Chapter 11. Blackall's Revenge And Its Results

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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. BLACKALL'S REVENGE AND ITS RESULTS

Everybody remarked the sullen angry expression which Blackall's countenance bore after the event I have just described. When any of his associates talked to him about fagging, he frowned, and, putting out his lips, declared that there was no use attempting to coerce the young scamps, for that the advantage to be gained was not worth the trouble it would cost. This was very true, but at the same time it was not an opinion anybody would have expected from him. Whenever he met Bracebridge, he always looked at him with an expression of intense dislike, which he was at no pains to conceal.

The Christmas holidays were now approaching, and a long course of bad weather kept the boys in more than usual. They consequently amused themselves with their indoor exercises. Their broadswords and foils were constantly in their hands during their play-hours.

One day Ernest and Buttar were fencing together. They had been at first equally matched, but Ernest was never content unless he was perfect in every exercise he took up, and so he had practised and practised, and thought the matter over, till he could beat his friend thoroughly. Buttar took his defeats very good-naturedly.

"I cannot manage as you do, old fellow," he used to observe. "You always contrive to send my foil flying out of my hand when I fancy that I am going to play you some wonderful trick at which I have been practising away for the whole of the last week."

A match was just over when Blackall entered the fencing-room. His eye fell on Ernest. Just then something called Buttar out of the room, and Ernest was left without an antagonist.

"Come, young gentleman, you are both good fencers. Try a pass of arms together," said Mr Strutt, the fencing-master. "Oh, you must not draw back; I shall fancy you are afraid of each other if you do. Come, take your foils and begin."

Blackall hesitated. He had not exchanged a word with Ernest since the day he had received his flogging, and he hoped never to have to speak to him again.

"Perhaps Blackall would rather not fence with me, sir," observed Ernest to the fencing-master.

"Oh, nonsense, nonsense. Take up your foil and begin," was the answer he received.

"I am ready to fence with you. Come here in this corner of the room, out of the way," said Blackall suddenly.

Ernest followed him. He remarked that there was a peculiarly evil look in his eye. He did not, however, unfortunately, observe what he was about with his foil in the corner.

"Now, young gentlemen, attention," cried Mr Strutt to some of his pupils, whose exercise he was superintending, and the words Quarte, Tierce, Seconde, Demi-circle, Contre de Quarte, Contre de Tierce, and so on, were heard resounding through the room.

"Come, let us begin, and have no child's play," exclaimed Blackall with vehemence, throwing himself into the attitude to engage. He made several rapid passes, which Ernest parried dexterously. As he did so, he observed that his adversary's foil had no button on it. Still he thought that it was the result of accident; and as he had very little fear of Blackall's hitting him, he did not deign at first to take notice of it. Something, however, he observed in the expression of his opponent's eye made him doubt the wisdom of this delicacy.

"Blackall," he cried out, parrying a desperate thrust at his breast, your foil has no button. "Were you to hit me, you might injure me very much."

"What care I?" answered Blackall. "I'll pay my debts, depend on that. Take that--and that--and that!" As he spoke he lunged rapidly at Ernest, who as rapidly turned aside the point of his weapon. Still Blackall was no bad fencer, and Ernest had the greatest difficulty in defending himself. Now he had to guard against a straight thrust, now against a disengagement, now the beat and thrust, now the cut over the point, and now the double. He saw that it would be too dangerous to attack himself; indeed, his only wish was to disarm his adversary, and then to refuse to fence with him any longer. This Blackall seemed to suspect, and to be on his guard against, while his aim was too clearly to wound, if not to kill, his opponent. Ernest under these very trying circumstances kept perfectly cool. He had parried every thrust which Blackall had made, but the latter at length pressed him so hard that he had to retreat a few paces. Once more he stood his ground, and defended himself as before. As he did so, suddenly he felt his foot slip, and, while he was trying to recover himself, Blackall pressed in on him, and sent his foil completely through his shoulder. One of the boys had just before dropped a lump of grease, which had been the cause of the accident. Ernest felt himself borne backwards, and, before any one could catch him, he fell heavily to the ground. The blood flowed rapidly from the wound; a sickness came over him, and he fainted. Blackall pretended to be very much grieved at what had occurred; but the fencing-master, looking at him sternly, asked him how it was that he could use a foil without knowing that the button was off.

"And what is the meaning of this, let me ask?" he said, stooping down, and with his knife hooking out the end of a foil from a chink in the boards. "The point was broken off on purpose. You have tried to kill that young lad there. I know it; and I shall take you before the Doctor, and let him judge the case."

"What makes you say that?" asked Blackall, turning very pale. "Why should you suppose I should wish to hurt Bracebridge?"

"I know it--I know it," was the only answer he got, while Mr Strutt with several of the boys was engaged in lifting Ernest, and binding up his shoulder to stop the bleeding. Blackall knelt down to assist, but the fencing-master sternly ordered him to stand back.

"I will not trust you," he exclaimed. "You are a bad fellow! I believe it now. I see it all clearly. I ought not to have allowed such an one as you to fence with him. If he dies, you will be his murderer; remember that. You shall know the truth from me, at all events." Thus did the excitable but kind-hearted fencing-master run on.

As he and some of the boys were about to lift Ernest off the ground, to carry him upstairs, Monsieur Malin came in. When he had ascertained the state of affairs, he immediately sent off Buttar to summon the surgeon who attended the school, which it seemed no one else had thought of doing. The presence of a medical man would, he knew, save the Doctor a great deal of anxiety. Having done this he walked up to Blackall, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Things do not take place in this school without my hearing of them," he remarked. "Mr Strutt thinks you wounded Bracebridge on purpose. I believe that you are capable of any crime: but come with me to the Doctor; we will hear what judgment he pronounces on the subject."

Blackall would gladly have got away or shrunk into himself; but when he found that he had no channel of escape, he seemed to screw up his courage to face out boldly the charges brought against him.

It is a very unpleasant subject. I would rather not have had to describe Blackall and his misdeeds; but as his character is so odious, I hold him up as a warning to some not to imitate him, and to others to avoid, and on no account to trust to or to form any friendship with such a person when they meet him.

There was in the house a strong-room, in which occasionally very refractory boys were locked up. Confinement in it was looked upon with peculiar dislike, and considered a great disgrace. It was furnished with books and slates, and pens, ink, and paper, and the boy who was put in was always awarded a task, which he had to perform before he was let out. Any of the masters might put a boy in there, and incarceration in this place was the only punishment they were allowed to inflict on their own responsibility.

"There, go in there; translate and write out for me these five pages of English into French, and learn these fifty lines of Racine," said Monsieur Malin, as he put Blackall in, and, locking the door, took away the key. "I will report your conduct to the Doctor, and hear what he has to say to it."

Blackall was left in a great fright. He did not know what part of his conduct might be reported, and he felt conscious that he was guilty of many things which, if known, would cause him to be expelled. He knew also that Monsieur Malin would not excuse him his task, so he tried to get through with it; but all his efforts were in vain. He could do nothing, and his thoughts would turn to the act of which he had just been guilty. "I did not want to hurt him--I did not want to kill him," he said to himself; but each time that he said so conscience replied, "You did; you know you did. Cowardly mean-spirited revenge induced you to commit the act, and it shall not go unpunished."

The Doctor was not told of what had occurred till the medical man had arrived and examined Ernest's wound. He had him at once put to bed, and washed and dressed the wound, and then he gave him some cooling medicine, but he said that he must see him again before he would pronounce on the matter. He might not materially suffer, but it might prove to be a very dangerous wound. This report got about the school. Buttar, Bouldon, and poor Ellis, and many other boys, were deeply grieved when they heard it. During the evening there was much anxiety and excitement in the school.

It was generally reported that Blackall had endeavoured to kill Ernest; then that the wound had assumed a very dangerous aspect, that the surgeon was very anxious about him, and that there was very little hope of his recovery.

When the Doctor appeared in school in the evening his countenance was very grave, and he seemed grieved and anxious. He spoke very little, and it was observed that while he was reading prayers his voice faltered.

There were many sorrowful young hearts in the school that night; for another sadder report than the first got about, and it was believed that Ernest Bracebridge--the clever, the brave, the spirited one, whom all then acknowledged to be without a rival in the school--was dead.

Naturally, the late attempt to introduce fagging was discussed, and the part Bracebridge had taken in suppressing it was openly spoken of. Thus, not only did all the boys in the school learn all about it, but it came to the ears of the masters, and, finally, to those of the Doctor himself. Monsieur Malin had heard of it before, but he had judged it best to let things take their course. The Doctor, having gathered all the information he thought necessary, collected several witnesses, among whom were Buttar, Bouldon, and Ellis, and summoned Blackall into his presence.

Blackall appeared, led in by two of the masters. He heard all that had to be said against him, and a full account of his barbarous treatment of Bouldon and Gregson, and the flogging which followed.

"I do not excuse Buttar, nor do I poor Bracebridge, for their conduct on that occasion. It was their duty to come and complain to me, and not to take the law into their own hands; but I am fully willing to believe that they acted under mistaken notions. However, I do not wish at present to say anything more against them; but there stands one whose whole conduct I so severely condemn, that I can allow him no longer to be an inmate of this school. To-morrow morning I shall publicly expel him. Retire till then to your respective rooms."

Although on ordinary occasions the Doctor had a great flow of language, he was very brief when any serious matter was under discussion, as if he was afraid to trust his feelings in words. No one in the school had an opportunity of again speaking to Blackall. He was supposed to have passed the night in the solitary room, as it was called. The next morning, after breakfast, he was brought into the school-room between two of the masters, and there in due form publicly expelled the school.

"Sir," said the Doctor, "from the numerous charges brought against you, and which you do not attempt to disprove, you will, if you do not alter your conduct, be a disgrace to any community in which you may be found. You have been constantly guilty of drunkenness and tyranny, blasphemy and swearing, idleness, and utter negligence of all religious and moral principle. I deeply regret that I was not sooner informed of your conduct; and I humbly acknowledge that I am much to blame in not having more minutely inquired into the character of every boy under my charge. I trust that you are an exception to the general rule, and that there are no others like you. Lead the unhappy lad away."

Soon after this a post-chaise came to the door; Blackall with one of the masters was seen to get into it, and from that day forward no one ever heard anything positively about him. His conduct was undoubtedly worse than that of any of his companions. The way he had been punished utterly put a stop to anything like fagging, and even brought bullying into very great discredit.

I have not mentioned Ernest Bracebridge since he had been wounded in so cowardly and treacherous a way by Blackall. The reports which flew about the school proved to have been somewhat exaggerated. The surgeon very naturally ordered that he should be kept quiet, but he had not said that there was any danger. He speedily stopped the bleeding, though, at the same time, he thought it safest to sit up with him, to watch that the wound did not break out afresh and allow him to bleed to death. In a few days even the slightest danger which might have existed was over; and in the course of a week he was able once more to resume his place in school. The Doctor had a good deal of conversation with him with respect to his conduct towards Blackall; and though he acknowledged that there were many extenuating circumstances, still, he pointed out, that he, as master of the school, would not allow the law to be taken out of his hands and exercised by another, however great the provocation.

"The same reasoning, remember, Bracebridge, holds good in society," he observed. "Private individuals must never take upon themselves the execution of the laws while a duly elected authority exists. Happily, in England, a man need only bring his complaint before a magistrate, and he is nearly certain to obtain ample justice. Remember that, my dear boy, whenever you are tempted to take the law into your own hands. If you yield to passion, or to your feelings, you will be acting against the laws both of God and man; and do not suppose that it is a light thing to do that."

Ernest thanked the Doctor for his advice, and promised to remember it. Only a couple of weeks remained now before the holidays were to begin-- those jolly Christmas holidays which, to boys living in the country, generally afford so much amusement.

The conversation Ernest had had with the Doctor made him feel more inclined to confide in him than he had ever done, and he resolved to open his heart to him about Ellis, who, in spite of his excellent conduct, and his quiet amiable manners, was as much as ever mistrusted by the boys in general. Barber, especially, turned up his nose at him, and never failed, when talking with his own particular chums, to throw out hints that, when Blackall was expelled, it was a pity the Doctor did not clear the school of Ellis, and other canting hypocrites like him. More than once these ungenerous remarks had been repeated to Ernest. He talked the matter over with Buttar, who agreed that they ought not to be allowed to go on unnoticed.

"If Ellis has done anything really disgraceful, he should explain his conduct to us, who have so long supported him through thick and thin," observed Buttar. "For my part, I believe that he ever was what he now is, a highly honourable good fellow; and if so, he ought to be defended, and his character placed in a proper light before the whole school."

"I have been long thinking the same," said Ernest. "I would do anything to serve him; and the life he is now leading is enough to ruin him in health and mind. He looks thin and careworn--like an old man already."

That very evening Ernest went to the Doctor, and very briefly told him all about Ellis; how fast he was improving, and how happy he had become, till Barber came to the school and spread reports against his fair fame.

The Doctor asked Ernest what the reports were. Ernest told him.

"Poor fellow! how very unfortunate," he remarked. "When he came here, his father sent me a letter from his former master, saying that he had been accused of stealing some money from another boy; but that, though the evidence against him was very strong, and apparently conclusive, he fully believed him guiltless of the offence. His father, who came to me on purpose, assured me that his son was altogether incapable of committing the crime of which he was accused; at the same time, that he thought it right to mention the circumstance to me, to account for his low-spirited and retiring manner. I appreciated the father's motive, and accepted the charge of his son, not supposing that any boy from the lad's former school would come here to accuse him. I have watched him narrowly, and I feel sure, from what I have seen of him, that he is, at all events, now a most unlikely person to commit the crime of which he is accused."

"I am very glad indeed, sir, to hear you say this," replied Ernest. "I would myself stake much on Ellis's honour; but how are the other boys to be convinced of this, when one who professes to be a witness is among them, and constantly repeats the tale?"

"I must think about it," observed the Doctor. "I may show my disbelief of the truth of the accusations brought against him by honouring him on every fitting opportunity; but unless he can disprove the tales uttered against him, I fear the less generous boys will continue to believe him guilty. However, I have said I will consider the subject. And now, Bracebridge, believe me, I thank you for having introduced the matter to my notice."

After this conversation, Ernest became much happier about Ellis. For the Doctor, also, a much warmer regard and respect arose in his heart than he had ever before felt. He had from the first looked upon him as a kind, sensible, and just man; but he did not suppose that there was any sympathy between him and his pupils. He knew that they came to school to be taught, and that it was his duty to teach them; but he was not aware of the deep interest which he took in their eternal as well as in their temporal welfare; how he employed his best thoughts and energies for that purpose; how much toil and pains he had taken to bring the school into its present condition; and how much it grieved him to find that, with all the pains he had taken, there was so much to correct and arrange. The Doctor, however, knew the world, and that in no human institutions can perfection be attained--nor can it be expected that they should be without faults; but he knew also that by care and attention those faults may be decreased, if not altogether got rid of, and he did not despair.

Ernest, as I was saying, had never before this thoroughly understood the Doctor. Now he did, and he found him a kind, sympathising, affectionate friend. Indeed, in my opinion, unless a man is this to his pupils, he is not fit to be a schoolmaster. Neither can a parent, unless he is his children's friend, expect to command their love and obedience.

Ernest now discovered the Doctor to be very like his own father in many respects, and therefore placed unbounded confidence in him. He gladly opened his own heart to him, and with the frankness of a warm-hearted boy, told him all his thoughts, and hopes, and wishes.

The Doctor had always liked Ernest, and felt great satisfaction at watching his rapid progress; but now he discovered qualities and talents which he had not before surmised, and from that time he placed the most perfect confidence in him, and the interest Ernest excited was as great as if he had been his own son.

At the end of the year prizes were given, and, in spite of his accident, Ernest carried off several. One of the performances which invariably created the greatest interest was the speech-making. The speech given to Ernest's class was that part of Julius Caesar where Cassius endeavours to persuade Brutus to join the conspiracy against Caesar. Buttar also spoke very well, and took the part of Brutus. All the neighbourhood were collected on the occasion, and a sort of stage was erected at one end of the play-room, which was ornamented with boughs of holly and other evergreens, and flags and coloured lamps.

Altogether, it was a very pretty spectacle. Instead of painted scenes, a bower of evergreens and flags was erected on the stage, in which the boys performed their parts.

Some of the bigger boys gained a good deal of applause, for the Doctor taught his pupils not only Greek and Latin, but what he looked on as of not less consequence--to write and speak their own language correctly and fluently.

Many who could scarcely express themselves so as to be clearly understood when they came to the school, had by the time they reached the upper classes become quite eloquent, and were able to write their themes with correctness and precision. Not much was expected from the younger boys, but when Ernest began to speak, the attention of all the guests was arrested: not a whisper was heard; and when he concluded, a loud and continued applause burst forth, and even his school-fellows agreed that he had surpassed himself. Buttar also gained a fair share of the applause bestowed on his friend, and he was not jealous that he did not gain more. No one listened more attentively than did Ellis, for he had declined to speak, though urged by Ernest to do so, and tears rushed unbidden into his eyes at the success which Bracebridge had obtained.

"I tell you, you fellows, that there is not a fellow like him!" exclaimed Tom Bouldon, clapping his hands vehemently. "He is as good, and brave, and clever as any fellow in the world. I always thought so, and now I am certain of it, and don't mind saying so."

Happily these remarks did not reach Ernest's ears. Gratifying as they must have been, they would have proved somewhat dangerous, even to a mind so well balanced as his was. He knew that he had achieved a success, but he was well aware that, after all, it was not a very great one, and that he had many more far far greater to achieve before the victory would be won.

I must not forget one of the amusements which generally terminated the winter half of the year. It was a grand race on stilts. There was a wide extent of flat meadow land in the neighbourhood, intersected with narrow ditches full of water. This was the ground selected for the sport. It was something like the Landes in the south of France. Monsieur Malin had introduced the amusement.

Boys when they first came to the school, who had not been accustomed to walk on stilts, were surprised at the height of those used, and the rapidity with which the older fellows walked along on them. Many of them were ten feet high. The resting-place for the feet was a piece of wood flat on the upper surface, with a strap to it which could be fastened round the feet or not. The upper ends of the poles were held by the hands, with the shoulders pressing against them. By this mode a boy could leap off his stilts without risk. Some are used which do not reach above the knee, round which the end is secured by a strap, but a fall with these may prove a very serious matter, and the Doctor would not allow them to be used.

It was good fun on stilt day to see the greater part of the school mounted up high above the ground, and striding away at a rapid rate over the fields; to hear the shouts and shrieks of laughter, especially if any unfortunate wight put the end of his stilt into a ditch deeper than he expected, and, unable to draw it out again, dropped on his nose. Monsieur Malin generally led the party, and no one cheered and laughed more than he did. This year it was arranged that a steeple-chase should take place; so it was called; but in reality it was not a steeple which formed the goal, but a low object--a white gate, which could only be seen from an elevation; therefore the boys with the highest stilts were the best able to keep it in sight.

Fancy upwards of eighty boys collected on a fine clear frosty afternoon, mounted up five or six feet off the ground, some even more, stalking away as fast as they could go over the fields, shouting, and laughing, and hallooing to each other.

As usual, Ernest was one of the most active. He and Buttar took the lead, but they were closely followed by Tom Bouldon, who was very great upon stilts. The exercise suited his temperament. He had been at the school ever since Monsieur Malin introduced them, and so he was well-practised in their use. He thus had an advantage Ernest did not possess. He went steadily on across hedges and ditches, and across ploughed fields, and moist meadows and marshes, till he overtook Buttar, and then he came up with Ernest, who was beginning to fag, and then he went ahead, and finally got in at the winning-post half a field's length before anybody else.

Two days after that the school broke up, and the boys, in high spirits at the anticipation of the amusements they were to enjoy, started off in all directions to their respective homes. _

Read next: Chapter 12. The Christmas Holidays. Skating And Other Winter Amusements

Read previous: Chapter 10. The Bully's Punishment

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