and take my aunt with her. As my mother could not part with aunt Milly, the consequence was, that my grandmother gained the day.

I arrived in good time, and took my seat near my master. I preferred doing this, as I had had a long conversation with Captain Bridgeman who told me that although Mr O’Gallagher had put the ruler down as punishment Number 1, the ferrule Number 2, and the birch as Number 3, and of course they were considered to be worse as the number rose, that he considered it to be the very contrary, as he had had them all well applied when he was at school; he ordered me, therefore, never to hold out my hand to the ferrule, by which refusal I should, of course, be flogged; but he assured me that the birch, especially when it is given often, was a mere nothing. Now I considered that the surest way to avoid the ruler was to sit close to my master, who could then have no pretence for sending it at my head; the fact was I had determined to save the more noble portions of my body, and leave Mr O’Gallagher to do what he pleased with the other: to do him justice, he lost no time.

“Come here, Mr Keene,” said he, “where’s your manners? why don’t you say good morning to your preceptor? Can you read at all?”

“No, sir.”

“D’ye know your letters?”

“Some of them—I think I do, sir.”

“Some of them—I suppose about two out of six-and-twenty. It’s particular attention that’s been paid to your education, I perceive; you’ve nothing to unlearn anyhow, that’s something. Now, sir, do you think that a classical scholar and a gentleman born, like me, is to demane myself by hearing you puzzle at the alphabet? You’re quite mistaken, Mr Keene, you must gain your first elements second-hand; so where’s Thimothy Ruddel? You, Timothy Ruddel, you’ll just teach this young Master Keene his whole alphabet, and take care, at the same time, that you know your own lessons, or it will end in a blow-up; and you, Master Keene, if you have not larnt your whole alphabet perfect by dinner time, why you’ll have a small taste of Number 2, just as a hint to what’s coming next. Go along, you little ignorant blackguard; and you, Timothy Ruddel, look out for a taste of Number 3, if you don’t larn him and yourself all at once, and at the same time.”

I was very well pleased with this arrangement; I had resolved to learn, and I was doubly stimulated to learn now, to save poor Timothy Ruddel from an unjust punishment.

In the three hours I was quite perfect, and Timothy Ruddel, who was called up before me, was also able to say his lesson without a blunder very much to the disappointment of Mr O’Gallagher, who observed, “So you’ve slipped through my fingers, have you, this time, Master Timothy? Never mind, I’ll have you yet; and, moreover, there’s Master Keene to go through the fiery furnace.” Just before dinner time I was called up; with my memory of many of the letters, and the assistance I had received from Timothy Ruddel, I felt very confident.

“What letter’s that, sir?” said Mr O’Gallagher.

“A B C D E.”

“You little blackguard, I’ll dodge you; you think to escape, you?”

“V, X, P, O.”

Much to Mr O’Gallagher’s surprise I said them all without one mistake. Instead of commendation I received abuse. “By all the powers,” exclaimed my pedagogue, “but everything seems to go wrong to-day; my hand has been completely idle; this will never do; didn’t you tell me, Mr Keene, that you didn’t know your letters?”

“I said I knew some of them, sir.”

“If my memory is correct, Mr Keene, you told me that you knew two out of twenty-six.”

“No, sir, you said that.”

“That’s just as much as to tell me, your preceptor, a classical scholar, and a Milesian gentleman to boot, that I lie, for which I intend to have satisfaction, Mr Keene, I assure you. You’re guilty in two counts, as they say at the Old Bailey, where you’ll be called up to some of these days, as sure as you stand there; one count is in telling me a lie, in saying you did not know your alphabet, when it’s quite clear that you did; and, secondly, in giving me the lie, by stating that I said what you said. You thought to escape me, but you’re mistaken, Mr Keene; so now, if you please, we will just have a taste of Number 2. Hould out your hand, Mr Keene: d’ye hear me sir? hould out your hand.”

But this I positively refused to do. “You won’t, won’t you? Well, then, we must increase the punishment for our contempt of court, and at once commence with Number 3, which we intended to reserve till to-morrow. Come along, Phil Mooney, there’s fresh mate for you to carry, and come out Number 3, here’s fresh ground for you to travel over.”

Phil Mooney and the birch soon made their appearance: I was hoisted by the one and scourged by the other.

The first taste of the birch is anything but agreeable; I could only compare it to the dropping of molten lead. I tried all I could to prevent crying out, but it was impossible, and at last I roared like a mad bull; and I was as mad as a bull, and as dangerous. Could I have picked up any weapon at the moment that I was dropped from the shoulders of Phil Mooney, it would have gone hard with Mr O’Gallagher. My rage was greater than my agony. I stood when I had been landed, my chest heaving, my teeth set fast, and my apparel still in disorder. The school was dismissed, and I was left alone with the savage pedagogue, who immediately took up my basket, and began to rummage the contents.

“Make yourself decent, Mr Keene, and don’t be shocking my modesty, and taking away my appetite. Did you mention the mustard, as I desired you? Upon my faith, but you’re a nice boy and do justice to the representations of your grandmother, and when you see her you may tell her that I did not forget the promise she exacted from me. You forgot all about the mustard, you little blackguard. If Phil Mooney was here I would give you another taste to freshen your memory for to-morrow; however, to-morrow will do as well, if the mistake’s not corrected. Here, take your victuals, and good appetite to you, you little monster of iniquity.”

Mr O’Gallagher tossed me some bread but this time reserved the cheese for his own eating. I had adjusted my dress, and I therefore left the school-room. I could not sit down without pain, so I leant against a post: the bread remained in my hand untouched; had it been the greatest delicacy in the world I could not have tasted a morsel; I was giddy from excess of feeling, my thoughts were rapidly chasing each other when I heard a voice close to me; I looked round, it was Walter Puddock, who had been flogged the day before.

“Never mind, Keene,” said he, kindly; “it hurts at first, but the more you get it the less you care for it; I don’t mind it a bit now; I cries, because he goes on flogging till you do, and it’s no use having more than you can help.”

“I didn’t deserve it,” replied I.

“That’s not necessary; you’ll get it, as we all do, whether you deserve it or not.”

“Well, I’ll try to deserve it in future,” replied I, clenching my fist; “I’ll be even with him.”

“Why, what can you do?”

“Wait a little, and you’ll see,” said I, walking away, for an idea had come into my head which I wished to follow up.

Soon afterwards the bell rang, and we returned to the schoolroom. I was put under the tuition of another boy, and took care to learn my lesson. Whether it was that he was tired with the exercise, for he flogged and ferruled a dozen during that afternoon, or that he thought that my morning dose had been sufficient, I received no more punishment on that day.