Part 6

One way and another, the sale realized eight shillings and fourpence, chiefly owing to the generosity of Rice, who gave the absurd sum of two shillings for the guinea-pigs, which were not even the chrysanthemum variety of pig, with wild and tousled hair, but just sleek, ordinary pigs, and known to be far past their prime. One, in fact, had a bald head.

The Hutchings Testimonial now stood at four pounds fourteen shillings and sevenpence; and thanks to a windfall in the shape of five shillings from Cornwallis, who had a birthday and got a pound for it, we were now practically up to a fiver. In fact, I myself flung in the fivepence. But we were far from satisfied, for, as Mitchell with his mathematical mind pointed out, five pounds spread over one hundred and thirty-two boys amounts to the rather contemptible smallness of ninepence and one-eleventh a boy. We raised the question of inviting the masters to come in, from Dr. Dunston downwards, and some fondly thought that Dunston would very likely give another five pounds to double ours; but Barrington said he had reason to fear this would not happen, because, from rumours dropped between Brown and Fortescue, which he had accidentally overheard while working in Fortescue's study, he believed that a good many parents were putting the moratorium in force on the Doctor; and Fortescue seemed to think that it was quite within human possibility that the Doctor might put the moratorium in force on him and Brown, with very grave results to their financial position. But Brown said the moratorium was over long ago, and could not be revived against them.

Then two things of considerable importance happened on the subject of the Hutchings Testimonial. Firstly, we heard that Hutchings might come to Merivale for a week or so before returning to his regiment; and, secondly, Mitchell made a very interesting offer concerning the five pounds now deposited with him. He said, very truly, that money breeds money in skilled hands, and that no financier worthy of the name ever lets his talent lie hid in a napkin, but far from it. He said to the committee:

"It's like this. We are now a fortnight from the holidays, and the holidays will be five weeks long. Five and two are seven, therefore it follows that for seven weeks this five pounds is doing nothing whatever. This would be untrue to the science of political economy and banking. Therefore I propose that I send the five pounds to my father and ask him to invest it in his business. My father, John Septimus Mitchell, Esquire, is a member of the Stock Exchange of London, and would, no doubt, very easily turn our five pounds into six, or even seven, in the course of seven weeks. This would greatly increase the power of the committee and the extent of the testimonial for Hutchings. And then, at the beginning of next term, we shall be able to buy and present the testimonial in person to Hutchings."

Well, knowing Mitchell, it was rather a delicate question in a way; but what he said was sound finance, as Barrington admitted, and Barrington himself felt thoroughly inclined to trust Mitchell. We went into a sort of private committee, after Mitchell had gone, and though I and Thwaites voted against, the majority was in favour of agreeing to the suggestion of Mitchell. Therefore it was done.

Then Mitchell sent the five pounds to his father, and gave us the cheering news that his father had received it and agreed to invest it at interest; and Mitchell handed Barrington a document from his father to show all was being rightly managed on the Stock Exchange about it. And Barrington kept the document carefully, as it was legal, and had a penny stamp on it.

We next returned to the question of the testimonial itself, and still could not agree about it, though we were now able to argue on the basis of seven pounds instead of five. We had agreed about a sword, but unfortunately found, on inquiries, that a sword worthy to be called a presentation sword would cost about fifty pounds, and ought to have rubies and emeralds in the handle, which was, of course, out of the question. Many things were suggested, but none, somehow, met the case, and we fairly kicked ourselves to think that a committee like us were such a lot of fatheads. And, of course, dozens of the chaps asked us about it, and were rather surprised we couldn't think of the right thing. Proposals were showered in, but all to no purpose, and the end of the term actually arrived without anything being settled. It was then agreed that we should all think hard about the form of the testimonial during the holidays, and Barrington hoped that events at the Front might develop and help us to hit on a happy idea. And we all hoped so, too. As for Mitchell, he said that he thought very likely Hutchings would rather have the money than anything else; but that was, of course, what Mitchell himself would rather have had, though far below the mind of a patriotic man like Hutchings. And Thwaites said rather scornfully to Mitchell that no doubt he would rather have money than an heirloom to hand down to the future generations; and Mitchell said that he undoubtedly would, because money was out and away the best possible sort of heirloom, and everybody knew it at heart, even though they might pretend different.

Then the holidays took place, and the prizes were decidedly skimpy, which was a disappointment to those who got them and a comfort to those who didn't. Nothing of any consequence occurred to me during the holidays, and I had no idea for Hutchings worth mentioning; and when we all returned, we found the committee as a whole were in the same position as before. There were many suggestions made, certainly, but none that pleased the entire committee. Then a dreadful thing upset the situation, and for three days the darkness of returning to school was made darker still by a sensational rumour. Mitchell did not turn up on the appointed afternoon, and it was whispered that he wasn't coming back at all! Presently the whisper grew into a regular roar, so to speak, and Brown announced the tremendous news that Mitchell had left altogether, and might be going straight into his father's business of being a stockbroker on the Stock Exchange, London.

To add to this, Hutchings was now staying at Merivale with the Doctor for a few days before going back to the War, and he had already heard about the testimonial, and was undoubtedly in a great state of excitement about it. His wounds had taken an unexpectedly long time to heal, but he was now quite ready for renewed activity at the Front, and was, in fact, going back on the following Friday with other healed, heroic men.

Our position had now become extremely grave, and we held a committee meeting instantly, and Thwaites and I were in the position of the late Lord Roberts when he clamoured for an army and couldn't get one, because we had strongly advised that Mitchell should not be allowed to send the money to his father; but the committee had outvoted us. I was dignified myself, and did not remind the committee of my views; but Thwaites did, and there was a good deal of bitterness in the remarks of the committee, till Barrington reminded us of the legal document which we had preserved with such care. He said that he was not in the least alarmed, and felt sure that, whatever Mitchell might be, the father of Mitchell was a man of honour, and would not risk his position on the Stock Exchange of London for a paltry seven pounds.

So we wrote to the address on the legal document, stating the case and saying politely, but firmly, that we expected the seven pounds by return of post. We added that we trusted Mitchell's father implicitly, and that as the matter was very urgent, owing to Mr. Hutchings being just off again to the Front, we hoped that he would be so good as to give it his personal attention the moment he received our letter. This we all signed, to show how many people were interested and that it was a serious affair.

For three very trying days we heard nothing, and the school was in a fair uproar, and the committee got itself very much disliked. Then, when we had decided to put the matter into the hands of Dr. Dunston, Mitchell himself wrote to me and sent a cheque signed by his father. But it was not for seven pounds, I regret to say. In fact, it was not even for six. His wretched father had merely sent us back our five pounds with sevenpence added! Mitchell explained that we had received four per cent. for our money, and that he was sorry nothing better could be done for the moment, owing to the Stock Exchange being very much upset by the War. And he asked us for a stamped receipt for the money, which we sent him in very satirical language, and said that no doubt his father had made the two pounds himself. And we promised faithfully that when we grew up and had dealings on the Stock Exchange of London, they wouldn't be with Mitchell and his father. Barrington, by the way, wouldn't sign this piece of satire, which was invented by Tracey. All the same, we sent it, but Mitchell never answered it, and soon afterwards he turned up again, having merely been ill and not going to leave at all. Hutchings was going on the following Friday and something had to be done at once. The committee, which was now fairly sick of the sight of one another, met again--for the last time, I'm glad to say--and the question being acute, as Thwaites said, we proposed and seconded that a master, or two, should be invited to help us with ideas. Then I thought of something still better, and suggested that we should simply and straightforwardly go to Hutchings himself and ask him what he most wanted in the nature of an heirloom that could be got for five pounds and sevenpence; and everybody gladly seconded this idea, though, of course, it was not so impressive as making a presentation with a few dignified words and the whole school present, as we had meant to do.

However, we went to Hutchings, and he was much pleased, and said it was ripping of us all, and promised, the morning before he went, to try and get us a half-holiday as a memory of him. This was good, but still better was the great ease with which Hutchings decided what he wanted. He said:

"I'll tell you what I'll do. On my way through London to Dover I'll buy a pair of field-glasses, and I'll have inscribed somewhere on them--

'To LIEUTENANT T. HUTCHINGS, FROM MERIVALE SCHOOL.'"

We agreed gladly to this, and so did everybody, and several chaps, who had suggested this very thing and been turned down, reminded us afterwards.

At any rate, Hutchings got them, and wrote to Barrington, from a direction he couldn't name, to say he'd got them, inscribed and all, and that they were splendid glasses, and that we might picture him often using them on the field, to mark the enemy's position or sweep the sky for aeroplanes; which was very agreeable to us to hear, and showed all our trouble was by no means in vain. And, in return, we wrote to Hutchings and told him we were very pleased to know about the glasses, and were glad to inform him that we had got the half-holiday, and that though it unfortunately poured without ceasing all the time, it was quite successful in every other way.

THE FIGHT

My name is Rice, and there was only one thing I hated about the War, and even that I had to stop hating, because of England. My first feeling was the War had come too soon, and that if it had only been four years later, I should have been there. But, saying this to Tracey, he pointed out that, from England's point of view, it was lucky the War had come when it did, because every year was making the Germans stronger, while we went gaily down the hill reducing our Navy and our Army too. So it was a jolly good thing the Great War hadn't waited till I went into the Army. In fact, in four years, by all accounts, there mightn't have been any army to go into.

"No doubt you'd have been a host in yourself, Rice," said Tracey in his comical way, meaning a joke, which I easily saw; "but, all the same, as we had to fight Germany, the sooner we did it the better."

So I gave up hating the sad fact of not being there, though it was extra rough on me, because many people seemed to think it was going to be the last war on earth; and if that was so, my occupation was gone, and I might just as well not have been born, except for the simple and rather tame pleasure of being alive. But what's the good of that, if you're not going to do anything worth mentioning from the cradle to the grave, as the saying is?

As far as mere fighting went, I did all I could at Merivale, and, after seven regular fights, got to be cock of the Lower School. And in ordinary times I should have been cock of the whole school; but, curiously enough, there was one chap of very unusual fighting ability at Merivale when I was there, and he was rightly regarded as cock of the school in the science of fighting.

It happened, also, that he and I were tremendous chums--such chums as are seldom seen--for we had similar ideas on all subjects and never differed even on the subject of the boxing art. In fact we only differed because I was going into the Navy and Sutherland minor was going into the Law. He had no taste for soldiering, like his brother, Sutherland major; though great genius for boxing, in which he took after his father, and as his father was in the law and wanted him to go into it, he resolved to obey.

But to me the law seemed a feeble profession, and I often tried to dissuade him from it.

Sutherland minor was sixteen and a half and tall; I was fifteen, and three inches shorter. He had better biceps than me and a longer reach, and he said I had a better punch than him, but less science.

After my third fight, he always let me second him in his fights; but he only had two before this particularly interesting fight I am going to mention; and one was against Blades, which he won after six rounds by excellent science and far superior footwork to Blades; and the other was against a chap called Pengelly, who only came for one term and gave himself frightful airs because he was a Cornishman. But I shouldn't think Cornwall had much use for him.

One day Sutherland said that the Cornish might be very good at catching pilchards and digging up tin, but they didn't seem much good at enlisting in Kitchener's Army. And Pengelly said there was a reason for that, though he refused to tell us what the reason was. Then he got into a fearful bate, and, little knowing the truth about Sutherland, challenged him to fight; which, of course Sutherland instantly agreed to. Pengelly was very big and strong, and if he had been able to hit Sutherland as often as he wanted to, the fight might have been interesting, but, having no science whatever, he was useless against Sutherland. By sheer strength he stuck to it for eight rounds, during which time he got a fair doing and Sutherland was hardly marked; but then, though by no means all in, Pengelly realized that he wasn't going to get a knuckle on Sutherland and so he gave up.

He wasn't a bad chap really, though rather foolish about Cornwall, and he even said to me deliberately that a Cornishman was as good as an Irishman, which showed, if anything, that he was weak in his head. And after his fight with Sutherland, we asked him again what the reason was that Cornwall was so slack at enlisting, and he said that the truth was that half of all Cornish chaps go into the Navy, which, owing to Cornwall being almost surrounded by sea, they prefer. But whether that's true, or only a piffling excuse, I don't know.

Anyway, when it came to counting up the most famous men Cornwall ever produced, he could only mention Sir Humphry Davy, who invented the safety-lamp for miners, which was undoubtedly all right in its way, and "Q," who wrote _Dead Man's Rock_, and was knighted for doing so; and nobody ever deserved it more. But that was all, whereas, when it came to Ireland, of course, I could count up thousands of the greatest heroes in creation, including Mr. Redmond, who has just got Home Rule for us after fearful obstacles.

But I never fought Pengelly; there wasn't time. For he only had one term at Merivale, and then, I believe, went to Canada suddenly, to an uncle there.

After that began the curious affair between me and Sutherland. But as it was remarkable in every way and will never be forgotten by our families, I may mention them.

In the first place, Sutherland's mother was a chronical invalid. I said it must be very difficult to love a person who lived in bed and could never be any use out of doors, or ride to hounds, or anything; and he said that it made no difference and that he was accustomed to it, because his mother had always been an utter crock ever since he knew her, and even at her best, when she was feeling unusually fit, she only changed her bed for a sofa in his father's study. Apparently she was just as keen about him as my mother was about me, and though she didn't much care to hear about his fights, she tried to understand the beauty of them like his father did. But naturally this father was more to Sutherland than the mother could be; because his father had been amateur middle-weight champion of England in his time, and held the cup for three years, and had been runner-up twice also. He was, therefore, a very great boxer and fighter, and Sutherland had been taught by his father, which accounted for his genius at it and his style, which was very finished. He would undoubtedly have been a "pro" if he had been in another walk of life; but as it was, he fully intended to do as well as his father had done in the amateur boxing world, though, as he was growing very rapidly and was also a great eater, it looked as if he would end by being a heavy-weight, which his father never was; though, as Sutherland told me, his father had beaten a few good heavy-weights in his time, though he never touched twelve stone in his boxing days.

Sutherland major, by the way, had just left Merivale when the War broke out, and he instantly went into the O.T.C.'s and soon became a second lieutenant and went to France.

This father of Sutherland was a lawyer, and Sutherland regretted to say that the War had done him harm as, owing to it apparently, people were not going to law nearly so much as usual. Still he thought, after the War, he might find a great improvement. He was a lawyer of the sort called a barrister, and wore a wig and gown and pleaded for criminals before the judges and juries on the Western Circuit, often getting them off when it looked jolly bad for them--so Sutherland said.

But my father was quite different, being a gentleman at large, and funnily enough, owing to the War, he made the first money he had ever made in his life, for he had a great knowledge of horses, and the War Office, hearing of this, let him go out and choose and buy horses for it, which he willingly did, and for his trouble he got the enormous sum of a guinea a day!

My mother sent me a sovereign of my father's earnings and told me to keep it and bore a hole in it and put it on my watch-chain, and be proud of it; but this I did not do, because a sovereign is a sovereign, and I simply couldn't see a good sovereign wasting its time, so to speak, on my watch-chain.

Then one day, walking as usual with Sutherland on the way to a footer match in which we were both playing, both being in the first "soccer" team, him at right back and me at right half, we got talking about a fight I rather hoped to have with Briggs. And Sutherland was trying to think of a _casus belli_ which, in English, means a reason for the fight. But, knowing Briggs, he said no _casus belli_ would ever arise; and I said in that case, if Briggs were willing, we might fight for a purse, if anybody would subscribe one.

And then Sutherland reminded me that I should become a "pro," and Briggs also, if that were done.

He said:

"Briggs wouldn't fight just for the sake of fighting, and as you and he are very good friends, and there's no 'needle' in it, it looks difficult."

Then we talked, and then he happened to say--about fighting in general and weights and so on:

"You might just as well think of licking him"--speaking of Hutchings, who had gone to the Front--"as you might of licking me."

"Of course," I said; "it would be absurd."

That was the whole conversation, and I forgot it while the match was on, and, in fact, it didn't come back to me till I went to bed that night; and then it fairly kept me awake, and I was fearfully sorry I'd said it would be absurd for me to think of licking Sutherland. In fact I got sorrier and sorrier, and then I wondered why the dickens Sutherland thought it was such a mad idea my licking him; and before I went to sleep I felt, in a way, rather sick with Sutherland for having such a poor opinion of me.

In the morning the feeling was still there, and he noticed I was a bit off and asked me if I was all right, and I said I was.

But it weighed fearfully, and I fairly got to hate myself in about two days for having said the idea of my licking Sutherland was absurd. In fact, the more I thought about it, the less absurd it seemed. I knew he was heavier and had a longer reach and was older and more scientific; but he himself had said that I had a fine punch; and if you've got that, you never know what may happen; and many an unlikely thing has come off in the ring owing to unexpected smacks landing at the right moment in the right place.

After a good deal of hard thinking and going down about four in my form, which landed me at the bottom, I felt I must speak to Sutherland, or I should burst.

So when he asked me, for the thousandth time, what was the matter and if anybody had scored off me, or anything, I said:

"Look here, Sutherland, you remember that while going to the footer match last week, you said I might just as well think of licking you as of licking Hutchings?"

And he said:

"Yes, I remember."

And I said:

"I told you it was absurd, didn't I?"

"You did--naturally," answered Sutherland.

"Well," I said, "I was wrong--it wasn't in the least natural for me to say that, and there's nothing absurd about it. It's been on my mind ever since. And now I see it wasn't absurd."

"What wasn't absurd?" asked Sutherland. "The idea of your licking Hutchings, or the idea of your licking me?"

"The idea of my licking you," I said firmly.

For a moment Sutherland was quite silent.

"D'you really think so?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "After considering it quietly--in bed and in chapel and at many other times--I can't see anything absurd about it."

"In fact, Rice, you think you might have a chance against me?" suggested Sutherland.

"I don't say that it would be much of a chance," I told him. "Probably you'd do me, because you're a lot cleverer and more scientific; but when I said 'absurd,' I went too far."

Sutherland considered.

"You're quite right," he admitted. "You might get over a lucky one. It's very unlikely, but you might. Therefore there would be nothing absurd about our fighting, and I oughtn't to have suggested there was. Somehow I never regarded us as in the same street. But, of course, we may be."

"We're not," I said. "As for boxing on points we're not. But fighting is different and--there you are."

He nodded.

"If you feel like that," he said, "of course----"

"I never did feel like that; in fact I never thought of it before," I told Sutherland; "but now----"

He didn't say anything, so I went on:

"It's a matter of honour in a way," I said.

"From your point of view it is, no doubt," he answered.

"Isn't it from yours?" I asked him.